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willows-peak · 4 months

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*･ﾟ✧ JJK Character's Fav Positions

tags: multi character x reader, gn! reader, fluff, acute descriptions of cuddling, sfw and nsfw below the cut, the students aren't included in the nsfw portion dw

word count: expected 2.2k

a/n: im struggling with a geto wip so have this for tonight :3c i wonder if u can tell whos my fav to write

⋆｡˚ ♡ spooning: reserved for the clingiest of people, those who wanna feel your warmth no matter what, snuggled tight holding your back to their chest under a blanket and falling asleep to the slow breaths you make in your slumber

nobara: she's a girl with a very busy life, socially and academically, so when she finally gets to come home and relax into you, her back being embraced by you and held snugly to your chest as she sighs in content, she's as happy as can be. especially after a nice warm shower to wash the day's work away, curling up in bed in her jammies and taking a well deserved nap is all she needs. she gets very irritable if (god forbid) she cant be with you for a while

yuuta: he's a very sweet boy, even when sleeping. if u two end up cuddling, you'll somehow always end up being spooned, no matter how you two fell asleep. yuuta claims he has no idea how this happens, but youre starting to doubt him when you fell asleep at the foot of the bed and woke up with a snoring yuuta behind you. though, you dont have it in you to push him away, considering the way he grumbles and reaches out for you until youre back in his arms

getou: while he wasn't the one to initiate being the little spoon, that seems to be the role you gave him when you first started sleeping in the same bed. even while he was relaxed, his back muscles seemed to entrance you enough to want to stare at them while he slept. he wasn't surprised or offended at your reasoning of course, quite the opposite. you were fueling his already huge ego so how could he deny you? now, he'll rest with the feeling of your deft fingers combing through his hair, while your other hand was running across the bumps and crevices of his back.

⋆｡˚ ♡ hugging: for the cuddling enjoyer who also wants to smoosh your face with their chest. legs tangled together, the comforting scent of your shampoo in their nose and their hand gently cupping the back of your head

gojo: speaking of the clingiest man alive. he treats you like a stuffie half the time while you two sleep, hugging you tight to his chest and having your face buried in the crook of his neck while he snoozes away. much like yuuji, the pressure of you against his body helps relax him, but unfortunately for you, that means this 6'3 man squeezing you as tight as possible and stacking on blankets on top of your combined bodies. let's hope you two live somewhere cold

inumaki: he always slept in fetal position before you two started dating, so this was just naturally how you two began cuddling. inumaki either slept at 8 pm sharp or he'd still be awake when you got up in the morning, so who was cuddling who was never consistent. sometimes, inumaki slept with his arm thrown across your hip and his face squished against your side, and others he'd hook his arm around the small of your back and hold you while you slept

⋆｡˚ ♡ head on lap: sometimes you don't wanna go all out with cuddling your partner, and for those occasions look no further than the thigh pillow ™ for when you or your partner are too tired to move from the couch to the bed

maki: few words are ever spoken when you two do this. you could be catching up on your schoolwork, or talking with maki, or watching the tv, but often times you'll simply stop and roll over to lay on her lap, neither of you questioning or even batting an eye to it anymore. even when you first did it, there was only a moment of confusion in maki's face before she shrugged and continued talking to you

choso: when you asked him how he liked to cuddle one day, he shrugged his shoulders and answered with "whatever makes you happy." and while he meant it, you couldnt deny the pattern you noticed when you were lounging in bed, or sitting down, where choso would inevitably end up cozied between your thighs, his head resting on your tummy with his hand around your back. pro tip, he makes happy hums if you put your hand on his head

⋆｡˚ ♡ head on chest: who needs blankets when you have a whole other person? the classic and well loved position that lets them hold u as close as they can, arm snagging around your waist and holding you tight as you drift into dream land

megumi: you may have thought this meant youre laying on his chest. nope. it took a while for him to open up with what he wanted with you, physically, but it very quickly turned into routine how he'd wordlessly crawl into your arms and flop down against your chest, grumbling incoherently when you asked him what was the matter. you'd sigh and resume whatever you were doing, combing through his messy hair until the soft sound of snores filled the room minutes later.

nanami: this man does not play around about two things, children and his sleep. he's very particular with how he rests, as in you *will* be with him while he sleeps, and you *will* be placed on his chest, held tight as he snored away. youre his wonderful break from monotony, a shining ray of sunshine in his cold and unwelcoming world, so forgive him for being clingy while he rests. though, this does come with the downside of him becoming restless if you're ever away. dont worry! he has a pillow with your scent sprayed onto it for this very occasion, just in case

toji: he wasnt huge on cuddling at first, both not used to it and finding it inconvenient to deal with if he needed to do anything at night. he didnt sleep well before you, and even if that hasnt changed, you snuggling up to him like a huge teddy bear at least gave him something to focus on in those sleepless fits he often has. on the rare occasion he sleeps before you awaken, youre extra careful to press a kiss to his chest as he silently rested underneath you

⋆｡˚ ♡ in their lap: cuddling doesn't always have to mean sleeping, of course. sometimes its just a really really long hug with your partner. for times like this, curling up in someone's lap while you laze your time away sounds like a paradise

yuuji: at first, scooting you into his lap was just an easy way to keep you close while he had nothing else to do, arm secured around your waist while you either scrolled through your phone or talked to him about your day, the mundane things he loved about you. but, as he soon found, you on his lap added the extra bonus of pressure! a sturdy weight and warmth on his body, allowing him to relax and melt into you in those moments of silence shared between you two.

sukuna: lets just say you're lucky he's touchy at all with you. he'll tolerate surprise hugs or pecks on his shoulder, but the only physical touch he seems to ever enjoy is when you're slotted in his lap, free to touch and poke at whenever he pleases. you'd whine if he pinched your cheek, squawk if he pressed his nails into the meat of your thighs, glare at him if he groped your ass. all those lovely reactions are a fair trade for you scooting yourself into his lap and using his chest as a pillow, he deems

NSFW UNDER CUT!!! MDNI

⋆｡˚ ♡ cowgirl: save a horse, ride a cowboy seeing you take control is unbearably sexy. pivoting your hips up and down on their dick while your hands grip at their shoulders, or having their hands grab at your ass while you slowly grind down against them. either way theyre yours for the taking

ino: a loveable, yet irritating trait of your boyfriend, is that he struggled to fuck you again after a round. you couldnt blame him, with how fast and hard he pounded into you and how he'd always make sure to hit your sweet spots until you were spasming and cumming around his cock. but when you werent satisfied just yet, he spared no time lifting you up into his lap, eagerly offering his cock for you to use as you pleased. and really, how could you pass up an offer like that?

getou: why should he have to do the work when you look this good riding him? his eyes never leave yours while you're bouncing in his lap, the slap of your skin against his backing up your huffs and whines of pleasure, looking at him so pitifully when he backs his hips down out of you. "you want more? come on honey, work for it. thaaat's right, move your hips just like that f' me" he'd egg you on so sweetly, smiling at your pout while you spread your legs and angled your hips to take him deeper inside

⋆｡˚ ♡ doggy style: nasty mfs who live for seeing your ass jiggle with every thrust or slap they give you. the way your tiny waist arches down and your chest is pressed flat against the sheets while they're pounding away at you is unbeatable to them

yuki: behind every woman with a big ass is an even bigger strap, and yuki is the prime example of that. she loves to fuck you in front of a mirror in this position too, cooing at you for being so good at taking her dick while fucking you with aimed precision, making you look at yourself while shes thrusting deep inside you. its enough to make you melt into the sheets and wail at the onslaught of pleasure going through your body, but dont worry, she still has so much more to give you

⋆｡˚ ♡ against the wall: can you say desperate? they love this position so much, sloppy makeouts that lead to pinning you against the nearest surface because they feel like they'll die if their lips leave yours for even a second

gojo: call him a showoff, because its true. in this position, he can show you just how small you are compared to him, size and strength wise. bouncing you up and down on his cock until your pretty head doesnt work anymore, seeing your eyes oggle his flexed arms and the space where he was fucking up into you. this paired with fucking you inside his office? his dick has never been harder. the thought of someone hearing how good youre getting fucked, coupled with your horrible attempt at muffling your cries and moans makes him so fucking turned on

shoko: shes a true switch, which means its a toss up for whos gonna be on the wall in this position. it all depends on her mood, and who shes had to deal with today. if it was a slow day at work, she'll happily make out with you and grind her knee into your crotch against the door of your apartment for as long as she pleases. though, if her day was more hectic, shes not so subtly grinding herself onto your lap and pressing her fingers into your mouth, sighing woefully about how stressed she is until she expectedly pulls out her fingers, waiting for you to offer yourself to help her

⋆｡˚ ♡ 69: they love the competitive-ness of this position. being able to grab your hips and shove them down onto their flat tongue, getting harder when they can feel how much you're struggling to focus from their mouth. but when you grind down into their mouth while bobbing your head on their cock? hooh

toji: hes so mean when he has you like this.. ruthlessly bucking his hips up into your tight and wet throat, sloppily licking and sucking at you and twitching at the feeling of you gagging when he hits the back of your throat. you can barely move your head, your brain getting fucked out by toji's tongue and lips expertly taking you apart piece by piece. you never lasted long when he had you like this either, much to his delight. eagerly lapping up your cum while you moaned and hopelessly squirmed in his grip felt better than any orgasm hes ever gotten, though your throat comes at a very close second

nanami: nanami can at times forget this position is for the both of you, with how into it he can get. hes good about it at first, groaning into you from the way your tongue licks and swirls around his thick cock. but the more he tastes you, the more ravenous he gets with his sucks against you, licking up any stray wetness that threatens to fall down your thighs as the pace of your sucking slows and breaks. you can try to lift your hips away from his tongue, but good luck with that. the grip he keeps on your thighs is near impossible to break, even if your an orgasm or two deep into the session

⋆｡˚ ♡ mating press: whispers of them others name falling right into their lips as their hips rock into you, thighs pressed tightly against your chests and your legs shaking on top of their shoulders. the closeness of this position never fails to rile them up, allowing them to see every little face you make, and hear all those noises they fuck out of you

sukuna: youre helpless underneath him, and thats the way he likes it. you can barely move around when his large, muscular frame is pinning you plush against the sheets of your bed, arms forced to clumsily hold onto his shoulders as he fucks you so deep, so harshly that you choke on your own breath from the power behind his thrusts. "sssuku-na, please, too mm-! is' toomuch, oh" your pleads fall on deaf ears, his thrusts never faltering nor easing up with their intensity.

choso: he honestly thinks he'll die if he isnt pressed up against you while hes fucking you. it all feels so intimate when hes got you with your legs bound to your torso from his chest, his thighs holding your body steady while hes all up in your guts. he feels so wonderfully deep inside you like this, hardly able to get out a full sentence from the way you squeeze and milk his long cock, crashing his lips into yours as tears start to well up in his eyes from how good it all feels

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soullessdianthus · 9 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 | 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐱 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠)

Summary: During the mission somewhere in Austria, König takes an interest in TF 141 medic. Little did he know, she's Lieutenants Riley's girlfriend.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

A/N: Possessive/Protective boyfriend Ghost? Yes, double and give to the next person. Also inserted Hank/Connor "lieutenant" reference, I just find it funny. Y/C ━ Your Codename (have fun, pick something babes) Poorly translated German ━ correct me if needed!

Warnings: nothing, reader is eastern european coded (we deserve more recognition as reader inserts ꃋᴖꃋ )

Word count: 1.8k

The tree line of the thick forest melted into the base of the rocky mountains. Your gaze traveled across its pointy shapes and up higher - there hadn’t been a single cloud on the sky that day, causing a slight heatwave.

You let your body slightly wag as the car passed over surface bumps on the earthen road. The dry lump grew in your throat as the dust hovered all over the convoy and all you could think of was a sip of cold, mineral water.

Soon, you reached the small town in Austria, secluded from the ring roads. The cars were parked near the surrounding forest at the entrance of the village. Lieutenant Riley's sight crossed with yours as he helped you get out of the truck.

He could be such a gentleman sometimes.

A handful of soldiers gathered near the vehicles - some of them wearing a KorTac patch on their shoulders, the other ones (from your unit) a Task Force 141 badge. But besides those sigils, none of them were wearing full battle gear.

There was no active fighting against the enemy at the moment. It was just a careful chase after the terrorists - following their footsteps, interviewing associates, gathering proof. Because at the end of the day, the military (or army related organization) cannot shed blood over a defamation.

But KorTac and TF 141? Quite an unusual partnership between the two groups, right?

━ Ghost, Y/C you’re goin’ with me ━ Captain Price announced, adjusting his hat as he closed the car’s doors behind him. ━ Gaz, you’ll stay here, is that clear?

Captain heard a firm ‘yes, sir’ from your teammate Kyle who was to stay at the parking spot. Meanwhile the KorTac colonel gave an order to his soldiers in German. “Such a tough language” you thought to yourself. Only two of his people went along the wood road with the rest of you.

The Colonel.

Exceptionally tall, Austrian man who served many years for his country. The one you found yourself in on the latest mission.

Each time you wanted to look at him while Colonel König was speaking, you had to chin up. And even though, a black hood with a red paint on it covered his whole face besides his cold, blue eyes. He was lowkey intimidating with his massive size, but just like your captain, the Austrian’s rough looks didn’t reflect his character. At least to you and your comrades he was quite nice.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same about his teammates.

You didn’t have to walk for long as the isolated, one floor house emerged behind a hill. By the quick peek at that building and the noises coming from the inside you knew, it felt like a warm home.

As you approached the building, you heard a child’s cry.

Price knocked at the front door and soon after a man with dark bags under his eyes opened them slightly. He was peeking through the crack.

━ Jakob Hausner? ━ The Captain asked with a playful smile under his mustache, his thumbs interlocked with the gear straps over his chest.

━ Ja, wie kann ich helfen? [ger.: Yes, how can I help?]

━ Can you ask him if he speaks english? ━ John looked over his shoulder towards König, asking for a favor.

━ Yes, I speak english ━ master of the house answered with a thick accent, before colonel could translate. ━ What do you want?

He wasn’t trusting at all, well, how could he? You were all strangers at his doorsteps, two of your partners wearing scary looking masks. But it all had a purpose - they were supposed to look… intimidating, yes?

A loud wailing made their ears hurt, it was that damn baby again. Jakob sighed loudly, his shoulder collapsing as he opened the doors a little bit more.

━ We just want to talk about the company you were working for. ━ Price continued talking.

━ About them again? ━ Mr. Hausner frowned his eyebrows and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Poor man was exhausted apparently. ━ Okay, okay, ja, come in.

The man let you all inside, however König told his soldiers to have a look outside the plot - to make sure it’s safe here and you’re not being watched. Poor Jakob wasn’t even fully aware (because of his state) that he let in a group of military people inside of his home.

As soon as you crossed the hallway into the dining room with a big, wooden table, you noticed a struggling toddler in a children’s chair. The girl was crying, her face red from the tantrum.

━ I’m sorry, it’s just my daughter, she… she doesn’t want to eat her–. Lina, bitte. [ger.: Lina, please.]

Being a parent. Must be tough, huh?

Not when you were forced to babysit your siblings or cousins since you were a teenager.

━ She’s not hungry. ━ You noticed the way the little girl pushed her plate away and how she tried to climb out of the seat. Christ, that man really had to be exhausted. ━ Can I?

You took a few slow and calm steps towards the sitting child - a warm smile painted over your face. Even your boyfriend Ghost was slightly… surprised? Seeing you drop the apathetic shell, then becoming more warm and gentle towards the little girl.

━ She’s our medic ━ your Captain explained to the worried father ━ let her take the kid and we’ll have a talk. In peace.

Mr. Hausner let you take care of his unsettled daughter, so they could have a conversation about his former employers. You took the girl out of her chair and placed her over your left hip, pushing it outward.

━ Come, Lina ━ you addressed the girl by her name, even though she probably couldn’t understand what you were saying ━ let’s leave the stinky men alone, ja?

You left the dining room and entered the seemingly endless garden behind the house. Since you took that girl in your hands she already began to calm down, perhaps a woman's touch was all she needed?

“Where was your mother? Was she at work working a long shift? Did something happen to her? Did the bad men–” your thoughts seemed to take a rather pessimistic route, so you had to quickly change it.

You didn’t know much German. Well, you didn’t know any at all.

Fuck.

But at that moment you were thanking the heavens that your father watched movies about Hans Kloss or war on a regular basis. You were happy that your father was taught some phrases and somewhere in your subconsciousness he passed them to you.

You sat on the wooden bench somewhere in the garden not far from the building. Then, you placed the child on your lap and began talking to her - mostly in your mother tongue. Then you added some words in German that you knew, like:

━ Schau, schmetterling! [ger.: Look, a butterfly!]

Soon you grew more comfortable around the girl named Lina, even though there was a language barrier. Without your knowledge, your legs began to bounce her, pretending she was riding a horse.

If anyone would point that out later, you would certainly deny it. You, getting soft for a child? No, no, no.

You were so occupied with entertaining her that you didn’t even notice a looming, black figure in the corner of your eye. Watching the scene from somewhere nearby.

König was standing just next to the doors, leaving against the white plaster on the outside walls. He listened to your attempts to speak German, finding it… adorable?

Never did he meet a woman in his profession so empathetic and gentle. Especially the one who managed to catch his attention. Let’s be honest, most of them were cold blood murderers and he was a colonel - he couldn’t let himself have such a luxury of having a family.

Until now.

His imagination began to play a nasty and stupid trick on him - just because he saw you speaking German with a kid. What if it was you to take care of his children? Were your hands usually this delicate? Would you care for him as much?

The tall soldier was intrigued by you and his dreamy stare exposed him for it.

━ Don’t even think about it. ━ Ghost voice snapped him back to the reality. The British soldier emerged from the building the same way the colonel did after the conversation came to an end with Mr. Hausner.

Simon Riley wasn’t a fool. He noticed all the little peaks at his girlfriend other soldiers usually would take, she was in fact a pretty thing. So it didn’t take much to notice that the tall guy from KorTac took a liking of you. Too much liking in Ghost’s opinion.

━ Verzeihung [ger.: Excuse me] ━ König apologized, flustered slightly by obviousness of the situation. He instantly understood the reference. ━ didn’t know she was… taken.

━ Yeah ━ British lieutenant scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. His dark irises didn’t even dare to stare at him. His eyes were on you ━ she’s very much taken.

There was a dead silence between the two of them - for a short moment, before Ghost gave you a heads up.

━ Y/C, we’re moving.

The rough and firm tone of Ghost’s voice made you snap back into reality. You were in the middle of something, right? Yet, you almost jumped on that little bench painted in floral patterns.

━ Coming, lieutenant. ━ You declared quickly, before putting the little girl over your hip again and heading inside of her home.

Ghost was a few steps ahead and so you had to pass the massive figure of König to go inside again. You pressed the child’s head into your cleavage as she was a little scared of colonel’s hood.

Well, you would be too, if you saw his cold stare in the middle of the night from under that veil, right?

━ Don’t worry, he just looks scary. He won’t bite. Isn’t that right, sir? ━ You sent him a polite smile as you tried to comfort the petrified girl. Your hand caressing her golden locks.

But he was speechless at the moment. He couldn’t form a simple sentence. A fucking grown ass man. “So fucking pathetic”, he thought to himself. Your lips twisting into a wide smile for him. It wouldn’t be easy for him to erase that sight from his memory. König would have trouble falling asleep that night, thinking of you.

A/N: ♪ Two big guys and they grab on my thighs ♪

#reader insert #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #konig x reader

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hobie-enthusiast · 11 months

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ALEX I JUST HAD AN IDEA...

so you know how spidey sense like, lets the spider know that there's a danger nearby before it gets to them? what if there was a spidey sense but for like, not danger. yk. like. LIKE...

i imagined hobie sitting by himself somewhere, not really paying attention? and then he gets this feeling that envelopes him whole and gives him the warm fuzzies and makes him smile, and he doesn't get what it is until his s/o comes up behind him and hugs him from behind, or like slaps his shoulders trying to scare him and he just wuvs them so much

im so soft you made me soft for hobie look what you've done!!!!

- your friendly neighborhood 🕷️ anon [ idc if emoji anons are so last year im spider anon now >:) ]

THAT FUNNY FEELING !

— hobie brown x gn!reader

— fluff, just straight fluff, hobie being so in love its crazy, petnames and lots more fluff

— hobie's spider-senses were giving him a new sensation, but he couldn't really put his finger on what it was

— ANON THIS IS SO ADORABLE MUWAH! ALSO EMOJI ANONS ON TOP I LOVE IT

Hobie had been getting a new warm feeling that he didn't understand.

It happened whenever he was at peace. There was never any danger near him or around him. He could be sitting there, minding his business, only for this warm feeling to engulf his entire body. His mind draws blank as it’s engulfed with that damn fuzzy feeling.

He could never say he hates it though. It reminds him of you.

It comes at him whenever he’s somewhere with you. Whether the two of you are just hanging out, winning a battle, or walking around, he’s randomly hit with a wave of a good-feeling. One that stays with him for a small while, that feels like happiness spreading through his body.

That's how he mentally connected it to you. Of course, he didn't think for a while you truly were the cause. Not until recently.

You practically begged him to come over, to take the day off from being Spider-man and hang out with you. Hobie always had a hard time saying no to you, so he agreed.

You were out at the local shoppe by this point, so he let himself in (with the spare key you gave him of course). He looked to find ways to entertain himself, settling on strumming his guitar. He kicked his feet onto your bed as he lied back in your desk chair.

After a small while, he started getting that feeling again. That fuzzy one that engulfs him entirely, making him feel good. He glances up to look around, but sees nothing. He found it odd, but maybe it meant you were back home?

Nah, he was kidding himself. The connection was probably just in his head.

—

You place your groceries on the counter, ears picking up the sound of a guitar playing. You smile to yourself. Of course you know who the culprit was. He had a key because of you anyways.

Slowly, you creep up to your bedroom, carefully cracking the door. You keep quiet as you admire your boyfriend from afar. He seemed so relaxed, which wasn't usual for him.

Hobie deserved some peace and relaxation after saving so many people. You seemed to be the only one who truly thought that. Miguel didn't see it that way. The criminals among New York didn't understand that. And even Hobie himself didn't think he deserved a break for doing what he's supposed to.

So watching him so.. unaware for once truly was a sight.

You enter the room as quietly as possible, creeping up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

When you crept up, Hobie was engulfed by that feeling again. A warm smile crosses his face when he feels you lean against him, laughing in his shoulder.

"There ya are." He said with a small laugh. "I had a feelin' you were home."

You raise an eyebrow, smile never faltering. "What? No you didn't! You were so unaware when I snuck up behind you!"

Hobie raises his eyebrows, the feeling slowly fading from his body. So he was right! That warm and euphoric feeling did come from you, his lover. No one else could make him feel that way, not even close.

"Oooh, does the tingle work even for me?" You ask in an excited tone.

"The.. tingle?"

You nod happily, moving so you sit on the bed by his legs. "Yeah! You know, the thing you use to sense danger."

God Hobie found you so.. mesmorizing. Your truly somewhat childish nature that wasn't that but close, he loved it.

"Nah, only works for danger, love." He responds, looking down and strumming his guitar.

"Then you can't sense me! I'm like a ninja. This is perfect." You say, standing and grabbing Hobie's arm. "C'mon, I have some groceries for dinner."

He nodded and stood, guitar on the bed as he followed you to the kitchen. Of course he was going to keep the sensation a secret. He wanted to keep that for himself, a way you make him feel. And besides, what's the harming in letting you think that you could sneak up on him?

It could bring more heartfelt moments like that.

—

Ever since then, Hobie pretended to be blissfully unaware.

He pretended like he couldn't feel you sneaking up on him to scare him. He pretended he never knew you were right behind him, waiting for him to see you. He pretended like he didn't expect your "unexpected" or "surprise" hugs.

Because honestly, he loved you. Hobie loved these little things, even if it sounded weird in itself. He loved having a partner who was always catching him off-guard with affection, even if he was sensing it.

There are random times when the two of you are just sitting together, each one doing a separate activity. He would be on his guitar and you would be catching up on your latest game or book.

Then, that feeling would hit Hobie. He would feel the fuzies he felt from before, and a smile graces his face. It prompts him to move to hug you from behind, nuzzling his head into your shoulder or neck.

When you question him, "What are you doing, love?"

He just sighs, smile never leaving his face. "Just love ya, so damn much sweetheart."

Certainly enough to make your heart melt and cheeks go red. You always found these moments slightly odd, however. He initiated those moments whenever you planned to try and scare him or give him your own surprise hug.

He always beat you to it. Not that you could complain, oh no. If anything, you welcome this with open arms.

You had a slight feeling that Hobie wasn't being entirely honest when he said he truly never knew when you were behind him. Hobie was always aware of his surroundings. But that didn't make you think for too long. You chalked it up to Hobie just letting his guard down around you, and that made you feel nice.

This new sense of Hobie's was his personal favourite, one that he's glad comes from you, the very person he loves and appreciates so so dearly.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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catopoliscat · 1 month

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next time / kento nanami/fem!reader.

who would have thought that kento nanami was a virgin? not you. not after this long. perhaps he was saving himself for someone. perhaps he was waiting for you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab reader. penetrative sex. alcohol. dry humping. virgin!nanami. mutual pining. friends to lovers. creampie (wrap it kids). unprotected sex. touch-starved!nanami. canon!verse. you've known nanami since school. tinges of angst. nanami wanted you bad lmao. it's love babey. reader has experience. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever. wc: 7.7k. a/n: i kind of fear nanami's a little ooc here lmao, but i've spent too long on this so fuck it we ball he deserves this

also how mad would you be if i said this was set a week before shibuya arc be honest

mdni.

You’re a bottle and half of zinfandel deep when Nanami tells you.

Although you’re both a little warm, tipsy perhaps, you didn’t think either of you were quite drunk enough for this conversation just yet. It was a regular occurrence for the two of you to share a drink on a Friday, or a bottle in more pressing times.

There were more bottles than glasses, lately.

It was just two old friends, catching up. Talking. Complaining--usually about Satoru. Often you’d reminisce on easier times. Warm summers in the Jujutsu High courtyard, the cold tin of a soda in your hands, a bottle of water in his. Quiet talks of dreams and eventualities. Ignoring the gaping absence of a third at between you.

Tonight though, you’re not sure when the topic had changed. Somewhere between the last dregs of the first bottle and the beginning of the second, the conversation had grown more sombre than usual. Talk of love and relationships always seemed to make the air heavier around the two of you, for different reasons. A stark air of loneliness that not even the most tart of white wine could overpower.

You had offhandedly mentioned turning down one of the windows you had met on your last mission. He had been younger than you, still full of life where the holes in yourself had long since emptied it out. You had shaken your head, flattered, but tired. There were better options for a man like him, still full of hope and vitality, a whole life ahead of him… when you knew any day yours could be cut deftly short.

You had told yourself it had little to do with the fact that the man’s bright smile had reminded you of another, so many years ago.

In the quiet of Nanami’s living room, swirling the last drops of your wine in your glass, you had mentioned that you had no real desire for relationships anymore. Other than sex, of course, but only sexual. A temporary release, one of the few you had left. Nameless faces and hurried touches. Sometimes clinical, sometimes primal. Always quick, and never the same person twice.

You know?

To which Nanami had replied, “No.”

Misunderstanding the gravity of what he was saying, you had raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing at your lips. “Not one for one-night stands?”

It occurs to you distantly that you don’t know a lot about Nanami’s romantic life. Close as you two were, or so you liked to believe, he had never really mentioned it. And you had never asked.

Nanami had shook his head in response to your question, and you had nodded. It aligned with his character, you thought. As cold and stoic as he liked to act, you couldn’t imagine a world where he would use and discard someone. He felt too much, cared too much. He would love too much too, if given the chance. If he gave himself the chance.

In your musings, you had almost missed what he had murmured next.

“I’ve never had sex at all.”

Kento Nanami. A virgin.

The confession has your lips parting, your eyes blinking. Once, then twice, akin to an owl. You glance down at your wine glass for a moment, as if it had been the slightly smeared glass that had been speaking to you instead, and not the esteemed stoic sorcerer you had known for the better part of ten years.

You look over at Nanami on the couch, but he’s staring at the carpet, his expression contemplative, almost pensive. His brows are drawn taut, a small knit on his forehead. His lips are drawn into a thin line, a slight crease in his chin. There was a specific emotion dancing in his eyes. You almost dared to use the word vulnerable.

It seems… ridiculous. Nanami? Attractive as he was? Kind, considerate, hard-working, to a degree. A woman’s dream. In another life, perhaps your dream too.

Had it not been for Nanami’s serious demeanour, and the fact that ‘joke’ and ‘Nanami’ rarely went together in the same sentence, you might have thought he was pulling your leg. A joke between friends.

But he wasn’t. He very clearly wasn’t.

“That’s… fine,” you finally say after a small moment, fearing you had let the silence linger too long. “There’s no rush for these things.”

Nanami’s hum is short and clipped. Gruff, almost. He still refuses to meet your eye for now, and you make no move to change that. You get the distinct feeling that this newfound vulnerability doesn’t stem from him never having sex, but rather, the reason why he’s denied himself - because you know for a fact it has little to do with opportunity.

You had lost track of how many women you had watched Nanami turn down, clipped and short, yet always polite.

The silence is heavy between you. In the other room, you can hear the hum of his refrigerator, the buzz of the bulbs in the lights. Nanami’s apartment has always been quiet, but this silence feels suffocating. Paired with the wine, your head feels thick, your tongue thicker.

A few moments pass, and as the revelation of his virginity settles into your stomach like seltzer water, you realise… it makes sense. Nanami wasn’t the type to use someone for sex, even if eager. He’d only have sex with someone he was in love with. Someone he trusted at the very least.

And Nanami, as he had told you and a few others before, refused to entertain the thought of love whilst he was a sorcerer. No one with two working brain cells needed to ask why. He wasn’t alone in that choice, either.

You toy with the stem of your wineglass whilst you toy with a reoccurring thought in your mind, one that you entertained often, but had yet to voice aloud.

“You shouldn’t keep depriving yourself, Kento,” you say quietly. The use of his first name, rarely used in your adulthood, garners you a glance from him. It’s a small sign that you’re taking this seriously.

“I’m not deprived of anything.”

You scoff at that, small and quiet. “You deprive yourself of a lot, apart from pain,” you drawl, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table. Like always, the wine and Nanami’s masochistic tendencies have your tongue loosening more than it should. “I understand not wanting to have sex with anyone you’re not in a committed relationship with. It’s kind of… admirable, and definitely you.” You fold your arms across your chest, fixing him with a stare that he still refuses to meet head-on. “But why deny yourself the chance of love?”

In the back of your mind somewhere is a voice chanting ‘hypocrite’, but you ignore it. Nanami, however, does not.

He finally turns his head to face you, the lines underneath his eyes seemingly heavier in the dim light of his apartment. An eyebrow arches. “And meaningless sex is different?”

You scoff again, louder this time. “It’s not meaningless just because I don’t love my partner.”

“Or even know their name?”

You raise a sharp eyebrow, your own lips now pressing into a thin line. A part of you wants to retort, to snap, but you remember the vulnerability in his face from a few moments ago, and you just about hold your tongue.

With an exhale, you grab the half-empty wine bottle off of the coffee table instead and gesture for Nanami to hold out his glass. He does, and the glug of the wine fills the space between you.

“You ever thought about it?” You ask, filling up your own glass. In your peripheral, you see him sit quietly for a moment before he nods his head.

“I’m only human.”

You hum. “You should experience it,” you add. You swirl the wine in your glass once before bringing it up to your lips. “Even once. Even if it means nothing.”

With one glance, you can tell immediately that the idea doesn’t sit right with him. It was easy to forget sometimes how rigid and traditional he could be. Formalities that few seemed to care about these days. Always on the things you least expected.

“I couldn’t,” Nanami replies, shaking his head.

Oddly, you feel the desire to insist. Days of a sorcerer were short, and getting shorter every year. Younger than yourself and Nanami had already died long before they would ever have the opportunity to touch another, kiss another; to feel the warmth of a body against your own. They would never know what that distinct pleasure was like, even if they desperately wanted to. Time was infinite to the young, until it wasn’t.

It occurs to you quickly that you’re thinking of Haibara, and everything you and Nanami had experienced that he never would.

Something must show in your expression because Nanami raises an eyebrow at you. You swallow, before setting your glass back down on the coffee table with a dull clink. You look at him, your face surprisingly collected and casual for what you’re about to ask.

“What about me?”

Nanami’s questioning look only deepens for a moment, before something passes by his eyes. His lips part, his version of a falter. You know he knows what you’re implying, but still, he asks, “…what about you?”

“What if we had sex?” You say without hesitation. “You know me. You trust me.”

Nanami falters further. He straightens in his seat, his glass resting on his thigh, the thick muscle straining against his slacks. His whole body is thick with a tension you usually only see before a fight with a particularly highly graded curse. A vein protrudes from his neck.

His eyes flick between your face and your own glass, clearly wondering if it is time to call this night done, but you rise from your seat before he can, taking a small step toward the couch he’s sitting on.

You sit down next to him, a little closer than you usually might. He doesn’t move away. Your thigh brushes against his, and this close, you can hear his breath hitch in response.

“I’m not going to push this any further, Kento,” you say quietly, “but I’m letting you know it’s an option.”

Although you and Kento were hardly affectionate with one another like most friends, you decided to take a chance tonight. You had already taken several, what was one more?

Reaching out, you take his glass from his hand and set it next to yours on the coffee table. Hesitating only a moment, you place your hand on top of his, your fingers curling around until your fingertips touch his palm.

His hand is stiff and warm underneath your own. The bones and knuckles press against your skin.

Something in the back of your mind is wondering why you’re pushing this at all. Would it matter if Nanami died without experiencing the pleasures of the body, really? Would the world stop turning for either of you? You know if Nanami really wanted to, if he felt the want, the desire - then he could leave this apartment right now and find someone willing, someone other than you. He could have done so years ago, during those few years he had masqueraded as a normal human being with a nine-to-five.

You were risking a friendship over… what? The implied hopes and dreams of a dead fifteen-year-old? Haibara was dead. It didn’t matter to him whether Nanami experienced the things he never could.

Nanami’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a moment, and this close, you can see the faint traces of the wine staining his lips. Your gaze must linger for a touch too long because his tongue swipes across his bottom lip. The pink skin glistens with the faint glimmer of his saliva.

When you look up, you see his eyes trained on your own lips, before they quickly flick back up to meet your eyes.

“We’re friends,” he murmurs, his voice low, slightly thick.

“And we always will be,” you reply.

He glances down at your hands. Somewhere between your own thoughts and Nanami’s reiteration of your friendship, your hands had interlocked, fingers intertwined like vines. He was gripping your hand a little too tightly to be comfortable, but you didn’t flinch.

You’re not sure whether it had been your subconscious doing, or his.

“I… can’t,” Nanami mutters finally, closing his eyes for a moment. “Not like this. Not… now.”

Something clenches in your heart at his rejection, although you had expected it. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s denying you, or himself.

You smile softly nonetheless and nod. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me,” you say quietly, going to pull your hand from his grip and give him some space.

Only he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.

Your eyes flick between his hand and his eyes, still trained on your face. You raise an eyebrow, your lips parting to speak, but he beats you to it.

“But I’d like to kiss you.”

Something resembling a very quiet ‘uh’ pushes past your lips in a long exhale.

You’re not sure why the idea of kissing him felt more… intimate than the fact that you had offered your body to him only seconds prior. You’re not sure why there’s a prickle of heat at the back of your neck or your lips burn with a sudden need.

“Nanam-“

As if remembering himself, he shakes his head slightly, blinking away whatever stupor had just possessed him. He looks away, his grip on your hand loosening, but not quite pulling away.

“I… don’t know why I said that,” he mumbles. “You should go-“

Your free hand is already gripping his chin, turning his face toward yours a little too sharply. A subtle grunt leaves his throat as he looks at you, his gaze foggier than usual. From the wine, you, or the whole situation? Who knows.

Fingers against his neck, feeling the quickened thrum of his pulse, your thumb brushes against his chin, pulling the skin until his lips naturally part. You feel Nanami’s shaky exhale against your lips as you lean forward, warmth breath mingling with yours, the scent of wine heavy on the air.

You close the distance slowly, giving him time to stop this, to pull or push away. To draw an end to this nonsense before it went any further.

Instead of pulling back or pushing you away, he closes the gap so quickly your noses almost bump together.

The first press of his lips against you feels hurried and unsure. It’s off-center slightly, barely hitting the corner of your mouth, but Nanami is quick to correct it. He slots his lips against yours more firmly the second time, his lips parting to capture yours fully. You feel a rush of air against your cheek as he exhales through his nose.

The kiss is unhurried, curious almost, yet there’s a subtle urgency in it that surprises you. Your free hand moves from his chin to his jaw, fingertips softly caressing the sharp curve of it. The sound and feel of his sigh against your lips makes you shiver, and you become enamoured with it.

Enamoured with him.

You part your lips further, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, finally tasting the remnants of the wine that you had spotted earlier. An odd sound builds at the back of his throat before his mouth parts too, his tongue brushing against yours.

Something changes quickly then. His hand, larger than you ever really noticed, cups the back of your neck, his calloused thumb pressing against your jaw, drawing you closer. Your other hands, still intertwined, seem to tighten around one another like a snake's coils. The wet smacks of your lips grow louder in the quiet of his apartment, just about overriding the sound of increasingly ragged breaths, borderline panting.

Your head feels thick. Dizzy. The kiss is indulgent, almost sloppy now. Nanami’s tongue is in your mouth, exploring every crevice, tasting you with an eagerness you hadn’t thought he was capable of. Every time you brush your tongue against his, your taste buds wetly sliding against his own, a small sound rumbles in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and grumble.

After a moment that feels like an eternity too short, you pull back slightly, just enough to see his eyes as you open yours. Nanami denies you this, however, because when you open your eyes, his are still closed, almost scrunched. A faint frown tugs at his brow.

He leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. The heat of his skin against yours feels searing, your noses softly brushing against one another’s. He sighs deeply, as if pulled from the back of his chest. It almost sounds like defeat.

“Kento-“

“I want you,” he breathes out, and your voice almost hitches as you feel rather than hear his voice. It’s a deep, husky sound, more rumble than syllable. But there’s a crack in his tone belying a raw vulnerability that you weren’t familiar with. Not from him.

His eyes finally open, looking up at you from underneath his brow. His hazel eyes are almost black, you realise, the familiar colour you’ve always admired swallowed up by a sea of coal. You wonder if yours are the same.

He’s trembling too. You can feel his fingertips shake where they press against the nape of your neck.

“I thought you didn’t want… this,” you murmur. ‘Sex’ suddenly feels too…

“I changed my mind,” he replies, a touch too quickly for you to believe that he was thinking clearly.

But God, did you want him too. You want him so fucking bad it almost makes you ache. Your feelings toward Nanami had always been friendly, respectful. He had been your closest friend, your ally, your confidant. You had been through so much together. You liked him, every part.

And somewhere along the way, between the four years apart as he pursued a different life and the first time you had hugged him when he finally returned, Gojo grinning over his shoulder… you think, that like had changed to love.

It quickly occurs to you that you weren’t pushing Nanami to experience sex for fear of him missing out. That was you. You were scared of missing out on him.

It’s that revelation that makes you pull back slightly, and Nanami’s eyes widen a little, some of the hazy fog clearing. His hand slides from the back of your neck, falling limply against the couch next to your thigh.

“I… I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” you mutter, glancing away, staring at the two wine glasses on the coffee table before looking back at him. “It’s your choice. Your first time should be on your terms, not because I think you’re missing out or depriving yourself.”

You go to remove your hand from his, but once again, his grip tightens, but there’s a tenderness to it this time. A gentle squeeze, almost begging you not to go. Not yet.

He looks serious now, staring at you squarely, as if about to deliver a mission report, and its the first familiar expression you’ve seen on his face thus far. He swallows thickly, the only thing belying his hesitation.

“I said I couldn’t have a one-night stand.”

You frown. “And th-“

“I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.”

Some of the breath flees your lungs as you look at him. His lips are still pink and slightly swollen from kissing, his cheeks still slightly flushed from the wine and your touch. You become distinctly aware of the scent of his cologne, faded but warm from his skin. It’s soft, smoky almost. You have the urge to bury his nose in the crook of his neck and breathe.

You know what he’s trying to say, what he’s trying to ask. You know what he wants because you want it too. You realise you’ve wanted it for a long damn time.

Words fail you. They feel… inadequate to describe what you’re feeling, what you desire, what you’ve always desired buried down underneath the guilt and trauma.

But you still can’t bring yourself to say it out loud. Not here. Not yet.

And neither can he.

You’re not sure who makes the first move, all you know is that your lips are pressed against his and he moans into your mouth as if something had finally let go. It’s like a cork had finally been released, a lifetime of pent-up feelings pouring out in one gush.

His hand is back at the nape of your neck, holding you tightly this time, unwilling to let go. His lips part more readily with every press, his tongue seeking yours with a pinpoint determination. You skip his jaw this time altogether, aiming straight for his hair that you’ve been dying to touch since… you don’t know when.

The hand that had been holding yours hostage finally releases, only so his fingers can brush against your waist. His fingers brush against your ribs through your clothes, tugging you closer until you’re rising up onto your knees on the couch just to oblige. He’s tilting back, his broad shoulders bumping against the couch cushions behind him - and it’s only distantly you register it’s because you’re pushing him back against it.

Something shouts at you in the back of your mind to take your time, to savour this, to savour him. You may want each other badly, but this is Nanami’s first time. It should be done carefully, respectfully, the way he would treat you if this position had been reversed.

But then Nanami’s hand has moved from your waist to your thigh, blindly grabbing it as he pulls it over his lap. Before you know it, you’re straddling his hips with a huff against his lips, and something like a sharp, pained groan leaves his lips.

You pull away from his lips with a ragged breath, concern knitting your brow until you realise what the cause of his groan was.

Straddling him, you can feel the pulse of his desire underneath you, the hard ridge of the bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core through your own clothes. One hand is grabbing your hip tightly, almost too tight, as his forehead rests against your shoulder. The other hand is on your thigh, his thumb digging into the plush flesh there.

His breathing is ragged, extremely so. Hot puffs fall against your skin. You weave your fingers through his hair softly, and you watch with reverence as a strong shudder rolls down his spine in response.

“We can stop, if you’d like,” you murmur against his ear, going to rise up on your knees to give him a little breathing room.

“Don’t,” he grunts, the grip on your hip and thigh quickly stopping you. He exhales again, a shaky sound as he keeps his forehead stamped against your shoulder. His voice emerges again, barely audible, slightly pained. “...I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Your grip in his hair tightens in response. In a flood, memories of him rush through your mind. A thousand different glances, subtle touches, small clues. Even in school, the way he would linger, a touch closer every time Suguru or Satoru would appear. The hand at the bottom of your back in a restaurant. The way he would lean in to hear you in a crowded place.

The way his arms had tightened around you when he had returned after four years away. I missed you too, almost inaudible against your ear.

Nanami didn’t want a one-night stand. What was the point of sex at all, if it wasn’t with you?

The thought has you rolling your hips down against his before you can stop yourself, feeling the firm length of his cock grind against your core. A moan leaves your lips, and something guttural leaves his.

The hand on your thigh moves up to your other hip, pulling you down tighter against him as if he could slide inside you right now. “Don’t tease,” he hisses between clenched teeth. He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against your neck. He leaves a searing, open-mouthed kiss against your pulse point. “Not now, not after this long.”

“You think you’re the only one who waited?” You pant as you grind again, firmer this time. His hips buck against yours in response, a muffled groan leaving his lips, imprinted against your neck. You can feel his cock throb against you, twitching against the fabric that separates you.

“…you wanted this too?” He breathes out after a moment.

You nod, though you doubt he can see it from the way his face is buried against the crook of your neck. “Since you came back. Since you hugged me back and said you missed me.”

His hands move from your hips to wrap tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t bear for a single slither of space to be left between you two. His hips jut up against you once again, a ragged breath leaving his lips. It seems the idea of you wanting him for so long the same as he had the same effect on him as it had on you. If not more.

He holds you a little tighter, running the sharp point of his nose along your throat as he tilts his head up. Finally, finally, he breaks free of your neck to look up at you, lips parted, eyes almost desperate.

With a thick swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing, he goes to say something but falters, and murmurs your name instead. His dark eyes flick between your eyes and your lips. His cock twitches underneath you.

“Please,” is all he can croak out, and the moan that almost leaves your lips would have been primal.

You nod your head, giving his shoulders a small squeeze, pushing him back slightly. He seems reluctant to let go, but finally relents after a little insistence, reclining back against the couch. His arms unwind and his hands drop to your hips. He looks up at you, clearly waiting for your lead.

You sit back slightly on his parted thighs, the muscles firm and supportive underneath you. Letting your hands fall from his shoulders, you drag your fingertips slowly down over the expanse of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his wrinkled shirt. As your fingers skate over his abdomen, you feel the muscles flex and roll. Nanami looks at you readily.

“We should do this properly,” you murmur, your eyes trained on the lower buttons of his shirt, near the waistband of his slacks. “In a bed.”

Nanami, to your surprise, shakes his head quickly, giving your hips a small squeeze. “We’ve waited long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t disagree. Despite the need, the ache, the pulse of your own core, you can’t help but think of if the positions were reversed. The image of candles, roses and soft music fills your mind, Nanami’s guiding hands and murmured praises. It would be slow and romantic. Perfect.

“Nanami,” you breathe out, almost chastising. With the way his cock is pressing against you, you have no doubt he’s not thinking clearly right now; the thought of having what he had wanted for so long within his grasp clouding rational thought.

He shakes his head again, a lock of his mussed hair tickling his brow. “Next time.” He shifts, sliding down the couch a little more and spreading his thighs - and in turn, spreading yours. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you a little closer until you’re seated right on top of him. “Next time,” he repeats in a groan. “We’ll go slow. I’ll explore every inch of you, taste you. Now, I just want…” He exhales an unsteady breath, sounding like your name. “I just want you.”

Your fingers linger near his shirt's lower button, and one of Nanami’s hands unclasps itself from your hip to gently grasp your wrist. He guides your fingertips to the belt buckle, the metal cool against your hot fingers.

You meet his eyes once more, and his gaze is a paradox of firmness and vulnerability. He’s nervous, you think, but ready. Almost desperately so.

Without another word, your other hand reaches down to join your other one, and your fingers are surprisingly deft as you slide the leather through the metal. Nanami watches your hands with rapt attention until the belt is loose. Your fingers slide over the metal button of his slacks, and you don’t check in this time. You pop it open before sliding his zipper down, the crackle of the metal teeth as loud as a gunshot between you.

A small sigh of what you think is relief leaves his lips as the fabric parts, giving you a small glimpse of the dark boxers underneath, straining over his cock. A small wet patch blooms at the top, wear his tip would be, and a shudder runs through you.

Your fingers tuck into the waistband of his underwear, lingering for a moment. You look up at him at the same time he looks up at you. Without a sound, Nanami lifts his hips and you rise up to your knees.

With a few firm tugs, you manage to inch his slacks and boxers down enough to free him. A small huff leaves his lips as the cooler air of the apartment hits his overheated flesh, and you watch in rapt attention as his cock twitches, the flushed tip glistening already.

It’s longer than you expected. Thicker too. Uncut. A prominent vein runs up the underside of it, and you have the sudden urge to follow it with your finger, or your tongue.

Nanami shifts underneath you, and you realise you’ve been staring a touch too long.

You pull your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes, and his breathing seemed to have quickened. Anticipation is making him stiff, almost antsy, a rare sight on a man you’ve rarely ever seen anything of other than composed.

It’s endearing.

Reaching down, you satisfy your own urge and run your fingertip up his shaft, following the vein, feeling it pulse steadily to the rhythm of his heart. Nanami’s hips twitch, his eyelids fluttering. Dark eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

When you curl your fingers around him, gripping him firmly at the base, his eyes shoot open, snapping to the sight of him in your palm. You give him one pull upwards, and a bead of pre-cum wells in the divot of his slit.

“Fuck,” comes out in a very quiet, gruff choke. Your eyebrows rise in surprise, a small smile on your lips. Nanami didn’t always curse, and especially not like that.

“Language, Nanami,” you tease, and his eyes flick up to you, something indignant and impatient in his eyes. You usually weren’t one to tease, and he wasn’t one to be teased.

You continue to stroke him slowly for a moment, rubbing your thumb against the sensitive tip. You fingers quickly become tacky, the glide of your hand more fluid, until the lewd wet noise starts to rise to the same level as Nanami’s breathing. He grunts with every upward stroke, his hips twitching underneath you. Had it not been for your weight on top of him, you get the distinct feeling he’d be bucking up into your palm a little more eagerly. His head falls back against the couch, lips parted, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he relaxes more into the sensation.

It occurs to you that you’ve seldom seen Nanami this relaxed.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?” you ask, “with me on top?”

He nods but doesn’t open his eyes. His hands run up from your hips to your waist, a soft caress. “It’ll be… easier for me- hah-“ Another choked groan leaves his lips as you give the head of his cock a small squeeze, and Nanami’s hand flies to your wrist in a blink, stopping you from making another move.

You feel his cock throbbing in your grasp, and Nanami’s straight-up panting now, his eyes slightly wild as he tilts his head up to look at you. It’s an arousing reality to know that you had just pushed Nanami dangerously close to the edge without even meaning to.

“I won’t last,” he murmurs, looking up at you, his eyes shining.

You realise quickly that he’s actually asking a question. Are you sure?

“This time,” you reply with a small smile. With his hand still around your wrist, you give his cock another squeeze, and he grits his teeth, that vein in his neck protruding once more. You can see the taut muscles in his abdomen flexing from where his shirt has bunched up.

As much as the idea of making Nanami cum, right here, right now, appeals to you, you relent for now. You’d love nothing more than to watch him spill into your palm, to see the euphoria and bliss play out on his face… but that was for another time. The next time, perhaps.

You release his cock, letting it fall back against his lower stomach with a dull smack, making him hiss through his teeth. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his throat, nipping at the skin softly.

You guide his hands to the waistband of your own bottoms, and he wastes little time in following your unspoken order. The press of your lips against his throat clearly distracts him, but he manages to pull down your clothes enough to leave you in your underwear. You kick them off the sofa haphazardly, not leaving his neck for a single moment.

He catches you off guard when his hand immediately dives for your sex, cupping your heat through the dampened fabric. You stutter against his neck, gripping onto his shoulders for support in response.

Your eyelids close, goosebumps erupting across your skin as you feel just how wet you are. “Nanami,” you gasp.

“Kento,” he whispers quickly. Once, then twice, he rubs his palm along your clothed pussy, something guttural building in the back of his throat as you buck down into his touch. “You’re… so wet.”

The wet spot on the fabric clings tightly to your folds, doing very little to dampen the sensation of his touch. His fingers are exploratory, a tentativeness that belies his lack of experience with this, but his touch, the fact it’s him, here and now, makes up for it all.

You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed a touch such as this. Not like this.

Despite toying with Nanami’s cock until he almost burst, hypocritical impatience gets the better of you, and you remove your hand from his shoulders to tug down your own underwear, kicking it off to join the growing pile on the floor. Bare from the waist down, Nanami’s eyes roam over the exposed skin almost hungrily.

Both calloused hands run up your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh slightly. You see his hand move for your pussy once more, but your fingers are curling back around his cock again before he can distract you.

Next time, keep parroting in your mind. Next time you can both endure hours of foreplay; touching, kissing, tasting, the whole nine yards. You promise to make him cry out before he even sinks inside you, to run your tongue along every inch of his skin until you’re sick of the taste of him. You’d know he’d do the same.

But you two had waited long enough.

Gripping the base of his cock again, you brush it up against your heat, your own slick smearing across him. Nanami’s eyes almost roll back into his head, but he closes his lids before you witness it. You’re faring little better, the mere sensation of having him against you like this, the tip of his cock rubbing up against your clit sending you dizzy. You angle your hips, and just feeling the thick head press against the tight, slick ring of muscle is enough for a moan to already tumble past your lips.

Something flickers in Nanami’s gaze as he opens his eyes again, honing in on the sight of you braced above him like this. He grips your hips, his touch light, merely supporting you for now. You look back once into his eyes, and go to check in just once more, but he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s little more than teeth and raw need.

His lips pressed against yours, you sink down, the wider head of his cock slipping inside you. Your lips part in a soundless gasp against his mouth, swallowing the ragged groan that leaves his throat. The stretch is slightly more than you’re prepared for. Distantly, you think, skipping foreplay wasn’t the wisest idea, but desperation, need, pushes you forward regardless.

So you sink down further, inch by inch, and as he slides deeper and deeper, his grip on your hips grows tighter and tighter, until the force of his fingers dulls the ache of his cock kissing your cervix.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as you finally bottom out, hips sitting on top of his. You realise you’re breathless, and that cowgirl might not have been the best position for taking someone of his size. Certainly not in one go, like you just had.

Nanami is fairing no better. His mouth is agape, his biceps trembling where he clings to you. He seems dazed, winded, panting into your mouth as his arms wind against you. He pulls you forward, and you both moan as his cock seems to slide just that little bit deeper.

You’re dizzy, strained, stretched out far more than you can ever remember being before. Your eyes are scrunched closed, your forehead knocking against his. Everything feels distant and muffled. It takes you a moment to realise Nanami’s muttering something repeatedly in fragmented gasps.

When you open your eyes, he’s looking at you almost panicked, his eyebrows knitted upward. His teeth are bared, gritted - and it’s now you notice that you’re clenching around him so tight that you’re not sure if you’re causing him more discomfort than pleasure.

You swallow thickly, trying to catch your breath. You’re flushed, prickly heat blooming across your chest and neck. You shift a little, and something pained rumbles from the back of Nanami’s chest in response.

“Do you want me to stop or-“

“Don’t,” he grunts, his fingers shaking against your back. “Don’t move.”

The throb of his cock inside you is insistent, and it takes everything in you not to clench tighter around him in response. You know he’s close, dangerously close, and as much as you want to rise up on your knees and slam yourself down on his cock until he’s begging you to stop, you clench your jaw and relax.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin softly; small pecks and affectionate touches. He shivers, and his cock still pulses, but slowly, muscle by muscle, he relaxes too, ragged pants dissolving into hot, muted breaths. His arms around you loosen, holding now, not gripping.

“Tell me when you want me to move,” you whisper against his ear, pressing a small kiss to the lobe.

He nods, brushing his cheek against yours with a soft sigh. His hand moves from your back upward, until he cups the back of your head, drawing your lips back to his. It’s a soft kiss, loving; slow and sensual slides of wet skin mingling with gentle exhales. Before you know it, and before he says, you’re rolling your hips greedily, just grinding against him for now.

A guttural sound leaves his lips. His forehead feels hot and sticky pressed against yours like this, a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

You feel his thighs shift, widening as far as the slacks still around his thighs can allow, feet planted more firmly into the carpet. The first roll of his hips is disjointed, off rhythm with your own, but the slight drag of his cock against your walls has you moaning brokenly. The second roll, a little more confident, has you pressing your hips down to meet it, and your back arches like a cat.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, your voice thick and throaty. You moan his name, wait for the third shallow thrust, and meet it. “You feel so fucking good.”

He looks up at you like you hung the stars, his eyes widening at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips like a fractured halo. He loses his rhythm, but you soon pick it back up for him, starting to use your thighs to slide more eagerly down his cock. It’s still shallow, Nanami’s arms around your waist preventing you from really going for it, but you’re unwilling to part from the closeness for now.

You bounce a few inches at a time, the dull clap of your hips and the lewd squelch of your hot cunt wrapped tight around him filling the air of the apartment. With each bounce, a grunt pushes out from his chest, hot breath fanning across your face.

Nanami, though inexperienced, starts to let his body guide him. His hips buck up to meet you more confidently, and the growing force of his movements has you keening, fingernails biting into his shoulders.

You look square into his hooded eyes, breath mingling, and see the flush across his skin, his lips glistening with saliva. You moan again, higher pitched this time, and Nanami’s next thrust has you jolting up a little, nose bumping against his. You clench around him again, and his brow knits together.

“S-Shit,” he pants, his hips starting to jolt more readily, pushing a little too forcefully into you, quickly losing his rhythm. “I’m not… I’m not going to last…” His movements quicken, grow more erratic, and you’re not even sure he realises. “… you’re so fucking… tight.”

The last part is little more than a throaty whisper, his voice cracking. You stop meeting his thrusts and instead, widen your stance, tighten your core, and let him take what he needs. The movement, though small, isn’t lost on him, and he looks up at you, emotion swimming heavily in his dark gaze.

He thrusts up grow more erratic, sloppier, something like a grunt leaving his mouth with every dull thwap of his hips against your ass. His arms tighten around you, fingertips pressing into your skin. A groan, a hiss, and a swallow. The couch creaks and strains.

“N-Next time - hah - next time… I want t-to feel you cum around me,” he pants, his arms starting to shake. “I’ll give you everything, anything, fuck, I-I’ll keep going until… until… God-“

He’s barely pulling out now, a mere inch is all he’s moving, the head of his cock bullying against the soft spot right next to your cervix. Choked, high-pitch moans are the only sounds you can make, and you distantly note you’ve never sounded like before. Not ever.

You’re getting there, you realise. Not quite close, and definitely not as close as him, but the way his cock fits inside you, the slap of his hips against you, the way he’s looking at you… it’s pushing you there fast.

But it’s not quite enough.

“I’m close,” he gasps. “I… where…”

“Inside,” you reply without hesitation. Something passes by his eyes, a small flicker of concern, perhaps, swimming in the sea of lust and arousal. You try to find your bearings enough to tell him it’s okay, you wouldn’t have taken him inside if you weren’t protected-

-but then his cock is twitching inside you, and Nanami is shaking, shaking underneath you, his thighs jolting, nearly bucking you off his lap altogether.

With one last slam of his hips against you, buried as deep as he could possibly ago, a long, primal groan leaves him. It’s deep, visceral, easily mistaken for something pained - and it might be the most divine fucking sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

He buries his face against your throat as his hips buck involuntarily a few times, and you shiver as you feel that familiar warmth bloom inside you. He’s giving you everything, or what feels like it. Your pussy flutters around him, and his fingertips press into you so tight you wouldn’t be surprised to see bruises.

His heart is hammering against your chest, the thump pounding even in your own chest. Ragged pants and a heavy quiet settles over the living room. His cock continues to twitch inside you, growing weaker with every thud of his heart.

Nanami doesn’t pull his head from your throat for a long while, his nose pressing into your skin as he pants against you.

After a moment, he finally swallows. “… I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I… I should have made you-“

“Shut up,” you murmur against his warm hair, breathing in the faint scent of sweat and his shampoo. He seems to get the picture, of what you were trying to say. He always did. “Next time,” you add anyway, just to be sure.

He lifts his head from your skin, looking up at you blearily. You smile fondly as you see his face again, the harsh lines on his brow and his eyes smoother now, no longer creased as they always seemed to be. He looks… so much younger, you think, like this. Relaxed. Sated.

You brush some of his sweaty hair out of his face, and his eyelids flutter at the brief contact. He seems exhausted, you think.

“I meant what I said,” he murmurs as he looks up at you. “I don’t want this to…” His palm moves against your back, sliding down your spine. “I want you. Properly. I always have.” He swallows. “Always.”

Your eyes soften. He looks at you expectantly, almost vulnerably.

“You have me,” you murmur in reply, finally. “Properly.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and it’s warmer than you’ve ever seen before. Genuine. Light. It’s as if a decade of weight lifts from his broad shoulders, if only briefly.

He pulls you close once more, his lips pressing against yours softly, lovingly, and the world seems to fade away.

For now, of course.

masterlist.

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

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netherfeildren · 3 months

Text

10:05 PM

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel is exhausted, you're there to make him feel better.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post Outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; Somnophilia; Established Relationship; Friends With Benefits, kinda; Free Use; PIV Sex; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Kind of mean and uncaring Joel, but at least he makes you cum; Rough Sex; Somno may or may not have been previously discussed, but she's okay with it happening; He's in kind of in a hopeless and numb state of mind (likely thing for Joel Miller to be)

A/N: idk man whatever i might look into religion after this

Word Count: 1.4K

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

10:05 PM

He’s exhausted.

That sort of tiredness that takes you away from yourself. The sort that takes away rest and peace and the ability to let go. Like you’ve crossed over the edge of the world where sleep is no longer possible, and all you are is sore and dirty and beaten, and you don’t think you’ll ever rest again. It’s just the too hard day, and the too hot sun, and a night that won’t ever end.

And Joel is tired.

He knows if he falls into bed now, he won’t sleep. He’ll stare up at the water stained ceiling, the cracks in the plaster deeper than the cracks in his mind, and he’ll find no rest and no peace and no forget, and all he’ll do is remember.

Pulling his shirt over his head as he goes, he toes one unlaced boot off and then the other, the sweat damp cotton sticking cold and tacky to his back, and it peels off slow, a little disgusting, the grime of his shift all along his skin, in his hair, between his toes and under his fingernails and looking at you, the slow rise and fall of your shoulder as you sleep so peacefully, he knows he shouldn’t touch you, have you, know you.

He doesn’t really care.

The button of his jeans, sticky, warm summer night air against his already hardening cock, and he watches you. You’re wearing a little white tank, worn and frayed and old as a long past life, ratty panties, too hot to pull the sheet over yourself, nothing but a sheen of sweat for cover. You’re beautiful in the way things aren’t beautiful anymore. Beautiful in a way that makes him not want you. But you’re here, and you’re his, and you give him things he doesn’t deserve, yourself, and Joel is a selfish creature now, bad and bristled in the way this new world demands, so he takes.

All the time Joel Miller takes things.

He doesn’t love you because he can’t, because he doesn't have it in him. But there’s peace here, or comfort, or something easy and silent and freely given. Understanding, maybe, which is all anyone can ask for anymore. He shucks his grime covered jeans and crawls over you, and he shouldn’t touch you, never should have, but he does because, again, he’s selfish, he touches you because you let him, because he has nothing else but this to feel good and man about.

Hooking his fingers beneath the edge of your panties he pulls them down, slow and steady, watching the rise and fall of your ribs, steady heart in the steady rhythm of your breath. You’re still asleep, and he’s going to have you because he can, because you’re his without commitment or ask or demand. Because it’s easy.

He pushes a soft thigh up high, opening you to his gaze and pulls your cheeks apart gently, dragging a gentle thumb up the crease of your sex as he goes. You hadn’t waited up for him the way you did most nights, and he’s grateful for this, grateful for the fact that you’d spare him from conversation, questions, wants. All the things he can’t give you and doesn’t even really want to because he doesn’t have any of that in him anymore.

Sometimes, and he’ll admit it because Joel isn’t a liar, honest to a fault, he’ll feel that faint whisper, dream pulse of desire, like a thing he knows exists somewhere in the world just not inside him that beats of togetherness or commitment or love. Something that beats of all the things he knows you want but he can’t give.

His thumb against your little clit, and he circles and circles against the warm, damp dryness. You’re not dreaming of him, no immediate well of slick desire, and through his haze, it makes him a little bothered, a little sad if he still had the ability to be sad. But he circles and circles, and you shift and whimper, and then finally, eventually, there’s that drip of want. Sticky and sweet and only for him because he might not love you, but he does possess you, and you’re only for him.

You turn your face further into the pillow, hips hitching, cunt dripping, a deep sigh and his thumb presses in, tastes the well. You’re warm and hot and tight, and he slicks his thumb in and out of your cunt, fucking you slow and gentle, stretching you a little while you still refuse to wake for him. He wonders what it would be like to love you, to know you dream of him, to dream of you. He shoves your thigh higher, wet enough now, and lines his cock up.

Joel is tired, but he has this, and it’s enough.

Cockhead notched at your entance, and one thing he does still love: the sight of his too wide head against your too small hole, the sound of wounded hurt you make when he shoves inside and makes you all his. And he keeps himself slow and gentle at first, he doesn’t want you awake, that’s not what this is, he only wants you his and for him, until he’s all the way pressed inside, deep enough for you to wake with hurt and you shift and wiggle and your hips arch like you want to escape or want more but it doesn’t really matter anyways because you’re caught and flayed now.

“J– Joel?” Soft as a butterfly while your cunt flutters around him. “What’re you doing, Joel?” And if there wasn’t the moan of his own little whore in the sound of you, he’d think otherwise, but he knows you’re pleased to be woken so. You press and clench and stretch like a cat, spine long and lean and fluid, arms reaching for something he can’t and won’t ever give.

He swings his hips back, fucks in again, your cunt’s good and wet now, and the giving’s good as the take. “Don’t worry, baby. Just gotta come. You don’t gotta do anything.” He pulls back again, your pussy flutters and sucks at him, and you plant your hands against the apocalypse stained wall of this poor and sad room in a place that used to be called Boston and let him use you as he needs. Just gotta come in you, he tells you again.

And you might whisper that it’s okay, it doesn’t really matter if you do or don't’. He doesn’t need to know, he doesn’t need to care. Joel buries his face in your throat and loses himself in the wet of your cunt and the heat of your skin, the scent of your sweat, fingers clutching and twisting at your breast, and there's a sound of hurt or want coming from your throat. He doesn't care much about that either. Just take it, just take it, he says over and over. “Just lay there and take my cock.” The sound of your wet, sloshing cunt is the loudest thing in the whole dead world, and he loses himself in it. He counts his breaths, counts his not blessings, only you, and eventually, he fucks deep enough he hits your womb, that place he’s reckless and careless about, and you start to milk him deep. A moan of his name, Joel, sleep addled, love deluded, what else would excuse or allow treatment like this, and you come on his cock like you always do. Long pulls of a too easy, too delicious cunt, the contractions of your womb reverberating through every line of your muscles while you suck him deep and cry into the pillow. Joel swears and sweats worse than he did through his long twelve hour shift, grunting and panting above you. And when he anchors himself above you on locked, bulging arms to watch the drag of your red cunt around his cock, slicked with desperate want for something neither of you will ever have, the way your ass bounces and jiggles against his too rough thrusts, he comes too. Fills you deep and full to the brim, enjoys the spill of it around the place where he fills you, spills himself dry. And he doesn’t feel content, Joel, but he does feel satisfied, he does feel sated. And he tells you that you’ve been a good girl because he knows you like it and knows you deserve it. And if he presses a soft and gentle kiss to the wing of your naked and sweating shoulder, it isn't because he loves you, but because he needs you.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #Joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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thelittlestoflives · 3 months

Text

Burning for You

this quite literally came to me in a dream soooo i had to write it!! just a lil silly drabble about the sweetest fire boy (not proofread IM SORRY)

afab reader, uses of YN

portgas d ace x strawhat!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

it's pretty steamy so i'm gonna say NSFW MDNI but it's not tooo explicit

wc: 1.5k

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The building exploded, bricks and debris flying through the air and smashing through anything in its path. You barely had time to gape in disbelief before you saw your crew scattering in different directions. Of course, this is how the ‘stealth’ plan went.

Luffy’s brother, Ace, was staying with the crew for a while and the two of you had most definitely been making eyes at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking. You were staying on an island when the crew had discovered some nefarious goings-on, and would you really be the Strawhats if you all didn’t try and right these wrongs? The plan was to sneak into the suspected building, scope it out, and then figure out the intricacies once you all knew its layout. The plan was not to blow the damn building up.

“Quick!” Ace sprinted past you, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind him.

“Was that you?” You yelled at him, referring to the building’s demise.

He flashed a grin over his shoulder at you, confirming the answer as you both ran through the unfamiliar streets.

Eventually, you stopped in an alleyway, breathing heavily.

You threw a glare at him. “I don’t recall ‘blowing up the building’ as the course of action, Ace.”

He simply threw a smile your way. “But didn’t that make it much more fun?”

“Oh, okay. So your idea of fun is, I don’t know, terrorism?”

“Pfft. They deserved it. The bastards inside were up to no good. It’s not exactly my fault they had highly flammable objects in there.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe we sent Fire Fist himself into a flammable building. I guess we have nobody to blame but ourselves for that one.” You looked up to see his incredibly (cute) smug face brightly beaming at you.

“Exactly. So really, it’s all your fault,” he teased.

“You really are Luffy’s brother,” you remarked, unable to stop your mouth from turning up.

His smile grew. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.”

You both began to walk out of the alley and back into the city as the fire brigade and island’s police ran past you to the inferno in the centre. You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as Ace walked without a care in the world beside you, arms up behind his head.

“I see you staring at me, you know,” he said.

You splutter. “Sorry?”

“You don’t need to apologise.”

“No, I wasn’t-”

“I see you staring because I’m staring at you,” you didn’t have to see his face to know exactly what kind of smile he wore. “You’re pretty damn cute.”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He stepped closer to you and draped an arm over your shoulders.

“And while we wait for the smoke to settle, if you’ll pardon the pun, I think we might as well enjoy the time we have alone together, don’t you?”

“You’re shameless,” you manage to say, head spinning due to the close proximity.

He laughed. “Maybe. But you’re too gorgeous to pass up on. What do you say, YN? Shall we make the most of it?”

You grumble at the compliment, and the butterflies in your stomach intensify. “What, uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Grab a drink somewhere? Get to know each other?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” His arm moved from your shoulders and you found yourself missing the warm contact, but only temporarily as his hand found yours and your fingers interlocked. “I want to know how you ended up on my brother’s crew.”

The bar Ace picked wasn’t one you would have chosen - slightly too ‘old man pub’ for your taste - but the drinks were cheap and there was hardly anyone inside, so you couldn’t complain too much. You both sat in a booth in the corner, shielded from any eyes that might look your way. The conversation flowed just as easily as the drinks you both threw back, and soon you were leaning over the table clutching your stomach in fits of laughter.

“You’re something else,” you choked out as you wiped the tears of laughter from your eyes.

Ace had a wicked grin on his face. “You love it though, don’t you?”

“Presumptious.”

“But true.”

You lean back in your seat and look at him only to find he was already looking at you.

At some point in the conversation, Ace had moved closer to you, dangerously close. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

He lifted his hand to hold your cheek, fingertips in your hair.

“If you don’t want this to go any further, you have to say now, princess,” he murmured. “Because I don’t know how much self-control I’ll have.”

“I… I don’t know, Ace,” you whisper. “I don’t normally do this sort of thing… I don’t want to just be some notch on your belt.”

“Oh no, no, no, YN. You’re much more than that. I don’t do this sort of thing either. I’m not some hotshot ladies’ man who sleeps around whenever he can.” He moves his hand to brush over your lips to silence your response. “I know that’s what you think of me, it’s okay. But I need you to know that’s not who I am, yeah? You’re… breaking my resolve, that’s all.”

Your eyes flutter at the closeness, the intimacy. “But, I’m on your brother’s crew. We couldn’t… I mean, we can’t…”

He raised an eyebrow, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Says who?”

Oh, fuck it.

His lips were close enough that you barely had to move to crash yours against them. He grunted a little in surprise, but wrapped his arms around you, pulling you impossibly close. Your mouths moved in tandem, the kiss getting deeper and deeper. Your hands move to tangle in his hair, his hat now off his head and hanging by the strap around his neck. His skin was on fire underneath your touch, and he groaned slightly as your tongue entered his mouth. He pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him, neither of you caring that you were in some random bar. His hands clutched at your waist and grabbed at any part of you they could. It was desperate, messy, passionate. You could feel the hardness in his shorts under you as you began to gently grind on him, the kiss now sloppy as he panted into your mouth. Thank god the booth you were in was hidden.

“YN…” He groaned as you pulled away to kiss his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping the skin lightly. “You’re teasing me.”

“Want me to stop?” you whisper, biting his ear softly.

He pulled your face away and held it in his hands, his pupils blown and cheeks red. “Not here, not like this,” he said lowly. “Something as beautiful as you needs to be devoured slowly, and not in some gross bar.”

You flushed at the compliment which pleased him greatly.

“Your room, tonight. We’ll finish what we started, yeah? Properly this time,” he pulled your face back to his and kissed you deeply.

The two of you finished your drinks, in between kisses and touches, before slipping out of the bar and dancing through the streets, hand in hand.

By the time you and Ace returned to the ship, it was dark out. He pressed some kisses to your face and you giggled, swatting him away as you didn’t want the crew to see.

When you pushed open the door to the kitchen you were immediately crashed into.

“YN!” Luffy’s excited voice called as he wrapped himself around you. “I’m so happy you’re my sister!”

For the second time that day, you splutter. “W-what?”

You didn’t miss the mischievous grins on your crew behind him.

“Well, you and Ace are together, and he’s my brother, which means you’re my sister! Welcome to the family, sis!”

Ace burst into peals of laughter at the redness of your face. You glared at your crew behind Luffy, as this was obviously their doing. Once you and Ace failed to return to the ship when everyone else did, they put two and two together.

“Oh, no, Luffy, I’m not… We’re not… It’s not like…”

Ace slung his arm around your shoulder and kissed the side of your head. “Yeah, welcome to the family, YN.”

You grumbled, but couldn’t find it in you to actually be mad. It was rather sweet after all. Whoever told your Captain about you and his brother would suffer your wrath eventually. For now, you indulge in silliness and love and count down the minutes until everyone is in bed and Ace can come to yours.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #op ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x you #ace x you #one piece x you #op x you #portgas d ace x yn #portgas d ace x y/n #ace x yn #ace x y/n

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onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

Text

when solomon falls in love

content + warnings: solomon x reader, angst with a happy ending, there is a deep sadness within solomon but i can fix him, minor discussions of s3 plot points // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.5k

the day solomon realizes he's in love with you is the worst day of his life, he thinks, in the first moment he realizes.

solomon's had a lot of terrible days. from simple ones-- caught in the rain, misplaced keys, harsh words spoken by people he cares about-- to life-altering, fate-changing hellish days. he's been around for centuries, and admittedly conjured himself up some pretty shitty karma. this day, however, tops the list.

because the moment solomon realizes he's in love with you is the moment he realizes he'll never have you.

it's a rare moment the both of you are sharing. the two of you are alone in a coffee shop in some quaint corner of the human realm. your trials with the sorcerer society have been wearing on you, so solomon saw it fitting to sweep his adorable little apprentice away for some well-deserved down time.

it's dawn here. sunlight peaks through the clouds, painting the gray skies a vibrant orange through the shop's large windows. the sunlight tickles your cheekbones, occasionally catching your eyes and making them flutter as you dodge the blinding sunbeams. how long has it been since solomon's seen you in the daylight? the devildom is beautiful, but it's dark and dim during all hours of the day. he's used to seeing you under city lights, shop signs and advertisements in neon colors dancing across your features. or under the warm-but-artificial house lights in all the buildings down there, cozy but not quite the same. no, you look best in daylight. golden, pure daylight, trickling through the cosmos just so he can see every detail on your face.

he wants to memorize you. he wants to etch your features into his brain so that he'll be able to remember you far into the future. the coming days are uncertain. licensure into the sorcerer's society is not exactly easy-- you'll have your work cut out for you if you continue down this path. maybe somewhere along the way you'll find yourself content instead with a simple life in the human realm, shedding the devildom like a winter coat in spring when your life begins a new chapter. he's always worried about you, about losing you, about a day when you'll bid him goodbye for good. obsessive? he likes to think of it as "sentimental". and he's never been this sentimental for anyone else but you.

you take a sip of your drink with a small smile. it's cold outside, the subtle chill of autumn beginning to fade into the biting cold of winter. the drink in your hands is warm, and you cup it between your between your palms for warmth. he smiles. his own drink is smooth and a little bitter. solomon he grabs the last sugar packet from the center of the table and dumps it in, swirling the mixture around the distribute the sweetness. then he folds the trash into a compact ball. there's a dink! as he flicks it at you, hitting your cheek gently before it falls onto the table. you laugh at his antics. it's the best sound he's ever heard.

"gotcha."

"what are you, seven?"

"you're just mad i have good aim."

"yeah, yeah, whatever, old man. do... do you mind if i ask you a question?"

"anything."

you proceed to ask him how he found this place. technically, it's not even in the country you're from... he laughs and explains how he found it. he likes when your attention is focused all in on him. your eyes get this certain glint to them as you listen, like he's the only person you care about in that moment. he'd kill to see that look anywhere else-- could you imagine the faces of the demon brothers should you look at him so attentively around them?

solomon swallows down the lump of jealousy rising in his throat. that's the thing. you don't look at him like that in front of anyone else.

his next sip of coffee tastes bitter, more so than before-- he can't blame the shop, nor the sugar packet for the taste, but instead the acid creeping up his throat from the mere displeasure of the idea. it's so very solomon to ruin his own good time with a nasty thought.

why?

why does he do this to himself? to cherish something so delicate even though he knows it will shatter under the weight of life's circumstances?

that's because solomon's in love with you. and love doesn't always listen to reason.

he has toyed around with the idea of loving you for awhile. he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to always be the petulant, lost child he once was, always reaching for things he was never destined to have. when he was young, he craved freedom. as an adult, power. and now, further along in his life, he wants you.

you seem to notice the sour look on his face. your eyebrows furrow as you ask him what's wrong. it's instinct that guides him to brush you off, to give you a big smile and feign attention into whatever you begin talking about next.

does he deserve you? probably not. his sins probably outweigh that of any lower demon. he's lied and cheated, fucked people over in ways unimaginable to someone like you. you're a blank slate, a clean ledger, yet to ruin your own life. or maybe you won't. you've always been better than him that way.

will he ever distance himself to heal from the wounds of unrequited love? probably not. he'll stick by your side as you inevitably choose one of the demon brothers or angels or royals over him-- he won't blame you. of all the fascinating people you've met, he understands the allure of a human like him is dim in comparison. no hard feelings. he can't ever seem to muster up anything sour towards you.

"are you listening?" you finally ask, loud enough to grab his attention. he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"sorry. i'm... a bit scatterbrained today. what were you saying?"

you huff. "i was telling you a story, but i bent my straw too far and it broke."

you bend it again to show him the damage. sure enough, it's snapped under the weight of your fidgeting. solomon's lips curl into a sympathetic pout.

"i can grab you another."

"nah, it's okay. i've got it."

you rise from your seat and walk to the counter of the coffee place. solomon takes a deep breath and steals his resolve. all this self-loathing and pining is making him a bad friend, and you deserve much better than to talk to a brick wall. he sighs. so what if he's in love with you? so what if he's lost in the tumult of his own feelings? he needs to get it together and enjoy this time with you before you return to the devildom, and he has to share you aga--

"excuse me?"

"yes? how can i help you?"

"can i get another straw? oh, and can i get some more of those little sugar packets? my boyfriend used the last one on the table."

"of course! give me one moment--"

...

what?

his brain almost completely shuts down hearing those words leave your lips. he subtly looks around to see if anyone else is in the coffee shop-- there's a man in the corner reading his paper and two teenagers huddled over iced coffee. no, none of them are at your table, using the last sugar packet like he did, your boyfriend--

"close your mouth. you're attracting flies," you say quietly, sliding a few sugar packets over to him.

he's... flabbergasted, honestly. during the entirety of his downward spiral, never once did he anticipate this outcome. you... you wanted him?

his lips pull into a smirk-- it's more of a grin than he wanted, but he just can't help himself right now. he's damn near giddy at your indirect confession.

"boyfriend? you wouldn't happen to be referring to me, would you?"

"that's why you brought me here, right?"

that question catches him off-guard. honestly, no. he just wanted some time to breathe with you, without obligations or demons ready to pounce for your attention. but the way your lips curl around the straw between them makes his heart race.

"... and if i did?"

"then i would say this is a pretty good date spot. now, pay attention when i talk, old man."

as attentive as he aims to be, he just can't stop his mind from wandering. you're his. all of the fear and angst wash away as the sun shines brightly on your table, illuminating the delicate wood grain beneath his trembling fingers. and for once, solomon doesn't worry about what will happen if he lets himself love you.

maybe this day isn't so bad after all.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #otome #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader

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lewisvinga · 3 months

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star struck | charles leclerc x fem! reader

summary; after seeing her receive an award at an award show, charles couldn’t help but become starstruck. luckily, both him and y/n were invited to the after party.

warnings; none

notes; requested !

word count; 484

taglist; @namgification

masterlist !

Charles felt like his breath was stolen when he saw her receive an award on stage. Her warm smile and the way her eyes crinkled seemed comforting to him. The champagne-colored gown adorned with flowers and gems made her seem like a goddess.

To say he was starstruck already was an understatement.

He needed to talk to her. But he thought he would never get a chance once the award show ended until he saw her standing by the bar at the after-party. Charles was a man that many women wanted. He’s always been confident in his abilities around women but for some reason, he was nervous to go up to her.

Y/n had noticed him when he walked into the club at the after-party. The waves of his brown hair and the black frames on his nose caught her breath. Her friend noticed the trance she was in due to the Monegasque.

“Why don’t you go up and talk to him?”

“What?” Y/n asks in shock, her head quickly turning to face her friend. “Are you crazy? Besides, a guy like that is sure to have a girlfriend.”

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Y/n, I saw him staring at you when you received your awards. That man definitely does not have a girlfriend.” Before Y/n could reply, a sudden voice interrupted them.

“Excuse me,” An accented voice says, causing Y/n to turn around. She was met with the familiar black frames and a pair of green eyes behind them. “You’re Y/n L/n, right? Congratulations on the awards, you really deserved it.”

A wide smile crept up on her lips. She didn’t even notice that her friend left, leaving her at the bar. “Yeah! I am. Thank you so much.” She says, holding her hand out. Her smile became wider as he happily shook her hand. “You look familiar, you must be?”

“Ah, sorry! I should’ve introduced myself first,” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “I’m Charles Leclerc. I’m a Formula One driver for Ferrari.”

“Oh! I knew I recognized you somewhere, my friend is a fan.” She replies with a small gasp. She leans against the counter and tilts her head to the side, “Care to explain to me how it all works?”

Charles began to explain the motorsport to her and how he got into it. She listened and nodded like it was the most interesting thing. One thing led to another and hours later, they were sitting outside on a bench deep into some conversation, the after-party and meeting other celebrities didn’t even cross her mind.

Her stomach suddenly growled mid-sentence and she let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that, I-“

“You know, my place is nearby. I can make a pretty good carbonara.” Charles replies with a smile. Y/n matches his smile as she stands up from the bench and holds her hand out.

“Then lead the way, Leclerc.”

“Gladly.”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #charles leclerc scenarios #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

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hanasnx · 3 months

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MINORS DNI 18+

“You did what?” HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN questions in amused disbelief, picking himself up off the bed a centimeter when his abdomen flexed from his powerful scoff.

Nestled into his side, a thick arm wound around you, you’re playfully incredulous when you animate inquiring gestures at him, frowning over his obvious skepticism. “Why would I lie about that?”

“No, baby, it’s not that you would lie, I just-“ He squeezes you tighter, and jostles you gently. Once he glances at your pout, he softens his delivery, “I’m saying, it’s hard to wrap my head around. I never thought that a fan could… you know,” he trails off, gesticulating vaguely to finish his sentence by drawing attention to your naked and tangled bodies underneath the covers.

You squeak a noise of offense, sitting up and out of his embrace clutching the sheets to your bare chest. He doesn’t deserve to see them right now. “Oh, my god.” you exclaim, and when you swing your legs out to land your feet on the cold floor, you draw the sheet with you.

“Now wait, c’mon, I didn’t mean that. Come back, you’re taking the warm with you.” he scrambles to find an excuse to keep you close, but you’re already walking away as he’s reaching for you.

“I’m going to find the picture. I know I have it somewhere.” you insist, more to yourself than him as he settles back into bed. The way your hips sway catch the thin material between your ass, and he rolls his tongue between his lips as he watches. You bend down over a box next to your bedroom desk, sifting through its contents hastily until you move onto the next one. Hayden adjusts in his seat, picking at his halfie that’s perking up at the memory of what you look like under that sheet, underneath him. “Ugh, it was right here!”

“If you don’t have it, sweetheart, don’t worry, I believe you. Come back to bed,” he coaxes, eyes hooded as he keeps them glued to you. You reach behind you, wagging a shaming finger at him to which he chuckles at.

“No, no. I’ll find it.” you scold him for his attempts to derail you from your quest, striding to the other side to check a drawer. “Ah-ha!” you interject victoriously, smug in your success as you flick the photo out of its place.

“Is that it?” he asks, craning his neck to see past you, but he sounds nonchalant, as if he’s still skeptical of your claim.

“You are gonna eat those fuckin’ words, baby,” you muse as you march right back to him, the paper flipping in air from your rush. “Take a look at this.”

You shove the photo into his view, and gingerly he takes it, his thumb at the very edge of the white line so as to not soil the quality with his fingerprints. Quietly, he observes it through the bottoms of his eyes, tipping his head back, demonstrating his aging sight as he takes a gander at it much like an old man might. Uneasily, you glance between them. “Oh.” he finally says with knowing. “You changed your hair.” he notes, tilting his head at the picture of you and him. Years ago, you’d gone to a con with the sole purpose of meeting Hayden to take a photo with him. The day you bought that photo op ticket was one of your happiest, replaced as soon as you first laid eyes on him in that booth.

“See? You believe me now.” you tell him cockily, popping your hip out.

“I remember you.” he muses in a tune, scratching at the scruff off his cheek with a pensive parted smile. “You had the cutest little ass—“

Promptly, you go to pluck the picture from his grasp. “Okay, that’s enough.” but he’s much too quick for you, jerking it away to continue ogling it.

Keeping it from you, his voice raises in volume and glee as you continue to fail to retrieve it from him. “No, no, it’s coming back to me. You tripped on the way in. Sweet little thing. Couldn’t even say anything to me, you were so nervous. Held eye contact like a champ though,”

You reach fully over him, stretching out over his lap as you struggle to grab it from him. “Hayden! Give it back!”

“Your little hand was shaking when you offered it to me. Asking for that pose. Still the same naughty girl.”

#indy: drabbles #ch: hayden #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fanfiction #reader insert

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lxvvie · 6 months

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On today's episode of 'Simps 'R Us', Call of Duty: Medic. How is your fave as a patient when you have to take care of them when they're sick/injured?

Capt. John Price - Probably the grumpiest patient ever; doesn't really know what to do with himself while he's recuperating. Also can't smoke so that contributes to the grumpiness. The boys will poke fun at him (read: Gaz and Soap) and Price threatens to make them do wall sits when he gets better. The plus side is that you're there to keep him company.

Gaz - Is somewhere in the middle between grumpy and the best patient ever, depending. Luckily, he has an abundance of entertainment in you and whatever movie or puzzle you have for him.

Alex Keller - Is actually quite agreeable as a patient where you're concerned. When he's sick, Alex is the one who has Vick's vapor rub slathered under his nose, on his chest, on his feet (with socks on, too), and he's under as many blankets as possible. Even though he hates being hot, he's prepared to sweat that motherfucker out because he'll be damned if he leaves you hanging, Boss. ❤️

Soap - Golden Retriever as fuck. This is the man who can clear a fucking building, y'all. Soap is the one who's absolutely heartbroken and mopes in bed for all the wrong reasons. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him when he's at his lowest? How could you—"Johnny, I'm in the other room."

Ghost - What is man but a miserable pile of Ghosts? Simon is agreeable because he's knocked the fuck out asleep 80% of the time. He's also under a lot of blankets. Like... a lot. So much so that you'd be forgiven for thinking that it's just a pile on the bed and not him. The only way you can tell is the tuft of hair sticking out from under the covers. Also has a tendency to sleep curled up somewhat. He feels... safe.

Roach - Is absolutely, 💯 the best patient ever. You hardly have to ever worry about him. For the most part.

Keegan - Keegan is just... there. Existing. And feel just like he looks right now: sorry and like shit. He's right there in the middle, surprisingly; he really only calms down and accepts the help because you sweet talk him into doing so.

Alejandro - Is the one who has to warm up to being a patient because if he had it his way, he'd work from bed. Good thing he doesn't and you and Rudy are there to keep his ass in bed and AWAY from the desk. He winds up loving it, though, because it means he gets to flirt with you endlessly.

Rudy - The perfect patient. In fact, he's the one who'd have a list of home remedies passed down in his family so Rudy's always prepared if something were to happen.

König - His nervous energy won't keep him down for long and, surprisingly, König hates being tended to. Doesn't like the implied helplessness that comes with it. He'll relent somewhat after you've lectured him but there are some trying moments.

Horangi - Probably the absolute worst because he won't stay down for anything. Horangi likes to move around because it helps him to not concentrate on the pain. You'd have to literally proposition him or something like that to make him stay in one place lmao.

Graves - The most complaining motherfucker on the planet. Doesn't like this shit at all. He'd have a change of heart if you were butt naked while taking care of him, darlin'.

Valeria - The one who's busy being pampered while plotting revenge on the bastard(s) who managed to get her sick.

Farah - The one who feels guilty for being in the state that she's in and would rather she tend to herself but Farah relents when you tell her she deserves this and more. It's so cute the way she gets a little bashful when you do so.

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neoameba · 3 months

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Your only and most devoted.

Heian era!Ryomen Sukuna x Male!Reader

A/N: Potentially abusive relationship, There is a slight mischaracterization of the character, but nothing much beyond that. The reading can be interpreted as 16+, although it is not a smut. Can be read as ftm!reader. Don't date someone like Sukuna ☠️.

Summary: Having a relationship with Ryomen Sukuna is crazy, everyone knows that. But, it's generally agreed that [Name] is crazy enough for that. The human man clearly has no sense of danger, or just loves the feeling of being grabbed and squeezed by the ancient sorcerer.

Another massacre was completed, and [Name] happily returned to the place where Ryomen Sukuna lives. With it, several bodies were also carried without much difficulty. Of course, all these dead human bodies would be given as food. That was the man's job, to do whatever Sukuna told him to do.

It is curious to think that he is the only being who came close to Sukuna and lived peacefully to tell the story... But it does not matter. The king of curses' right-hand man soon arrives at his destination, and once he does, he hands the bodies over to Uraume to cook.

...

[Name] kneels. It's him... He deserves absolute respect, and of course [Name] will do that.

"O great Sukuna, allow me to warn you that dinner will be ready very soon." The human says, still with his head lowered. Although it is customary to do so, he preferred to be on Sukuna's lap...

The man in front of him lets out a brief laugh, he needs to say; finds it pathetic to see [Name] kneeling. Maybe because he knows the human would rather be somewhere else right now, like in his lap, or because he remembers some moments when [Name] was in that exact position, but looking up at him...

"... Come here quickly, don't make me wait." He knew how to read [Name]'s mind so well.

It doesn't take long for [Name] to be on the other man's lap. Sukuna's hands slowly roamed over his smaller body, he had that typical smile on his face, the smile that [Name] loves so much. It's that sadistic smile, of someone who knows they have someone in their hands, and that they can do whatever they want with them.

"I love you-"

"I know."

No words are said after that, it wouldn't be necessary. Sukuna always knew everything [Name] thought. The human's short hair was caressed by the king of curses, in an almost obsessive way. All of Sukuna's actions had something more... And that was another thing [Name] loved.

He likes how the king of curses kisses him, how he runs his hands over his body, and how he makes a point of showing that he is the most special. And of course he is. He is the only one who can touch the four-armed man's body, he is the only one who can feel Sukuna's warm tongue inside his mouth, the only one who will always be by his side.

This isn't a romance, it's not cute at all. It is a purely feeling of adoration, possession and obsession that only [Name] has come to have with Sukuna. He would go to hell if it meant being with Sukuna forever, he is insane and nothing can change that.

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk sukuna #male reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ftm reader

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

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to keep me warm | m33

Description: After disappearing from public view - you return beside the man that's stood by you.

Pairing: max verstappen/singer!reader

(TURKS AND CAICOS, 2020)

"Dear." Max called out to you with a bottle of wine in his right hand. It was your anniversary. "I'm here!" you replied from the kitchen, slowly wiping the remnants of butter and dough on your apron. "What are you baking?" he leaned on the counter - placing the bottle there.

You opened one of the drawers, handing him the tool that would unscrew the wine. "Chocolate cake - your favorite." you smiled. Despite being a full-grown adult, his tastes were only limited to what kids like. "Nice, I can't wait." he opened the wine.

"Our anniversary and a brand new song. We deserve to get drunk tonight." he reached for the wine-glass, filling it halfway. "Sure, Maxim." your smile deepened, mixing the batter with love as the main ingredient.

Y/N L/N Was Terrified to Return Back in the Spotlight (Extended)

Interviewer: A lot of your fans thought that the hiatus was gonna be permanent. Did you read the tweets or was it?

Y/N L/N: No. It was full on, block everything about me on the internet. I did have a private account but all the tags about me were blocked out because I didn't wanna deal with me.

Interviewer: The allegations were quite rough. Did that take a blow on your mental health?

Y/N L/N: Yes, actually - I went to therapy for a few months. I moved to Morocco and I met a wonderful man - and we both lived somewhere remote and nice.

Interviewer: A man? Who is he? Someone we might know?

Y/N L/N: [chuckles] You've watched him before. He's lovely - European and competitive. He's the subject of my song. Well - one of the subjects.

Interviewer: Can I get another hint?

Y/N L/N: You've interviewed his teammate before.

Interviewer: He works in sports! So NFL, Soccer? You know what I don't want to ask too much questions - your publicist scares me.

"My baby's fit like a daydream, walking with his head down - I'm the one he's walking to." Max couldn't help but hum the tune of your song while walking through the Austrian GP tracks. "What are you singing?" one of the camera-mans that were following him asked.

He froze in his tracks.

"Is this live?" he removed his headphones, knowing that your song was yet to be released. "Yeah, anything wrong?" the man turned off his camera and he could feel the hot heat rising.

"Nah, we're fine mate." he lied.

maxverstappen1: My girl 💪🏽 #YNWorld

712 comments 723,821 likes

YNSTAN: I told ya'll first 😎

ynworld: nice pic - maxverstappen1: 🤣

maxielstan: Max Rizzstappen

ynworld: #1 Racer

0 comments 1,283,208 likes

comments have been restricted.

#max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #f1 fics #f1 #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

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falling is easy, catching is hard

rated m | also on ao3 cw: recreational drug use, implied sexual content tags: friends with benefits, secret relationship, shotgunning, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @sidekick-hero!!! Sandy, you deserve the world, but this 3000 word thing will have to do for now 💖

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

December 19, 1985

Steve Harrington needed sleep.

Eddie Munson had the only thing that would put him to sleep.

But Eddie Munson also held a grudge, a reasonable one, but an annoying one.

“You want me to sell you the last of my good shit? For half price?” Eddie snorted. “You’re out of your damn mind, Harrington.”

“Munson, please. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Steve begged.

“Why would I do you any favors? You never did me any.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, waiting somewhat impatiently for a response from Steve.

Steve didn’t have one.

Eddie was right; He didn’t really deserve a favor from someone who had let his friends make his first senior year absolutely miserable.

But Robin’s voice looped in his head: “Be vulnerable sometimes, Steve. People may surprise you.”

“Listen man, I just really need to sleep, alright? I’ve tried everything else.” Steve sighed. “This is pretty much my last hope.”

Which was a truth and a lie. He’d already tried smoking some weed, knew that it worked.

Eddie’s forehead creased in the middle.

That’s kinda cute, Steve thought to himself before shaking his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by big, brown eyes and shiny lips.

“You been to a doctor?” Eddie asked.

“The sleeping pills make them worse.”

“Make what worse?” Eddie pushed.

“The nightmares.”

Eddie nodded once, understanding flitting across his face as he relaxed his arms by his sides.

“How long you been havin’ them?” Eddie asked as he walked around to the bench at the picnic table, opening his lunchbox.

“I guess…technically years. They’ve been worse since July though.” Steve knew he had to be careful about what he said, couldn’t give away more than what the public knew about what happened at the mall, but Eddie seemed trustworthy enough to handle this part. “Doctors said it’s normal for trauma or whatever.”

Eddie nodded, whispered something under his breath, and shuffled through his box.

“Forgot you worked at the mall over the summer. Kinda crazy what happened,” he said as he pulled a small discolored plastic bag from the box. “I’ll make you a one-time only deal, Stevie.”

Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach at the nickname, kicked at the dirt under his feet, and gestured for Eddie to continue.

“I’m not giving my product away for half price. I’m a businessman and that’s not a smart financial decision for my business.” Eddie held up a hand when Steve looked like he was going to argue. “But! I will share a joint with you right here, right now, for free.”

“Um. What?”

“I was gonna smoke this one tonight as a celebration for passing all my first semester finals by the skin of my teeth. I don’t mind sharing if you don’t.” Eddie’s smirk made the butterflies even worse.

Steve was going to regret this.

God, he was so stupid.

“Yeah, okay.”

Smoking with Eddie the first time was nice, but the second, and third, and fourth times were even better.

— — — — — — —

January 16, 1986

“You’re late, Stevie. I was starting to worry you’d gotten frostbite.” Eddie’s smile warmed Steve from the inside out, the shiver wracking his body more to do with the growing fondness he had for the curly-haired man in front of him.

Eddie was bundled up like they were in Antarctica, and to be fair, it was below freezing outside right now.

Steve offered to meet somewhere else, but Eddie insisted they come to his usual spot.

And then Steve saw it: Eddie had built them a fire. It was small, he probably didn’t want to draw any attention from the road, but it was throwing heat that Steve craved.

“Come warm up before we get into it,” Eddie waved him over, his gloved hands looking out of place.

Steve was used to seeing shiny rings on his fingers, blisters on his fingertips from playing too much guitar.

Steve stood next to him in front of the fire, holding his own gloved hands out to try to warm his body as much as possible.

“Any reason I couldn’t just come to your house or something?” Steve asked, not quite getting rid of the attitude in his tone.

“My Uncle has tonight off. He’s a pretty chill guy, but I think actively watching me sell drugs to someone would maybe cause a heart attack.” Eddie sighed. “I told him I had a date tonight so I couldn’t really have you show up after that.”

“A date?” Steve grinned, nudging Eddie’s arm. “I didn’t even bring flowers.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but looked away to cover a blush. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put out until there’s a dozen roses in my hand.”

He meant it as a joke surely, but something in Steve’s chest clenched at the thought of spoiling Eddie like that. Maybe not roses, that didn’t quite seem his style.

“I’ll try to remember them next time,” Steve managed to say, nearly choking on his own words.

What was he even doing? Flirting? Eddie didn’t even consider him a real friend, why would he want him to bring him flowers?

“Got a new strain tonight. It’s supposed to be a little stronger, but fades faster, so you should be good to drive back home in a couple hours.” Eddie pulled the baggie out of his pocket, lunchbox long gone after meeting twice a week for the last month.

Steve wasn’t really a customer anymore, no matter how they tried to keep up appearances that he was.

He still tipped Eddie, or tried to, but usually Eddie ignored it and just said it was a favor to help him sleep.

“How strong?” Steve finally asked as Eddie pulled the lighter from his pocket.

“Might make you a little floatier than usual. Not hallucinogenic, though.” Eddie knew he couldn’t handle that kind of trip. That’s why he stayed away from his other offerings. “I tested it out myself earlier this week.”

Steve wasn’t reading into that.

“Okay.” He fought off a shiver, this time from actually being cold. “Guess it’s worth a try.”

“I’ll drive you home if it’s too much.” Eddie’s offer was kind, going above and beyond what a dealer would do for a customer, but Steve wasn’t reading into it. “Or you can nap it off in the van for an hour or so before heading home. Whatever.”

Eddie lit the joint, breathing in long and slow, holding the smoke until Steve was sure he would pass out before slowly letting it out.

He handed the roll to Steve, who didn’t think about what Eddie meant by stronger, and took his normal pull, choking halfway through.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he took the joint from him, his hand grabbing onto Steve’s arm as he coughed.

“Jesus Christ, man, you good?” Eddie asked him.

“Yeah,” he coughed. “Sorry. It is a lot stronger.”

Eddie searched his face, relaxing as Steve’s breathing went back to normal. “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe take it slower?” Eddie teased. “Or- no never mind.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, already feeling the heaviness that came with smoking.

“Ever shotgunned before?”

Steve’s heart stopped. He’d venture to say he was even stone cold sober again after that question.

“Um. No.” He hadn’t. He’d wanted to with Nancy, figured it would be the only way she would be interested in trying weed, but it never worked out. “Would it be easier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “Usually. We can give it a try if you want.”

Steve nodded before he really processed what he was being offered.

Eddie’s mouth would be very, very close to his. Possibly even on his.

And he’d be sharing breath with him, probably more than one if it worked.

Eddie pulled the picnic table closer to the fire and sat on the bench. He patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well get comfy, then,” Eddie said.

Steve sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth coming from his side, close enough to hear Eddie’s hitched breath when they made contact.

Close enough to want to be closer.

“Alright, so I’ll start with a small one, and you just have to breathe in when I breathe out.”

“Is it-” Steve played with a loose thread on his gloves. “Your lips are gonna touch mine?”

Eddie suddenly looked nervous, like he regretted offering this at all, and Steve couldn’t allow that.

“I don’t mind! I mean, I want you to!” Steve panicked. “Like, it’s fine! I know we have to for the whole thing to work.”

“Yeah. Um, it’s not like, weird or anything. It’s just me helping you get high.”

It wasn’t weird, but it definitely was hot.

Eddie took a drag, leaned into Steve’s space, and cupped his jaw, tilting his head back for easier access.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

But he had to, that was the whole fucking point of doing this.

His lips parted and Eddie’s warmth coated him, covered him better than the fire.

He breathed in as Eddie breathed out, his hand seeking contact with anything solid to keep him on this earth.

He found it in Eddie’s hip, his fingers gripping tight as Eddie lingered beyond the point of the smoke clearing from his mouth to Steve’s.

Their lips brushed lightly, an agonizingly soft touch that Steve tried his best not to chase as it drifted away.

He bit back a whine at the loss, opening his eyes to see Eddie still surprisingly close, pupils huge.

It’s just the weed, Steve thought to himself.

It definitely wasn’t their almost-kiss.

Steve breathed out, swallowing once the smoke was gone from his mouth.

“Good?” Eddie asked.

Steve should answer him, should nod and thank him for doing this, maybe ask him for another hit so he could try to blame his fidgeting on being high.

But Steve wanted to kiss him.

Not shotgun, not barely brush lips, not act like this wasn’t something more than what it started as.

Robin told him he deserved nice things, and he deserved to be happy, and he did.

So Steve let himself try to have a nice thing.

“Again?” Steve asked, leaning in before Eddie had a chance to take a drag.

“Woah, big boy.” Eddie’s hands grabbed his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him back from making contact that he so desperately wanted. “Think that first hit might have gotten to you already. Let’s take a minute.”

“No, I-”

“Steve. You’re high.”

His tone was final, and something about the way his eyes darted away made Steve think that maybe this wasn’t the first time someone tried to make a move on him because he was giving them something.

He didn’t know Steve was into men, either.

Steve could just tell him, though. Let him know it’s not just the drugs, that he’d already had feelings for him before.

But the high was kicking in and Steve’s tongue felt like an iron weight.

“How about I get you some water?” Eddie asked, pulling away and walking swiftly to his van.

Steve didn’t protest. He did need some water.

Eddie sat on the other side of the table when he came back, handed over a bottle of water with a small smile, and watched as Steve gulped most of it down.

“This is good shit,” Steve admitted, slurring his words a little from the effort of moving his mouth. “Better than usual.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice treat once in a while.”

They sat in silence for another 30 minutes or so, though the time didn’t even feel like it was passing to Steve until Eddie stood up and guided him to the passenger seat of his van.

“Wha-?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at home. You got someone who can help you get your car tomorrow?” Eddie buckled his seatbelt, Steve tried not to be too endeared. “Maybe Buckley? Or Wheeler?”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

Nancy had barely talked to him in months, not since she gave him one awkward hug after Starcourt. Robin couldn’t drive, or at least said she couldn’t. That’s why he drove her to school and all of her work shifts.

“Maybe you could?” Steve suggested.

Eddie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

— — — — — — —

February 14, 1986

Steve got him flowers.

He hadn’t seen him since the night he drove Steve home.

By the time Steve woke up the next morning, his car was parked in the driveway with a note on his keys that said ‘Promise there’s not a dent on her.’

And then Eddie had ignored his calls. He’d conveniently never been at his spot anytime Steve had ever met up with him before.

He couldn’t even pass a message through Dustin because Dustin was too curious for his own good and would probably figure out that Steve wanted to kiss him.

Which is all Steve thought about for the last month while he figured out what to do next.

Robin was no help at all, said he should just corner him after Hellfire one night and make a move if he wanted him so bad.

As if that could ever be an option.

This was his last chance, though.

He’d confirmed with one of his bandmates – Garrett, maybe? – that he didn’t have plans tonight and refused to sell on Valentine’s Day.

Steve stood in front of Eddie’s trailer, a bouquet of white and pink daisies in his hand, feeling particularly stupid.

The van was here, so Eddie was here, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk up the steps and knock on the door. This was maybe the most idiotic thing he’d ever done and he probably should leave before he was seen by someone.

“Steve?” Eddie opened the front door, confusion clear even from a distance. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I said I’d bring you flowers.”

He felt so dumb, standing here holding a bouquet of flowers for a guy who didn’t even want to sell drugs to him anymore. He considered dropping the flowers and making a run for it, but Eddie leaned against the door frame and scrunched his nose up.

Like he was trying not to smile.

Like maybe Steve did something right.

“Better bring them in so they can get water, then,” Eddie said with a hesitant smile.

Steve would take any type of smile, as long as it meant he wasn’t being sent away with his tail between his legs.

He rushed inside, didn’t think about the smell of Irish Spring coming off of Eddie, or the way his arm brushed against his side as he passed him.

Steve stood in Eddie’s trailer, taking in what Eddie called home, holding the flowers in front of him with hope.

Eddie closed the front door and walked over to him, holding his hand out.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers just for me to sell you drugs again, ya know.” Eddie smiled sadly. “I would have let you buy if you really needed it.”

“You won’t return my calls so how would you know if I needed it?” Steve countered.

“Ouch.” Eddie sucked a breath in through his teeth. “You’re right. I, uh, was giving you some space.”

“What made you think I wanted any?” Steve took the flowers back from Eddie’s hand, setting them on the coffee table behind him. “If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have bothered calling at all.”

“That’s what Wayne said, but-”

“Well, maybe you should’ve listened to Wayne.” Steve sighed. “I’m sorry I fucked things up by wanting to kiss you. I’m sorry if the flowers are too much. I’m sorry if I’m too much.”

Steve couldn’t look at Eddie after his confession, or his attempt at one. It may have been more of an apology, but he figured his intentions were clear enough.

“Steve. Stevie. Look at me.” Eddie cupped his cheeks, that familiar warmth covering Steve in safety. “You’re not too much. Don’t ever, ever let anyone tell you that you’re too much. You were so high, I didn’t wanna take advantage. I thought if I just left you to think about it long enough, you’d realize what happened was just from the weed.”

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands up to circle Eddie’s wrists. “It wasn’t just the weed. You’d know that if you let me talk to you before now.”

Eddie rubbed his thumb along his cheekbone, eyes dancing across the freckles that covered Steve’s surprisingly sun-kissed skin. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.”

“You’re forgiven if you listen now,” Steve took a breath, letting his hands run down Eddie’s arms and settle on his hips. “I like you. A lot. Definitely more than a customer should, more than a friend should, maybe more than a regular boyfriend should. It’s okay if that’s too much, but it’s what I have to give.”

“You’re really something, Stevie.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I think I’ll take what you’re giving if that’s alright with you.”

“Please,” Steve breathed out as Eddie’s lips crushed against his fully.

Steve always felt so much, always gave so much, hardly ever had anyone who would take what he had to give.

But Eddie was taking it, forcing it from Steve to his own body, his own heart, like it was the only thing he wanted or needed.

“If you wanna buy tonight, you’re gonna be real disappointed,” Eddie gasped out against his lips when they came up for air minutes, maybe hours, later. “I don’t sell on major holidays.”

“Is Valentine’s Day a major holiday?” Steve asked, brows furrowing.

“It is when I get to have you in my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“That sound okay to you, big boy?” Eddie was smooth. Who could have possibly guessed?

Steve barely got out a ‘yes’ before Eddie was pulling him down the short hallway to his bedroom and rattling off things he wanted to do to him.

Steve Harrington probably wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

But Eddie Munson would make it worth his while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic

651 notes · View notes

lazyjellyfish300 · 6 days

Text

Gentleman part 3 🌼💌

Geneticist CEO!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern College Student!Reader

Synopsis: your relationship with your new sugar daddy progresses, but meanwhile your jealous sorority members plot against you. Word count 5.5k

A/N: so I know at first the idea was to make this a situationship to lovers but I actually completely forgot about that lol so I'm just rolling with whatever this is that this has turned into. 🫶🏽🖤 This art by blahhberry on insta is Dr. O'Hara's face claim if you wanna see. ;)

TW: MINORS DNI, SUGGESTIVE, MASTURBATION ALLUDED TO BUT NO EXPLICIT SMUT YET (NEXT CHAPTER HEHE), SOME ANGST, LONELINESS, BULLYING, SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND ASSAULT (A GUY NEARLY GROPES YOU AND YOU GET PEER PRESSURED), BAD DRUNKEN BEHAVIOR, YOUR ROOMMATES SHOW THE WORST SIDES OF THEMSELVES, IT MIGHT BE KINDA TOUGH TO READ, TAKE CARE WITH THIS ONE IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE❤️ SUGAR DADDY RELATIONSHIP, (BOSS/EMPLOYEE) don't condone this IRL, maybe OOC Miguel, age gap (reader is somewhere around 24-27, Miguel is mid-late 30s), mild violence

Part 1, Part 2

-------

Once you got back to your dorm, you ran upstairs to your room, kicking off your shoes. You fixed your hair and held your bouquet, angling your phone for the best lighting and took a selfie, sending it to Miguel along with a quick text:

You: Thanks for the flowers. ❤️💐 You made my whole day!

A couple minutes later:

M❤️: You're very welcome. You look so beautiful. I hope you had a good day.

You: Thank you❤️❤️I did, a lot better thanks to you. 🥰

M❤️: I'm so glad.

You sat there, trying to think of what to say next.

You: So, when can I see you again? :)

M❤️: Well, my flight gets in Friday afternoon, however I will most likely spend the rest of the day with my daughter and my mother. Would Saturday work for you?

You smiled and texted back:

You: Saturday works perfectly! What did you have in mind?

Miguel smiled from his high up hotel room in Chicago, looking out the window and thinking for a moment, then typing back.

M❤️: How does going to the Hamptons sound? There's a waterfront restaurant that serves some of the best food on the East coast, and the views are lovely this time of year.

You smiled widely at this, appreciating that he came up with an actual date idea that sounded incredible and not just defaulting to whatever you wanted.

You: That sounds incredible! I'd love that. ☺️ Thank you so much. ❤️❤️

M❤️: You're welcome. Have you ever been to the Hamptons before?

You: I haven't, no.

M❤️: I will have Noir take you shopping this week.

A ding went off on your phone, and your mouth fell open. $500 was just sent to one of your money apps from Miguel.

M❤️: Use that wisely to pick out an outfit, or a few. You'll want to dress semi-warm, as it can get a little chilly in the evenings. But we'll only go for the day. I'll have you home at a reasonable hour so you can rest.

You just had to shake your head and bite your lip. This truly was the best thing ever.

You: You are seriously so sweet...thank you. ❤️Really, you didn't have to do that.

Miguel smiles, laying back on his hotel bed with a hand behind his head as he texts you back. You're so humble, it's adorable.

M❤️: You're very welcome. But, I insist. You deserve it for all your hard work and for what you've had to deal with lately. I hope it gives you a little something to look forward to this week. ❤️

You can't help but kick your feet at his message.

You: I sure do, I'll be counting down the days. ❤️

Miguel stood up, a little smirk playing on his lips. Man, it felt good to have a special lady in his life again. But, he had more business to get to first. And he knew he couldn't rush this. He did have hopes that this would become something more serious than just a sugar relationship.

Still, he had to ride that fine line between building something longer lasting, without creating friction between you both at his hang-up when it came to the institution of marriage. That almost always ended up being the reliable nail in the coffin for his previous flames. But that was a future problem to worry about.

M❤️: What are your plans this evening?

You sat up, chewing your lip at the sight of your backpack, knowing you should probably get a head start on the ample workload you were issued by your microbiology and health science professors.

You: Just homework for the most part. 😮‍💨 I have soo much this week.

M❤️: I'm sorry to hear that, cariño. The sooner you get to it, the sooner you can rest. ❤️

Your heart fluttered a little.

You: Miguel, what does cariño mean?

M❤️: It's a term of endearment, such as sweetheart or dear. Is it alright if I call you that?

You bite your lip and feel a heat in your cheeks coming on.

You: Absolutely, I love it when you do. It makes me feel special.❤️

M❤️: You should feel special, cariño. Because you are, very special to me... ❤️ Did you eat dinner?

A grumble in your stomach answered his question for you.

You: No, haha... Not yet.

Miguel pauses, dialing Noir while he stands up, crossing the room, trying to secure a pair of cufflinks onto his dress shirt as he reaches for his suit coat that's hanging from the coat rack by a large TV.

After he hangs up, he texts you again while checking his reflection before he leaves.

M❤️: Noir is bringing you dinner. Please text him and let him know what you'd like as soon as you can, okay? I will also have him grab groceries for you tomorrow. Be sure to also send him a list of things you need when you get the chance.

Your heart swells with gratitude and your mouth waters as you envision your favorite pizza from your favorite local joint which sounds perfect right about now. This might have been the most you ate in weeks, as a matter of fact, all thanks to this angel of a man.

You: Thank you sooo sooo much Miguel 😭❤️

M❤️: You're very welcome, cariño, just want to make sure my girl doesn't go hungry. ❤️ I have to go to a business dinner right now, so I won't be able to answer any texts until later. When you're done with your studies, give me a call?

You: Okay, I will. ❤️

M❤️: Good. ❤️ Talk to you soon.

-----

Noir was on your doorstep a short time later with your pipping hot, favorite pizza, a side order of some gooey, cheesy garlic breadsticks, a side salad, a huge bottled water to keep you hydrated, a brand new luxurious fluffy blanket in your favorite color, matching fuzzy socks with your initials, a pumpkin vanilla scented candle, and fancy moisturizer that wouldn't irritate your skin.

"Here you are, madam. The doctor wanted to throw these in as well, since it gets drafty up here in the dorms, and since you deserved a little something to pamper yourself."

"Oh my God, thank you sooo much, Noir!!" you gushed.

Noir noticed the snide looks coming from your bitter roommates as he handed you your food and presents, but he decided not to say anything about it right now. "Can I get you anything else tonight?"

"Oh, no, no, that's okay Noir...thank you, you're the best."

"Course, it's my absolute pleasure to serve you ma'am. The doctor has totally changed my life and given me everything I could ask for, so working for him and making sure his woman is taken care of is the least I can do to pay him back." Noir says with a bow. He tips the brim of his black fedora.

"Enjoy, madam. I'll be here for you at 7:30 am tomorrow morning, be sure to write up your grocery list, too, you hear?"

You nod and smile and thank him enthusiastically again, walking quickly back upstairs to your room, trying to ignore the hateful stares of your bitter roommates.

------

Heather shakes her head as she waits for her lean cuisine to finish heating in the microwave. "Y'all, I do not fucking get it. At all."

"Me neither," Vivian scoffs, taking a bite of her salad at the table next to Isla.

"I give it a month, tops." Heather replies, opening the microwave.

Isla is staring off when an idea comes to her. "Why wait a month?"

"Huh?" The other two look at her with curious stares.

"Seriously, do we really wanna let this get worse than it already has?" Isla asks.

The other two shake their heads, remembering all the extra labs they had to do that Dr. O'Hara issued them, no doubt as punishment for messing with his woman.

"She's gotta go." Vivian agrees.

"But how?" Heather asks. "She's literally fucking the boss. He's not gonna break up with her so easily..."

Isla smirks. "But the university might if she makes a fool of herself at the football game."

----

As you worked on your homework, you looked at your closed door at the sound of your roommates laughing hysterically behind it, half slightly peeved by the loud noises while you were trying to work, half feeling that nagging loneliness you felt in your heart.

The truth was, even though the trio drove you nuts and could be quite mean, you don't know why, but you still cared about their approval. All you wanted was peace between you four while you shared the space. Deep down, you felt left out and sad at their exclusion of you. You knew you could be quiet and awkward, at times, but you missed having girlfriends.

Getting ready to go out on Friday nights, doing your makeup while crowded around a smudged mirror in your jammies while one of the girls played music on their phones, talking excitedly about the night ahead and complaining about the boys you were talking to. Sharing clothes, studying together, slumber parties, talking about things that would be considered TMI with anyone else. Girlhood.

You just wanted to belong. Just wanted someone to talk to and have your back. Sure, you had Miguel now, but you needed space for friends too. You were starting to get worried at how much you craved the sound of his voice and his company. How much you started to rely on him mentally and emotionally. You knew he was a busy man and he could only be there for you so much.

Suddenly you're a little girl again on the playground during recess, wondering why nobody wanted to be your friend. Wondering why you weren't interesting enough or why you were so weird that you couldn't make people stay.

You felt a lump build up in your throat as you tried to work in the darkness of your room while they laughed together outside, holding back tears.

---

A quiet knock comes at your door and you clear your throat, trying to dry your eyes. "C-come in!"

The trio enters your room. Isla's eyes land momentarily on the new bouquet of flowers sitting on your desk but move quickly back to you. "Hey girl."

The other two sit on your bed.

"Are you crying?" Heather asks in a concerned tone.

"N-No..." You sniffle.

"Aw, girl..." Vivian pouts, putting a soft hand on your shoulder.

Your lip trembles as you try to fight off your tears unsuccessfully.

"Hey, we were hard on you, and we wanna apologize." Isla says, plopping down on your bed, the others hum in agreement.

"Come to the football game with us tomorrow night!" Vivian says, piping up. "It'll be fun."

"Yeah we can start over, have some girl time. A couple of our guy friends are coming too! It'll be chill. And we're getting milkshakes afterwards at Caddy's diner like we always do." Heather says with a smile.

"Please?" Isla asks, giving you a grin. "Whaddya say?"

"O-o-okay..." You manage a weak smile. "Thank you guys...I, I don't want us to fight either, *sniff* and I'm so sorry if rubbed any of you the wrong way about anything or offended you."

"Of course not!" Isla says with a wave of her hand. "Seriously, I mean, look, if you're dating Dr. O'Hara, good for you. Get that bag girl." She utters the last sentence with some difficulty, but her tone remains light and friendly, you don't notice. She flashes her lovely smile at you. "We'll get ready in Vivian's room around 4, then we gotta be ready to leave by 6."

"I have a really really cute shirt you can wear!" Heather offers.

"Um, who's all coming?" You ask, sitting up.

"It's us, you, then Heather's boyfriend Chase, and Chase's friends: Jaden, Alex, and I think his name is Will? Yeah, Will." Vivian says with a smirk.

"He's so hot..." Isla says biting her lip.

"Girl, he is your ex's cousin, sit down!" Heather throws a pillow at Isla.

"Oh my goddd let me liveee, dammit!" Isla giggles throwing it back, the pillow hitting you in the face on accident. "Oops! My bad girl I'm so sorry!" Isla pulls you into a hug, catching you off guard as Sexy Angel perfume from Victoria's Secret assaults your nostrils as she hugs you.

"Okay, anyway, see you tomorrow girl. Remember, 4pm, my room!" Vivian points at you as she follows Heather and Isla out, shutting the door behind her.

You feel a little uneasy but you feel the most hope you've felt in weeks after all the tension. Finally, maybe you could be chill with your roommates, and even make some new friends.

------

Miguel waves his room key in front of his lavish hotel room door, entering it with a sigh as he loosens his tie. He smiles widely at the incoming call from you on his phone.

"Hey," he says with a smile. You can hear the warmness in his voice from over the phone, the sound alone causing you to feel tingles all throughout your body.

"Hi, Miguel." You say with a smile, laying back on your pillow.

"How was your day, did you get all your work done?"

"Yee-up." You say, popping the "p" at the end of your sentence.

"Good girl."

Oh God, that was hot.

"How was your day, Miguel?" You ask him, trying to keep the conversation flowing and give you something to focus on other than his tantalizing voice.

"My day wasn't bad." He admits. He starts to unbutton his shirt, putting the phone on speaker.

"Just had a productive chat with a few stakeholders about some investments. I admit, I'm not one for social events." He chuckles.

The corner of your mouth twitches. "Haha, me neither. Guess we have that in common."

"Guess we do." Miguel agrees with a hum.

You smile, fiddling with one of your hoodie strings as you continue to talk to him, "Well, the trio invited me to a football game tomorrow night."

"Oh?" Miguel slips out of his pants and lies down in bed with a small grunt of relief. "I thought you four didn't get along?"

"I thought we didn't either." You admit. "But they apologized and invited me. They admitted they don't mind my relationship with you and wanted to start over fresh."

Miguel nods slowly, feeling a little suspicious about this. He's seen how ugly people can be to one another, particularly if the nasty feeling of jealousy is involved, taking nothing off the table of the lengths someone would go to get what they wanted.

"Just, be careful, cariño. I don't want to see you hurt. If they treat you poorly again, you're to tell me immediately, understood?"

"I'll be okay, promise." You try and reassure him, but Miguel doesn't feel too convinced.

"I trust you, cariño. I'm just not sure I trust them." He tells you gently. "You deserve good friends who are supportive and lift you up, not tear you down." His eyes fill with compassion as he speaks to you on the phone, a little astounded at how you manage to tug at his heart strings even hundreds of miles away, a feeling of needing to protect you and make sure you were safe, even if he couldn't physically be there.

"Would you let me have Noir drive you? You're welcome to invite your friends to ride with. I'll just feel much better about it if he's there to keep an eye on things."

You hesitate, but think about it. This might be a good way to get on the trio's good side, if you can let them into your new world of luxury a little bit. It kind of felt wrong to use Dr. O'Hara's wealth to win the favor of your roommates. But he was offering, and you'd do anything to improve your living situation at this point.

"Okay...yeah, that works." You answer. "I'll tell them he can drop us off and pick us up. Thank you, Miguel."

"You're welcome, cariño." Miguel says quietly with a smile. "Have fun tomorrow, and be safe okay? Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself."

"I will, I will." You say with a smile, brushing him off.

There's silence on the other line for some time before Miguel speaks again.

"Well, I wanted to talk some more tonight, because there's still a lot that I don't know about you yet."

You sit up a little in bed, "Y-yeah, of course...ask away."

He asks a few questions about your family and your childhood and you answer them honestly, finding yourself turning into an open book as you give him your life story, telling him all about your parents and siblings, your theories about why your upbringing may have effected your personality and so on.

And he listens quietly and intently, all of his attention undivided and owned by you completely in this moment. A small feeling endears himself closer and closer to you with every word you speak. You're so enriched with everything you have to say. You're insightful and intelligent and interesting. You doubt yourself. You're a pure soul who seems to feel lonely sometimes like he does, empathizing for how difficult it can be to relate to others and how the weight of becoming an adult and trying to support yourself through school was much more staggering than you expected.

You're a selfless, kind woman who would even give away the last of what she had to a man like him who had the world at his disposal, reaffirming that his choice to make you his was a resoundingly wise one.

A match between you two that was even more well suited for one another than he anticipated. Nevermind the difference in your ages, nevermind that you were originally an employee. There's something special here that he underestimated. It's jarring and it's refreshing.

It's eerily perfect, even causing himself to re-evaluate his wishes from the beginning to not even think about brushing shoulders with the question of matrimony. He's dizzy with all of these sudden epiphanies he's experiencing within just a hour or two of talking to you on the phone. Then, you say something that causes you to laugh loudly.

Miguel feels a warm feeling in his body at the sound of your laugh. It's infectious and hearty. And he'd be lying if he said the dimming lights of the city outside his hotel room and the sound of your voice weren't making him feel...a little needy by this point.

What, with how physically attracted he already found himself to you in the beginning, now you've revealed the contents of your soul to him and in turn demonstrated you're nothing like anyone else he's been involved with in the past. It was too easy not to find himself agonizingly tempted by simple desires. He's only a man.

"What are you up to this evening, my dear?" He asks in that rich voice of his.

"Just laying in bed..." You say, stifling a yawn.

Miguel hums. You bite your lip. Something about his voice had you missing him. You just poured out your heart to him, pulling yourself closer and closer to him with every layer of yourself that you stripped away and revealed to him. You find yourself comfortable with him, desiring him more than you already had, maybe even letting you toy with the idea of putting a more intimate physical relationship back on the table, knowing that Dr. O'Hara was the kind of honorable man he was. You'd love to give yourself to someone like him.

The sun was well below the horizon at this point, the darkness going straight to your head and traveling in a more sensual, suggestive direction.

"...and missing you..." You add with a little smirk.

"Mmm..." Miguel sighs.

Oh boy.

"Yo tambien te extraño..." (I missed you too) His voice is dripping with something suggestive, almost sly.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathlessly, playing with your necklace pendant.

Miguel smiles. "Means I've missed you too..."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm...."

"Mmm..."

"You teasing me, cariño?"

"Teasing you?" You bite your lip. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Careful..."

"What?"

"Heh...well..." Miguel looks around, despite being the only soul in his hotel room. "You're making me feel a certain way."

"Like what?" You bat your eyes innocently.

"Don't play coy." Miguel says firmly. "Like..." he sighs. "You're making me feel like I want to break those damn rules in the contract."

You relax your shoulders and exhale deeply out, the ache between your legs only growing more and more demanding. You really wanted it to continue, "I don't mind..."

"I'm serious, cariño." Miguel warns. "I'm not going against any boundaries we set together. Not unless you're completely sure..."

"I'm sure..." You whisper quietly to him, a faint groan rolling off your tongue as you draw out the last syllable.

"Ay por Dios..." (Oh my God) Miguel chuckles, turning red and biting his lip, hundreds of miles away. "Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?"

"Maybe..." You tease, enjoying this effect you're having on him.

"Not tonight, baby..." Miguel says gently. "Not tonight..."

"Miguel..." You whine, your body still hungry, begging for some form of release, your desire hanging untapped, parched for his loving attention, the low timbre of his voice driving you mad.

"I wish you were here with me..."

"Oh cariño..." he groans, unable to disguise his mutual craving. "I wanna be there too..." He slowly licks his full lips. "I'll make it up to you, baby."

"Yeah?" You whisper.

"I swear." He promises you. "It needs to be special and perfect the next time we're together. We'll take our time but I won't hold back as long as you're completely comfortable and okay with it."

You giggle, biting your cheek and clenching at the thought. "I definitely am..."

"Beautiful..." He murmurs. "You've given me something else to look forward to all week."

"I don't think I can wait that long..." You say breathlessly.

"I don't think I can either." Miguel admits, letting out a chuckle of his own. "Oh....the things you do to me. You've no idea, cariño. Get some sleep now, yeah?"

As soon as you hung up you both fucked yourselves to oblivion in your separate beds, minds completely drunk with only thoughts of the other hundreds of miles away.

-----

You're all smiles as Noir picks you up the next day, barely able to function during work, only thinking about Miguel and the fun night you have planned with your girlfriends at the college football game as you sip your large iced coffee and munch on your heated pastry Noir bought you that morning, courtesy of Miguel's Platinum American Express.

Your heart does flip flops when you find your newest surprise from him in the backseat of the car after work: a Pandora bag with shimmery tissue paper and a lavender bow, eyes widening when you pull out a gorgeous white gold charm bracelet, complete with a crystal heart dangling from it with a note from Miguel.

Can't let those boys at the football game think that you're not taken. ❤️ Be safe tonight, and I'll see you very soon. Thank you for being so open with me last night. I love where this is going. Call me later.

You haven't left my mind once since the day I met you.

Love, Miguel

------

"Nuh uh!!! No freaking way!!" Heather, Vivian, and Isla squeal as they run towards the Mercedes, hand in hand while Noir held the door open for them with a humble smile.

"I always wanted to ride in a G wagon..." Heather's eyes dart around the interior, feeling the leather seats as though she needed to physically touch them to believe they were real.

"Ladies." Noir says as he comes to the door, holding a box of large, gourmet cookies nearly as big as your hand with frosting that matched your college's spirit colors, along with elegant glass bottles of sparkling lemonade. "A little game day treat for you from the doctor."

Your face erupted into a grateful smile as your friends gushed and raved about the snacks, relishing the bite of the warm chocolate chip cookie that practically melted in your mouth and the refreshing lemonade that left a little fizz behind on your tongue. Miguel was so damn thoughtful.

Once you arrive at the game, Noir helps all of you out of the car. "Anything else you need, miss?" Noir asks you as he shuts the door.

"Um, no, I should be good. Thanks Noir!"

"You're welcome. I'll be waiting out front for your entourage when the game is over. Have a good time, miss. Call me if you need anything."

You smile and turn, jogging to catch up to the others. Noir nods and drives off, parking the car only a short distance away in Miguel's designated VIP parking spot in the front row of the stadium parking lot, hanging a special tag in the window.

Noir gets out, pulling his collar of his trench coat little higher up on his neck in a semi-incognito fashion. You don't know he'll be watching you, and he feels a little bad about that, but, at the same time, he can't say no to the boss. He had good reason to keep an eye on you anyway. Your friends seemed too good to be true, and he had kind of a bad feeling about tonight, their jealousy at not being chosen by Dr. O'Hara rendering them blind.

As you find your seats, you're sat in between Isla and Will, a friend of Heather's boyfriend, Chase. Will is tall and muscular, a lacrosse player according to Isla. His green eyes lock onto you immediately, a fact not gone unnoticed to Isla's dismay and simmering jealousy. First Dr. O'Hara and now Will? What on Earth was so special about you?

Will keeps trying to make small talk with you. You try to discourage him with one word answers but he doesn't seem to get the hint, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders when he notices you shivering with the dropping temperature in the stadium. You immediately thought of Miguel but you were utterly freezing, so you decided to accept the gesture for now, praying that he'd take it as platonic.

Isla seeths quietly when she watches him give you his jacket. Time to put her idea into motion.

"Hey!" She smacks Heather who's getting handsy with Chase on the other side of her, handing her a bottle of vodka. You feel your blood run cold. There were strict no alcohol rules in the college stadium. The consequences ranged from ejection from the game to as severe as possession charges, intoxication, or even explusion from the university.

Heather giggles and takes the bottle, looking around and taking a generous shot before passing it to Chase, who passes it to Vivian and the other two guys before it travels back to Isla. She takes a shot, throwing her head back and wincing as she hands you the bottle.

"N-No thanks." You push the bottle back towards here.

"Dude," she hisses. "Come on, don't be a little bitch."

Will interrupts, taking the bottle from her and taking a shot, shooting you a playful wink. "Don't be shy."

You feel your cheeks get warm under his gaze, Miguel's face coming to your mind again and immediately shaking your head. "No...no thank you."

"C'mon." Will smirks. "Cute girl like you doesn't like to have some fun?"

Isla's face is boiling but it melts into a cheesy grin when you turn back to face her. "Right? She's just adorable huh? Little goody two shoes we like to call her." She elbows you playfully.

You're getting quite uncomfortable at this point, your eyes searching nervously all around the stadium, trying to make sure nobody around was catching wind of what your group was doing.

"We all took a shot, now you have to!" Vivian leans over, shaking your knee. She starts chanting your name in a sort of taunt. The guys quickly hopping on the band wagon, hooting and egging you on.

You're a nervous wreck, just wanting them all to shut up before all of you get kicked out of the university for good, starting to shiver nervously as a couple people nearby you turn around to see what all the commotion was.

"OKAY!" you snatch the bottle from Isla, bending over and sliding off your seat, taking a quick shot with your head down. You wince and cough uncontrollably as your erratic movements caused some of the alcohol to go down the wrong pipe, wheezing for a moment as the liquor stings and burns down your throat and lungs.

"There ya go, good job." Will pats your back and offers you a sip of his soda to chase it down. You grab it from him, taking several generous gulps without thinking, nearly sputtering again when you discover it's not just soda, but a really strong mixed drink.

Oh no.

Will smirks. "Well damn, girl. Slow down."

You feel your eyes watering up, starting to stumble a little. You hardly drank, so you had absolutely no tolerance, the alcohol flowing and dragging you down like dead weight in the water, a fuzzy feeling in your veins and the outside starting to get real shifty.

You can't make out much of what's going on around you but it sounds like Isla and the girls are taunting you again and making jokes at your expense, trying to dare you to flash your tits to the guys.

"C'mon girl, no balls you won't do it!" Heather and Vivian taunt, the guys around you looking at you like fresh meat.

You're utterly sick and confused and drunk, wanting nothing but Miguel to come in and sweep you away from this madness. Confused why your supposed friends were throwing you on display like some sort of sick circus act, expecting you to act like a slut just to appease their disgusting guy friends.

"S-stop..." You slur, falling backwards as Isla grabs at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it up.

"Don't worry, I got you." Will mumbles. You stare up at him in horror and cringe as you smell the strong stench of alcohol on his breath as he's practically putting you in a headlock, one of his hands tries to grope your clothed breasts.

"N-No!" You whine.."Please!"

Will is suddenly yanked backwards. Noir flips him so Will is facing him before he utterly decks him in the nose, Will letting out an inhuman noise as he falls to the ground. Noir looks at him like he's scum on the bottom of his shoe before landing a nice kick into the middle of his stomach. Will lets out a large grunt, wheezing pathetically on the stadium floor.

By now, everyone's looking at you. You're disheveled and terrified with your clothes askew. Noir wraps you in his arms, scooping you up like you weigh nothing.

"You alright, doll face?" His eyes search you with worry.

You don't answer, just whimper with a trembling lip, shaking your head no as you hang your head in shame, resting your forehead against his chest as you shudder with a sob.

Noir shoots a glare at your group of so called friends. "You will be dealt with accordingly," He threatens with a growl before getting you out of there.

The stadium police come swarming, ignoring Noir because they recognize him as one of the assistants of the most powerful man in Nueva York (and the university's top donor). They surround the group, pulling the girls out of their seats and putting Will in handcuffs before ejecting the rest of them from the game.

-----

Noir tucks you in the backseat of the Mercedes, giving a soft pat to your hair and several murmured apologies as he speeds quickly away. He dials Miguel, and you can hear Miguel's enraged voice booming through the speakers.

"Bring her to the estate immediately. I'll meet you there."

"Yes boss."

"I need the first and last names of EVERYONE involved in this fucking mess."

"Y-yes boss. Don't worry. Campus police are aware and they're handling it as we speak."

"Not good enough!" Miguel hisses. I will be handling this now."

"Yes, doctor, understood."

"Get her to me safely, Noir."

"I will, doctor."

"Thank you."

Noir hangs up, taking a deep breath.

Those people picked the wrong man to fuck with this time. Miguel would make them pay for what they did to you.

"I feel sick..." you groan.

"Hold on, madam....it's alright, we're almost there." Noir eyes the speedometer as it's pushing 110 miles per hour, the countryside zipping past the windows in what seems like mere light seconds.

You whimper and hold your head in your hands, trying so hard not to vomit as Noir drives furiously towards Miguel's mansion in the countryside.

----

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