#when i tell you i was sitting there for the entire 7 hour train ride going 'i could be watching op right now' i MEAN IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourbestpalpercy · 1 month

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“Wh-What? Who would–?” Everest stopped, the look in Tartar’s eyes changed as well. They both had an idea who stole the book from right under Tartar’s horn.

“The stingray…?”

“The stingray…” Tartar’s voice oozed with hatred, “I’m going to make a coat out of that stingray!” Tartar slammed its fist into the palm of its hand.

“Let me go get them. I’ll make sure they pay!” Everest said, sitting up quickly in bed.

“No. Not happening, Everest. I’ll go out and get her myself. I have a disguise, you do not.”

“I-I was fine, the first time! Dad, please, let me prove myself to you,” Everest crawled out of bed, carefully removing the blood drip, “I will find that stingray and deliver them to you.”

Tartar only stared at Everest silently before shaking his head and turning away, “It’s too risky. At least if I’m captured, they’ll only deactivate me. It won’t be a huge panic if I’m discovered. …You can take my place as the boss of this company if I disappear…” Tartar didn’t let Everest speak a word as he strided out of the room and the Deep Sea Metro entirely.

Everest stood there and only sighed softly. “...I’ll prove myself to you.”

Everest left the room and rubbed where the needle was, noticing how the ache rubbed away faster than expected. The surrounding octarians looked worried by Everest’s coldness.

“Where is my golf club?” Everest started to tear up the room searching for her golf club. No way she was going out in those damn streets without it. So many- too many spawn of the leviathan could be wandering those streets at these hours. Everest would never go back out there unprotected. There were too many things that were pokey or poisonous or dangerous in that crowd when she first entered Inkopolis. Too many things in that concert crowd. It was a miracle that she got through it without getting hurt!

Not that Everest would go out onto the world above during the day without a disguise either!

If Everest remembered correctly, about a month ago, some…some creature had apparently made a stir that humanity was coming back. Everest had heard all about it from Tartar who even asked if Everest had been going outside against his rules. Everest brought up the cameras to Tartar pretty quickly and when they went to check, it found the closest Everest had gotten to going outside the metro was leaving the labs to do tests at ungodly hours to “prove herself”. Yeah, Tartar still got after her for that. It even gave CQ a message to not take Everest to any station/test hours 10pm-7am.

Admittedly though, that was the only thing CQ was willing to do for Everest even if it was against Tartar’s rule. “Just don’t rat me out to him, got it? And get back before 7 because it will be riding the trains to the many tests to make sure I’m not breaking the rules! Tartar did that last night!” So Everest had to give credit where credit was due.

Finally, as Everest checked under her bed for her golf club, she found it, tangled up in sheets and random objects as if Tartar was trying to hide it from her. …Did he predict that Everest would try to help him find his journal? Tartar had to have, Everest would never put her golf club in such a hidden place.

Oh well, Everest supposed. She had her golf club now and that meant she was now safe to leave the metro and help Tartar.

Everest stood at the exit to the Kamabo Labs and very quickly picked up on the octarians seemingly trying to tell her to not go out. Everest looked back at them, all 20-30 of them and shook her head. …Everest was born and named to lead so…

“Octarians!” Everest had seen and heard Tartar do this a million times, “If Commander Tartar, my father and guardian, is to return, do not tell him where I’ve truly gone. Simply tell him I’m doing tests. Do not let him try to find me, simply try to convince him I’m doing tests…if the truth does so happen to slip…” Everest stared at her golf club, “Tell him I’ll be okay. I promise him that nothing will happen to me. Tell him I’ve gone to prove myself.”

With that, Everest climbed up the stairs and left the labs.

Everest heaved slightly as she hauled August’s body slowly back to the labs. Honestly, she felt like she was dragging a corpse around. August was so, so, SO damn heavy…! Though, August’s weight might’ve been a little less noticeable if Everest wasn’t also carrying Tartar’s journal in her other hand. Tartar’s journal was also rather heavy

Speaking of, where was Tartar? Everest hadn’t seen them around the metro or on the train back here. Everest hadn’t spotted Tartar anywhere actually. ‘...That’s concerning…Tartar should’ve been back by now…’ Everest’s thoughts spun around her head, trying to come up with logical reasons why her guardian hadn’t returned yet.

Everest looked down the platform before shaking her head and focusing back on August.

Everest opened the hatch to the Kamabo Labs and tossed August down the few stairs there was, causing a soft *poomf* to be heard as August hit the ground. “7!! May even-! I need a cell for this one!” Everest nudged August’s body with her foot. Their body was already turning white to match their surroundings, causing Everest to scoff.

Everest stepped over August’s body and stared at the journal she now held. Part of her wanted to snoop and look inside. Even a small peek into the past of humanity would suffice but part of Everest figured she wouldn’t get a lot of very useful information that Tartar could already tell her.

Everest walked into Tartar’s room and placed the notebook where it should go on its desk and walked back out of the room, carefully closing the door behind her. It only took Everest 30 minutes tops to find August so either her guardian was terrible at searching or it had decided to search another day and were now at the store, getting food for Everest and the few octarians still down here in the labs.

…

Unfortunately, the answer would show up on the platform just 2 weeks and a half later, around when Everest started not sleeping at all and overworking herself on tests from the anxieties about her father’s whereabouts.

Everest had left the labs to try to get her worries focused more on doing tests. Doing at least 1 or 2 tests late at night after a nightmare or worrisome day always settled her nerves and calmed her back into a state where she’d be able to fall back asleep.

…And there stood Commander Tartar, mopping up the main platform.

Everest almost didn’t recognize them, they weren't wearing their normal outfit. They were wearing a janitor’s jacket tonight and wearing different boots. They still had their hat though, but, then again, did that really matter? Everest figured there was only one telephone android that would be down here so this had to be her guardian.

“...Tartar?” Everest croaked out and slightly reached out to it. She let her golf club fall to her side. Her guard dropped as well.

The android before her flinched and raised his head before he looked back at Everest. And…h looked confused as if he…didn’t recognize her. There wasn’t that flicker in his eyes that Tartar always had when around Everest. That flicker of pride was all gone, replaced by a look of bewilderment, followed by the android dropping the mop he was using to clean. It was like Tartar seeing Everest’s human self all over again. Except he wasn’t as excited as he was the first time. More…nervous and possibly scared this time!

“Uhh…” They stepped back a little but didn’t say anything else.

“Tartar- Dad-! Wh-Where have you been for the last week and a half!?” Everest stepped forward, laying her golf club on the ground.

“Uh…I’ve…been cleaning the metro. It’s my job? …Cleaning the Deep Sea Metro,” The android still sounded like her guardian. It must’ve been playing a joke of sorts on Everest. Guardians, usually fathers, do that, don’t they?

“Ha! F-Funny joke, dad,” Everest scoffed out a laugh, just waiting for Tartar to burst into that familiar laugh. The one he did when Everest said something dumb or when he successfully did anything. Deep down though, she felt like that laugh was never going to happen. Everest felt like things…were going to be very different past tonight. Everest kept approaching though.

“I…told a joke? When? And uh…dad?? Robots can’t have children and I know I haven’t adopted any…” Tartar trailed off, picking their mop back up finally, dipping it into their bucket to clean it and continuing to mop the area.

“Dad, do you not remember me? Like-...really don’t remember me?” Everest stepped forward again, “Tartar, why don’t you recognize me? I’m your daughter! I’m the human you’ve been so proud of ever since her arrival down here! G-Go on! Just laugh already! Tell me that you were just playing a funny joke! Just a little prank!” Everest couldn’t hide her desperation, “M-My name is Everest! Everest…I don’t have a last name…”

Tartar shook its head, “I don’t recognize you, no, I never had a daughter. A-And please stop calling me Tartar, please. I know we look similar but my name is Operator.”

…

Just like that, Everest felt that her whole world was torn apart. It felt like one of those terrible, terrible creatures outside just tore her entire inner self out and threw it out onto the platform for everyone to see all the horrible stuff inside of her.

…

“Who did this to you?” Everest’s voice was cold, completely dead. Her worried eyes became just as cold as the ice of the mountains.

“U-Uhhhh…what do you mean?”

“Who wiped your memories!? You know what I meant!” Everest shouted, stomping her foot down. Operator squealed and covered his head instinctively.

“N-No one wiped my memories–! I-I swear!!” Operator quickly curled up. Green tears started to fall from their eyes which looked an awful lot like sanitized ink. Everest shoved the guilt she felt deep down into herself so not even she knew it was there.

‘Pathetic. My father, Commander Tartar themself, crying like a child right before the daughter he can’t remember! I’m going to kill whoever did this to him and then I’ll change Tartar back myself! I’ll make him remember me. I’ll make him remember his plans for Inkopolis. Whether he wants to or not.’

“Yes they did! Hack up their names now! Who made you like this!?” Everest now stood over Operator, brandishing her golf club in the most threatening way she could.

“M-Marina and Pearl! They b-built me together–! Just leave me alone- I’m just a janitor!!” Operator’s sobs grew louder as a puddle of sanitized, inky tears formed around them. “Y-You can talk t-to my boss, CQ if you have any complaints but not me! I barely know a thing about Tartar o-or your current issue!” Operator kept heaving and sniffling.

“That slimy sea slug is not your boss! You are literally your own boss! You run Kamabo Co! The logo of which is on your hat!” Everest snatched Operator’s hat from it and aggressively pointed at said logo before throwing its hat back at Operator as hard as she could.

‘Wait…how long has Operator even been here for? Wh-Why didn’t CQ tell me anything!? This feels pretty fucking important CQ!’ Everest’s own thoughts shouted, managing to be louder than the rest of the whirlpool of cacophony swirling around in her head.

Operator kept quivering and sobbing softly as he did. He was absolutely distraught. Everest’s nose upturned with disgust again before she got out her CQ-80 and pulled up the Deep Sea Metro map. What tests did she still have left over, hm?

…Of course. Line A02. That stupid Rainmaker test. Everest remembered how Tartar actually had to command the octarians to go easy on Everest on her 5th attempt because Everest was getting frustrated with how stuck she was getting in the sanitized ink, leaving her open to getting absolutely rained on! …Even though it was just 5 octarians. Well, it looked like just 5 octarians but it sure as hell felt like way more!

As the train pulled in, Operator slowly started to wipe their tears and stand back up. Everest looked back at them with a frown, “I want you to know,” Operator flinched when Everest started to talk to them again, “Marina and Pearl didn’t build you. I hadn’t expected them to be such dirty liars but if you want proof,” Everest pointed at the hatch to the Kamabo Co. Labs, “Look inside your old journal,” Everest stepped into the train, “If you even remember it.”

Operator watched with a disheartened look on its face as the doors to the train closed and pulled out of the station.

CQ was there mumbling something under his breath as he moved up and down the main cart. When he turned around, his lack of eyes met Everest’s amber eyes. He scrambled to clear his lack of a throat and fixed his hat. “E-Everest!” CQ stood straight, “Uh-, I assume by your…very angry eyes…you discovered Operator?” CQ had a slight anxious look on his face.

Everest nodded once before placing her golf club under CQ’s head before he wrapped a tendril around it and yanked it away from Everest, causing her to noticeably jolt. Everest took a moment to register what just happened before she shook her head and answered CQ’s assumption, “You’re damn right I did!” Everest scrambled to put her intimidating act back on.

“Drop the act, Everest. I know you’re worried. You might be angry but nothing you do will hide the worry you feel,” CQ tossed Everest back her golf club, which she quickly caught.

“Whatever- Operator told me you’re his boss.”

“Unfortunately,” CQ rolled his nonexistent eyes, moving his head to imitate rolling eyes.

“Just answer my question! Do you know any way to get him back to being Tartar or- at least remembering me!? I want my dad back,” CQ was right about Everest’s desperation because here it was, on full display for everyone on the train to listen and gossip about.

Everest could hear them already.

“Tartar adopted the human…?”

“Why would anyone adopt a noisy brat like her?”

“You think he gave her the company? That’s what usually happens when the boss has a child and steps down.”

“Euck, nepotism, such a disgusting trait.”

“Humans were known for their greed, I’m not surprised.”

Everest nearly struck one of the passengers with her golf club. She was not a ‘noisy brat’, she wasn’t angry about not getting the company, she wasn’t greedy, and she certainly wasn’t a damn nepo..nepotism! Well, then again, Everest didn’t know what that word meant…she could be a nepotism.

Everest just wanted her dad back! How in the- Calm yourself down, Everest, not everyone knows exactly what’s going on…not everyone understands how important it is to get Tartar back. Please. Do not hit the closest passenger with your golf club.

…As extremely tempting as that is…

“And what makes you think I know anything about electronics? I just build the tests sometimes and help customize them! You could try accessing its code but something tells me that’s going to be very difficult for someone who’s barely seen electronics.”

“What’s code?”

“Exactly.”

Everest growled sharply and clenched her fists tightly. “Are there seriously no other options!?” Everest stomped her foot.

“Do you want to go talk to Marina and Pearl?”

“...No…” Everest frowned before sighing finally, “Whatever, just bring me to Station A03- 2 please. The one with the Rainmaker.”

“Okie dokie, kid,” CQ crawled off back to the conductor’s room to drive to the station.

Everest slowly walked back to the furthest train cart and approached a seat. There was only 1 other person in the cart with her, a flashlight fish. One of the few that weren’t scared of her. They were reading the newspaper. How did that even work? Whatever, it’s not like Everest actually cared.

Depressingly, Everest sat in one of the seats, putting her head in her hands. For 2 and a half weeks, her guardian had completely disappeared with no answer as to where they could’ve gone. Then, just as Everest started not sleeping, he suddenly shows back up! …Without any memories of her or…anyone.

A plan started to brew inside her head.

‘The NILS Statue has been repaired, hasn’t it? Tartar would often disappear to work on it. It’s been 3…maybe 4 years since he last tried to fire it. It has to be good to go, right?’

‘…Maybe firing the NILS Statue is the key to bringing him back…’

‘…Only 1 way to find out…’

#oc writing #splatoon #splatoon oc #splatoon CQ #splatoon tartar #commander tartar

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nixll · 3 years

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venice for one

pairing : harry styles x reader

summary : after getting broken up with and struggling with your own insecurities, you make the split-second decision to take a solo trip to venice. you expect the week to be a fun-filled adventure, but when you accidentally have a run-in with a famous popstar, things don’t go quite as you expect them to.

word count : 9.5k

warning : smut, 18+

“you don’t ever do something just because it makes you feel good?”

paris for one by jojo moyes

The moment you step off the train and onto the platform, you feel a sudden urge to turn back around, toss your bags back on the bench you had been seated on, and make the same exact trip you had just taken again, only backwards this time.

Instead, you force your feet to take one step after another, your suitcase dragging noisily behind you against the concrete platform as you lug your tote bag higher up on your shoulder. In your hand is a note scribbled with the name of the bed and breakfast you booked yourself into, and directions written neatly with bullet points, but as you enter the city of Venice, Italy, you know finding the place you’re looking for is going to be much harder than you had first thought.

The city, as gorgeous as it is, is a slightly confusing maze of sidewalks and canals, and there’s people everywhere. The anxiety you had managed to push away when you got off the train is slowly returning as you look at your directions and attempt to find your way.

This trip had been a split-second decision, one made by your irrationally, heartbroken brain only a few hours after your boyfriend had dumped you. The breakup had come as a surprise to you, especially after many of your friends had brought up the idea of marriage after several years together, but your now ex-boyfriend had thought otherwise.

“You’re not the girl I fell in love with,” he had claimed in an uproar as he threw a suitcase together, “you’re not the fun, outgoing person I used to know.”

You had tried arguing against his claims, but it had done no good, and in the end, he had walked out with nothing more than a promise to come back to what had been your shared apartment to get the rest of his stuff over the next few days. When you called your friends to tell them what happened they had done their best to fill your head with encouraging words and stories about how you were still a fun person to be around, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized your ex was right.

You weren’t the same person he had fallen in love with, and you hadn’t been that person in a long time. In some ways that was okay. You had fallen in love young and where you grew up, he still acted like the immature college student you had met years ago. He partied constantly, going out with friends at all hours of the night, and you honestly don’t remember the last time the two of you hung out somewhere other than the bar down the street. Nice restaurants had never been his thing, and in wanting to make him happy, you had never opted for anything but what he suggested.

You knew he wasn’t happy anymore, and neither were you. You were getting older and concerning yourself with your job and what your future looked like, not when the next time you could go for a cocktail hour was. You had settled into a routine for yourself, one that required no more effort than you needed, and in having that, your now ex-boyfriend decided you were a prude.

After a while, though, you wondered how much of what he had said to you was true. You don’t remember being much of a party girl when you were younger, but you definitely had your moments, and you definitely hadn’t had one of those moments in a long time. You knew if asked what word could describe you the best, adventurous or outgoing wouldn’t be the first word, or second or third to pop into anyone’s head, but maybe you wanted to be those things.

Maybe you wanted a stranger on the street to look at you and wonder what kind of adventures you had been on because just by looking at you, they can tell you know how to have a good time. Maybe you wanted to be that pretty girl in the room, the one that nobody could take their eyes off of.

Five hours after your relationship had ended, you decided you didn’t need your ex, but you did need a change of pace.

You were going to take a trip to Italy by yourself. You hadn’t told anybody, not even your friends, and had only left a brief voicemail to your workplace calling out sick for the rest of the week and no other explanation. It had taken you an hour to book all the tickets needed for travel and to find a place to stay that would take you with such little notice, but in practically no time at all, and with two haphazardly packed bags, you had been on your way to Italy for what you hoped would be a fun adventurous few days.

So far, the idea of a fun filled week had completely escaped your mind and your first day in Italy had started out with a drag.

You had yet to find the Bed & Breakfast you had booked yourself into, and with a sore shoulder from carrying your bag and your hand growing increasingly sweaty as you gripped onto your suitcase, you were beginning to think about what your best bet would be on getting home.

Not a single person you had managed to stop speaks English, and even after you show them the name of the place scribbled at the top of your sheet in Italian, nobody is seemingly able to help you. Venice is not the biggest city, and you remember briefly reading about how it is possible to walk the entire city in the matter of an hour. With a glance at the watch on your wrist, you’re ready to turn around and make your way back to the train station in the hopes of catching a ride back.

That’s when you spot it: the barely-there sign with a name on it that matches the one on your paper.

Vera Ospitalità.

It’s a cute little blue building, looking exactly like it did when you were Googling places to stay in Venice. It hadn’t cost very much, and the lady had sounded sweet over the phone when you asked how soon she would have a room open.

“We always have a room open, cara.”

You hadn’t quite understood what she meant at the time, but the sight of those two Italian words fill your body with a jittery joy as you let out a shout, catching the attention of a few people walking past you. You pay them no mind as you pick up the pace, not taking your eyes off the sign until you’re standing in front of the door and pushing it open.

The bell above lets out a delightful jingle as you walk in. You can only imagine what you look like to the lady sitting at the desk as you walk in with sweat dripping down your forehead and a slightly rumpled paper stuffed in your hand, but she offers you a cheerful smile.

“Are you Irene?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you step up to the desk, letting your bag fall from your shoulder. “We talked on the phone yesterday.”

“Yes! Hello, cara,” Irene says, standing from her seat and reaching for the guestbook she keeps under the counter. “I am happy to see you made it. How was your trip?”

You smile, trying not to think about the want to turn back around and head home you felt only minutes ago. “It was good! Happy to finally be here.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Just sign these forms and I will get you your key.” Irene pushes the book your way and you easily sign your name on the dotted line. “There is only one bathroom upstairs, but you get the room directly across from it.”

Your head snaps up from the book. “One bathroom?”

“Yes,” Irene nods, “but it has a tub, and the water runs perfectly. And there is only one other guest staying here this week, so there should be no trouble.”

“There’s only two of us here?”

Irene pauses. “You ask many questions.”

You offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“There is a young man staying here also, about your age. I only have four rooms and I don’t get many guests.”

You briefly wonder if you should have chosen a slightly more expensive place to stay, but your expectations hadn’t been very high coming in and how bad can it be when there are only two of you staying?

Irene hands over your key, directing you up the stairs to where your room waits for you. “Breakfast is served at 7 if you would like some, otherwise I have a list of places around the city you can visit.”

You give Irene one last thank you before you’re heading up the stairs, your suitcase and bag in hand. Your room is immediately at the top to your right, with the door across from yours labeled bagno with a cute little wooden sign. There are two more rooms a little further down the hall, and then one at the very end with the door open enough for you to glance inside.

There’s music playing – something you’ve heard on the radio a million times before but can’t remember the name of – and you can make out the silhouette of someone sitting at a small desk next to a window. With the way the setting sun is shining through, you can’t make out any of the figure’s features, but you know that this is the man Irene mentioned downstairs.

You wave a hand. “Hi.”

You can see him turn his head, but can’t make out any features still, nor an expression, as he stands and shuts the door without a second thought.

You frown, deciding not to dwell on it as you unlock your room and step inside. It’s small, and you know your friends would try and make it sound better by calling it quaint, but you decide that it’s not any more or any less than you need for the week. There’s a small desk and dresser off to the side, and a twin size bed with a side table sitting next to the headboard. The sight of the small, but very neat room is comforting after the mix of emotions you’d spent your afternoon with, and you find yourself wanting to just fall against the comforter and end your day there.

So, you do, quickly changing into your sleep clothes and doing your nightly routine, you let all the anxiety and the interaction with the man down the hall fall from your mind as you slip under the covers and rest your head against the pillow. It’s early, but you figure you’ve had enough adventure for the day. Plus, you still have the next few days left to spend in the city.

Sleep comes easy to you, so easy that you’re shocked awake the next morning at the sound of loud footsteps coming down the hall, and then a slam of a door. Lifting up from your bed, you glance at the clock on the table next to you and let out a small groan. You hadn’t been planning on taking up Irene’s offer of breakfast at 7, but now that you were awake you figured you might as well do exactly that. The grumble your stomach lets out seems to further settle the idea to get ready and go downstairs into your head.

The banging across the hall continues, and you know the sound belongs to the man from down the hall. Not wanting another interaction like the day before you decide to wait for the sound of the door opening and steps retreating down the hall, knowing the man has returned to his own room before you head into the bathroom with your things to get ready. You throw on a simple outfit for the day, doing all your daily necessities. The smell of cologne fills the small space, and normally it would be something that would irritate you – someone else treating a space as only their own with no other thought of anyone else who might occupy it – but the scent is pleasant enough and you decide to leave it be. When you’re done, you listen again for the sound of footsteps, but there are none.

Opening the door, you peak down the hall. The door at the end is shut, but you still cross the space to your room quicker than normal, opening the door and slipping inside. Just as you grab your shoes and anything else you plan to use throughout the day, your phone finding its spot in your pocket, you hear a door open again. You listen quietly as the man moves down the hall to the stairs, only slipping into the hallway when you know you won’t run into him. He’s already disappeared into the front room when you yourself reach the stairs and start the trek down.

When you reach the bottom floor, Irene stands just across the room in what you realize is the dining area. There’s a jingling as the front door opens, and you look over just in time to see a head of dark brown hair escaping through the entrance.

There’s something odd about you and this stranger avoiding each other, but you don’t let it cloud your thoughts. You don’t even know the man, and don’t have any care to get to know him.

Irene spots you lingering by the stairs and waves you over. “Have you met the other guest yet?”

You smile as you walk over to sit at the table situated in the room. The space isn’t very large, only big enough to hold the essentials of a kitchen and a table that seats six, but the feel of it all is very intimate. It also smells terrific, the smell of sausage and pastries filling the room. You’re suddenly grateful that you chose this place over any of the others, weird neighbors be damned.

“He’s nice, is he not?”

You purse your lips as Irene places a plate loaded to the brim with various breakfast items. The sight makes your stomach grumble again and you laugh in an attempt to conceal it. “I haven’t exactly met him yet.”

Irene frowns. “You haven’t?” She tsks. “He’s very friendly, but he never eats breakfast here.”

“Never?” You glance up from your plate. “How long has he been here?”

“Only few days, but he comes once a year and stays here rather than big fancy hotel.”

You nod, taking a bite of the croissant on your plate. You close your eyes giving a small hum of pleasure at the taste of the buttery pastry. “He’s missing out.”

“You’ll meet him soon enough, I think.” Irene waves her hand around as she takes her own seat, carefully digging into her own plate of food.

You continue breakfast with polite conversation. Irene asks why you decided to come to Italy, and you fib your answer a little, explaining it was just a need to get away for a bit. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to reopen the fresh wound that was your current relationship status.

When you’re done, you bid Irene farewell for the day and head out on your own. The sun is warm as it beams down on your face, the air slightly cool from the canals. You plan to just walk around the city for most of the day, not having much else to do until the afternoon when the gallery you had opted to go to opens.

For a few hours you simply meander around the city, stepping into shops with clothes that cost far too much money, but you try them on anyway. You find a nice place for lunch, deciding you’ll come back to try something else for dinner after the gallery. The day all goes fairly quick, but you head back to Vera Ospitalità with a grin permanently etched into your features.

Irene is not at the front desk when you walk in. It’s getting fairly late in the day and after the large and filling meal you had chosen to eat for dinner, you decide that you’ll end your day with a nice bath and then head to bed, excited for the boat ride you had booked for the next day.

That plan is immediately foiled when you climb the stairs and hear the shower already running. You don’t have any idea how long it’s been occupied, but you figure he has to be done sometime soon and choose to wait in your room until he is.

Fifteen minutes pass before you realize it, and the shower is still going. It occurs to you that all of the hot water must be gone now and you feel a bit frustrated at your thought of a nice night being ruined by a man who doesn’t know how to shower quickly. Trying not to let your frustration get the best of you, you snatch up your towel and storm out of your room to stand in front of the door across from you. There’s some steam coming from the crack between the door and the floor, but you ignore it as you knock on the door.

There’s a noise that sounds something like a grunt, and then the shower shuts off. You listen to shuffling, a rumple of clothes, and then the door swings open and there, for the first time since you arrived in the tiny hotel, you finally come face to face with the stranger who’s been living down the hall from your room. It suddenly hits you why he had been so eager to avoid you the day before and ;told you that he must’ve been trying to avoid you this morning too, obviously trying not to make his presence known.

Harry Styles stands in front of you in a pair of loose shorts with a towel hanging from his hand, his hair dripping down onto his forehead. His tattoos are on full display, the pair of ferns peaking up from his waistband, and his skin is glistening from all the water he hadn’t been given the chance to properly wipe off. Steam pours out through the doorway and the sudden heat of it sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t realize you’re staring until your eyes meet his and he cocks a brow. “You’re not going to be a creep and ask me for a photo, are you?”

His tone is dangerous, and he’s got an accusatory look plastered on his face. It makes something in you want to snap back, that anger from not being able to take a bath like you wanted still lingering a bit, but instead you stand there, trying to think of the best words to say back to the man in front of you who clearly thinks you’re here for something other than a nice vacation. Every possible thing you had wanted to say before the door had opened has suddenly disappeared from your brain, only to be replaced with the slight shock of your current situation. Your mouth opens and snaps closed one time, then again, as the words you want to say struggle to fall from your mouth.

Eventually, you hold up your towel.

Harry’s head tilts to the side, his gaze curious. “So, you’re not just renting the crappiest hotel in the entire city in order to get some sort of insider photos?”

You frown, the shakiness you had felt disappearing as you think about Irene and her hospitality. “It’s not a crappy hotel.”

Harry smiles, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s amused and not because you’re doing a nice thing by defending Irene. “No, but it sure isn’t popular and nobody ever comes here. I’m always by myself when I come – Irene makes sure of it.”

You remember what Irene had told your over the phone when you asked about booking.

We always have a room open.

You purse your lips and try holding your head a little higher. “I’m not some crazed fan. I’m just here for a nice vacation.”

Harry looks you over. “Nice vacation? You don’t seem like the type.”

“It…” You stumble over what to say, trying to get a grip on the current situation you’re in with a half-naked famous popstar standing in front of you. He leans against the doorway, an arm propped against his head, and you swallow. “It was spontaneous.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “You still don’t seem like the type.”

“You don’t know me,” you manage to say, feeling slightly offended by his words, but Harry just grins.

“And I don’t care to.” He claps his hands together, the sound muffled by the towel still gripped in his hand. “Pleasantries aside, I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt my shower next time, and also if you continued to not take photos of me whatsoever.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Harry has already pushed himself off the doorway and is marching down the hall before you can even think of what to say back to him. He doesn’t even bother turning back to look at you, just walks into the room and slams the door shut.

You wince at the sound, trying to still get a grip at what just occurred. You step into the still hot bathroom with its steamed-up mirror and slightly wet floor, but you disregard it as you move to the tub. You turn the handle for the hot water and aren’t surprised to find that it’s ice cold. You let it run for a minute, trying to see if it’ll warm up even the slightest, but you give up and shut it off when it remains cold.

You realize that not only had Harry left you with no hot water to take a shower in, but he also hadn’t bothered to ask for your name. When your head hits the pillow minutes later, choosing just to settle in for the night, you let the exhaustion of the day wash over you and fall asleep easily, though the irritation with Harry settles in well into the early morning.

Your alarm goes off early after a couple of hours, waking you up well before you know Harry will be awake. You quickly gather up your clothes and head to the bathroom, turning on the shower and hopping in before another second passes.

You take your time getting ready, lingering under the hot water for as long as you can before getting out and slowly going over each of your tasks in your morning ritual. You’re in the middle of finishing up your hair when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yes?” you call out, already knowing it couldn’t be anybody but your neighbor down the hall.

“It’s Harry,” he says, muffled through the door. It occurs to you that he never actually told you his name the night before, but you know he’s assumed you already knew who he was before. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong in that assumption. “Are you almost done?”

You grin at the turn of events. “Almost.”

It’s another ten minutes before you’re done. You had expected Harry to have turned around and headed back to his own room to wait, something you would have done if you had been in his place, but when you open the door he’s standing there across the hall, leaning against the wall next to your own room. It takes you by surprise, seeing him standing there. He’s already dressed for the day, a nice, knitted shirt on with brown shorts to match and checkered vans decorating his feet. The only thing out of place is his hair, still a mess of curls from where he hadn’t had the chance to comb them down yet.

You offer a smile as you step out of the bathroom. “All yours.”

Harry has a sour expression on his face as you pass by to get into your room. You don’t bother giving him any more attention than that, though, not keen on him accusing you of anything else.

At 7 you head downstairs. Irene is already settled into the kitchen with a plate full of food waiting for you. She smiles when she spots you. “Sleep well?”

You nod. “Finally met Harry.”

“Oh, Harry!” Irene claps her hands together. “Isn’t he so lovely?”

You hum in response. “Lovely,” you try to hide the sarcasm in your voice, “that is definitely the word I would use.”

Irene’s eyes flicker behind you, and she brightens at the sight of Harry coming down the stairs. “There he is! Harry, come have breakfast.”

Harry appears, hair now perfectly in place, walking around the table to greet Irene with a hello and a kiss to her cheek. “Can’t, love. Have places to be.”

“Oh, stay for a bit. It’s too early to have anywhere important to be. Talk with us,” Irene urges, gesturing to you already seated at the table.

You give an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, talk to us, Harry.”

Harry forces a smile onto his face. “Only for a bit, yeah?”

Your frown is immediate as Harry takes the seat across from you. You had remembered what Irene had said the day before, about Harry never joining her for breakfast, and that had led you to expect him to decline Irene’s offer and head out for the day, but now you were stuck with him sitting there in front of you.

“What are the plans for today?” Irene asks, seemingly unaware of the tension at the table.

Harry gives her a genuine smile as he steals a roll from the plate she had placed in the middle of the table and takes a bite. “Goin’ to wander the city a bit, might take a nice boat ride.”

“I’m doing a boat ride too,” you chime in. The look Harry throws you is something similar to a glare, but you just smile, knowing you managed to get under his skin already this morning before he had even tried to touch yours.

The rest of the conversation is tense, with Irene staying blissfully unaware to the dirty looks you and Harry throw at each other. A part of you wonders how you can act like this with a complete stranger, but when you accidentally kick his shin under the table, and Harry returns a swift kick of his own, the thought is completely overshadowed by the irritation you feel when you look at him.

When Harry finishes his roll a few minutes later, he delivers a quick peck to Irene’s cheek and heads out, offering no goodbye to you. When he’s gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and stand from your chair.

“Thank you for breakfast, Irene.” You make to move for the stairs, planning to take a little time to yourself before your planned boat ride later, but Irene stops you.

“He is better once you get used to him,” she tells you.

Your nose crinkles at that, wondering how much she actually had caught on to when it came to you and Harry. “I just think he doesn’t like me very much.”

She waves her hand. “He did not like me very much at first either, but he warms up in time.”

With a final nod, you head upstairs. The hours pass quickly as you find random things to do – playing games on your phone, reading a book. You had briefly wondered about calling your friends back home, curious if they had thought about you since you had last spoke to them, but you eventually decide against it when it’s time to head out for your boat ride.

The air is warm when you step outside, and the place where you’re supposed to go is only just down the block. There’s a delightful breeze that blows through your hair as you walk down the sidewalk, admiring the city as it moves through its daily ventures. You reach the dock you need to go to much easier than you had the Bed & Breakfast, but your stomach immediately drops as soon as you step on the pier.

Harry is standing with who you assume is the skipper of the boat you’ll be on. He has an impatient look on his face and his arms are crossed as he taps his foot against the wooden planks. When he spots you walking down the pier, a look of realization crosses his features.

“You’re going on a boat ride?” he asks, his brows raised above the rim of his sunglasses. “This boat ride?”

You look at the skipper and give a not-so-confident nod.

“Ah! You’re the girl who booked me so late the other day!” he announces almost proudly, and you offer an apologetic smile, choosing to ignore a clearly frustrated Harry.

“I’m so sorry about all that, it was so last minute—”

“Do not worry, darling. It seems to be my fault.” He gestures between you and Harry. “I seem to have made the mistake and made a double booking on accident. Either the two of you may ride the boat together and I’ll give half off, or one of you can leave and I’ll give full refund. I am booked full rest of day.”

You can feel Harry glaring at you through his glasses. “I’m not giving this up,” you tell him, feeling your own irritation grow at the sight of his.

“Well, neither am I.”

The skipper glances between the two of you before giving a delightful shout. “Two of you it will be! Let’s get going.”

You and Harry give the same exasperated look to the skipper, but he’s already climbing on the small speed boat, waving for you to follow.

Harry looks to you. “Ladies first.”

You don’t bother with a thank you as you climb onto the boat, Harry not far behind, and find a seat on the small bench available. With no other place to sit, Harry is forced to sit next to you on the bench clearly fit to hold two people intimately. Neither of you say anything as the skipper starts the engine and pulls away from the pier and into the lagoon you were meant to be traveling.

For a moment, you regret not just walking away and letting Harry have the boat ride to himself. You can’t imagine being able to enjoy it when he won’t even look at you even though his shoulder and thigh are flush against your own as you both attempt to fit on the bench. You still want to make the most of it, so you turn to look at Harry, deciding to attempt to show some of the same hospitality you had been experiencing so much of in Italy

“Do people really stay in the same hotels as you to get photos?”

“What?” His sunglasses have fallen slightly down his nose, and his eyes are visible just over the rim.

You swallow down any frustrating feelings you might have against Harry right now. “Last night, you accused me of being in the B&B so I could get a photo of you—”

“Sorry about that,” Harry mumbles out, pushing his glasses back in place. “Shouldn’t have come at you so quick.”

You can tell that some of the tension has left his body and that makes you feel a bit better about being stuck with him now. “Do people really do that, though?”

You wish he had taken the glasses off now, just so you could see the expression hidden behind them. You can’t tell what he’s thinking with his eyes hidden behind the dark rims.

“I’ve been doing this for over ten years,” he finally says, “I’ve had people break into my home, fans have snuck into my tour bus, and I’ve been chased down the street. You checking into the same place I am staying, a place that is normally empty year-round, and trying to snap a cheeky photo would not surprise me in the slightest.”

You suck in a breath. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I see that now.” Harry smiles as he stands up and leans against the boat, looking out over the water. You look over the design on the back of his shirt, the image of a horse clearly visible. “Sorry for using up all the hot water last night.”

Your eyes flit to the skipper standing at the wheel, but he pays neither of you any attention as he hums to himself. “It’s okay.”

“Also sorry for not asking for your name since you clearly already know mine.” He looks back over his shoulder at you. “So, what is it?”

“What?”

A smile. “Your name, love.”

“Oh.” You give up your name, falling from your lips as you remember the bit of hurt you felt the night before upon realizing he hadn’t asked for it then. It had been a strange feeling, wanting a complete stranger to know your name. especially when you and said stranger hadn’t gotten on so well, but now that he had asked for it you felt a sense of accomplishment.

Harry repeats it, his accent lilting something sweet. “S’a lovely name.”

He’s still looking at you when you say nothing, and it leaves you with a strange feeling. You try to think of what to say next, and when it comes to you, you almost laugh.

You hold out your hand. “Truce?”

The smile Harry gives you takes up the entirety of his face, dimples proudly displayed on his cheeks. He takes your hand in his own, his palm warm in yours. “Truce,” he confirms.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for the rest of the ride, only interrupted by the sounds of the boat on the water and the skipper’s humming. Even with all your misadventures, you couldn’t deny that the city of Venice was gorgeous. And in some way, everything had seemed to work out for you so far, even creating something that resembled the beginnings of a friendship with Harry after a rough start.

When the boat pulls up to the pier, you realize that you feel more comfortable around Harry. No longer does he intimidate you like he had when you first laid eyes on him, but rather you feel easier with him, like you’re able to strike a conversation with him with no worries at all.

So, you do try to talk to him as you step off the boat, but he apparently had the same thought and the two of you laugh as you talk over each other.

“You first,” you tell him, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“I, uh,” Harry stutters over his words as he removes his glasses, looking up and down the pier to keep his eyes on something other than you. “I was just going to ask if you had eaten lunch already.”

“I think it’s well past lunch time.” You look down at the watch adorning your wrist. “But no, I only ate breakfast.”

Harry’s eyes flash to you, and the green of them is startling under the sunlight. “Would you like to go for a late lunch?”

You much prefer this friendly Harry to the one you had first been introduced to, and you understand that there’s a garner of trust between the two of you now. “I’d love to.”

Harry leads you down the pier and back onto the concrete sidewalks around Venice. It’s settling well into the afternoon, the sun beginning to drift just below the tops of the buildings around the city. You don’t bother asking where you’re heading off to, trusting that Harry will have a great choice in wherever you go.

Eventually, after walking a few blocks, still basking in that comfortable silence from the boat, Harry stops at a door with a sign overhead that you don’t understand. He opens the door and waves you in.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with the smell of pasta and bread hitting your nose. You breathe it in deep and the hostess at the front smiles as she watches you do so.

“First time?” she asks, her accent thick.

You nod, jumping a little when Harry appears next to you and places his hand on your arm.

“This is one of my favorite places,” he tells you, gesturing with two fingers to the hostess. “They have the best spaghetti.”

The place isn’t as packed as you would expect it to be, most likely because of your arrival between lunch and dinner, but there’s still enough people for it to feel a bit crowded. The hostess walks you over to a booth in the corner, a bit hidden away from the other patrons in the restaurant, and you know it’s because of who you’re with.

The popstar in question sits across from you but doesn’t bother grabbing a menu for himself. “Wine okay with you?”

You nod and wait for the waitress to come over. When she does, offering up her name in a sweet lilting accent, Harry orders the wine and you give a thankful nod as she walks away before turning back to Harry. “So, the spaghetti?”

Harry lets out a low moan. “It’s the best. I come here every time I visit. Practically a regular when I’m in Italy.”

“It’s that good?”

“Better than good.”

You leave your menu resting in front of you, untouched until the waitress returns with a jug of wine and two glasses. She hands one off to each of you before topping them off with the jug.

“Your usual, Mr. Styles?”

The question sends Harry beaming. “Please. And she’ll have the same,” he gestures to you, and you give a soft confirmation.

Once the waitress has left, Harry takes a long sip of his wine before clapping his hands together. “So, what brings you to Italy?”

This Harry sitting in front of you is much different than the one you had met face to face for the first time the night before. There’s something softer about him, as if the edge was taken off the moment he put his hand in yours earlier. You like this Harry more, you think, with his giddy smile and soft giggle.

You remember how you had lied to Irene when she had asked you why you had traveled to Italy, but something tells you not to do that with Harry. “My boyfriend dumped me.”

Harry’s face drops, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you wave a hand in front of you before he can get it out.

“I’m already over it, but there were some things he said that made me rethink a lot of stuff.”

“Like what?” His gaze is curious, and it makes you want to tell him everything going on in your brain, how you’re still upset and hurt, but want to feel free while you still have the time to here in Italy.

Instead, you sugarcoat it a little. “Just stuff about how he missed the girl I used to be – more fun and care-free.”

“Are you not that girl?”

You shrug, your hand playing with the stem of your wine glass before you lift it to take a sip. “I don’t know, but I liked the sound of being adventurous and doing something unexpected so—”

“So, you booked a trip to Italy?” Harry grins. “That’s quite impressive.”

“What is?”

“Deciding to just up and go to a different country for no other reason than you want to. I think you’re a bit more outgoing than your boyfriend gives you credit for.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Harry smiles into his glass. “Right. Ex-boyfriend.”

Your food arrives not long after that, two giant plates of spaghetti with pieces of garlic bread on the side. Harry laughs at your surprised expression at the sight of the amount of food now sitting in front of you.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to feed an army.”

Harry picks up his fork, stabbing it into the noodles and twisting it around. “Try it.”

You follow his lead, picking up your own fork. When you take a bite of the pasta, you shut your eyes as the taste coats your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“I told you.”

The two of you eat practically in silence, savoring the taste of your meal and not letting the flow of conversation interrupt your eating. Neither of you finish your plate, Harry coming much closer to doing so then you are and you’re left trying to finish the still half full jug of wine in the middle of the table.

You don’t know when you start feeling like telling Harry more about yourself, maybe after your third glass of wine, but eventually you’re telling him all about the fear you had of coming to Italy.

“What do you mean you almost didn’t come here?”

You giggle a little. “I stepped off the train and almost turned right back around to get on.”

“Why?”

You give an exaggerated shrug. “My own brain? I don’t know.” You look down at your glass of wine. “Sometimes I feel like everyone’s opinions of me are right, y’know? Maybe I am that girl that just doesn’t do anything except work and go home.”

“I get that feeling.”

Your eyes shoot up to look at Harry. “You do?”

Harry gives a lazy raise of his shoulders. “Of course. I have reporters and paparazzi up my ass at practically all hours of the day. Sometimes I wish I could scream at them that I’m not everything they think I am, nor do I want to be.”

You let out a snicker and Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. I almost forgot I was sitting with a famous popstar.”

Harry groans, but there’s a playful look on his face as he wags a finger at you. “That’s cheeky.”

You decide to keep going, seeing how far you can push it. “My friends are going to love it when I tell them that I got to hang out with the Harry Styles. I’m pretty sure one of them used to have a poster of you in their bedroom.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Another had the cardboard cutout.”

That sends Harry into a fit of giggles, causing you to follow his lead. You both are a little too tipsy by this point, and the jug is nearly finished.

It doesn’t occur to you how long you had been inside the restaurant until you walk outside and see that the sky has turned dark. The blocks are lit by streetlights, and under them Harry looks like something out of a dream. You don’t mean to lean into him as you walk back to the B&B, but you do so in order to try and keep your balance and Harry doesn’t seem to mind with the way he tosses his arm around your shoulders lazily.

“Tonight was fun,” he tells you, trying not to walk faster than you do. The position is hard to keep as you walk, but neither of you pull away. “’S been a while since I’ve done something with someone like this.”

You smile at his admission. “You mean you don’t go out somewhere with a complete stranger at least once a week?” You tsk. “You’ve gotta get out more, Mr. Styles.”

The B&B is quiet when you arrive back, and you feel like a teenager again as you sneak past the front desk and up the stairs, trying your best to keep quiet since you both know Irene has already gone off to bed. Your exe’s words briefly flit through your brain, and you wonder what he’d say if he saw you now – drunkenly stumbling around in a mysterious city with a man you’ve known barely longer than a day.

When your foot catches on a step, Harry is there behind you to steady you before you can fall forward. His hands catch your hips, helping keep your balance, but rather than it be something that would send your stomach in knots, the gesture makes you laugh out as you think about how funny it would have been to fall face first into the carpeted floor.

You clamp a hand over your mouth, staring behind at Harry who looks like he’s barely keeping himself from laughing. You maneuver your hand so it’s just your index finger pressed against your lips, a soft shhh falling past them. Harry nods, pretending to zip his lips shut and locking them, before throwing the pretend key over his shoulder. The action threatens to send you into another fit of giggles, but you manage to hold it in as you take the rest of the steps two at a time.

The boards creak beneath your feet as you walk to your door. Turning, you just about run into Harry, your hands flying up to press against his chest in an attempt to keep from stumbling into him.

“Sorry,” you stutter out, taking a step back and resting your back against your door. “Wine’s getting to me.”

Harry smiles, and in the barely-there light of the hallway, you think you can see something playful glittering in his eyes. “S’getting to me too.”

You suddenly remember the feel of his hands on your hips moments earlier, and the way he had kept his arm wrapped around you the whole way back. There’s that knot in your stomach that hadn’t appeared before, slowly making itself known now as you try to think of what to say next.

Harry speaks first, his voice low and his words slurred. “I had fun tonight.”

“So you said.”

“How long are you staying?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Tomorrow is my last full day. I leave the next morning.”

Harry looks a bit disappointed by that, but it’s quickly replaced by something else. “Y’know, I think I have a terrific way for you to prove to everyone when you go back that you still know how to have a good time.”

You swallow when Harry takes a step closer, your back pressing further into your door. “And what’s that?”

A smile, one that’s devious and just a little bit convincing, “Let me kiss you?

You bite your lip, trying to get ahold of the situation. This is not at all how you expected your vacation to go, but you can’t help but agree that it is the best way to prove to everyone and yourself that you’re not who they think you are.

You realize that this is it – your moment to prove to yourself that everyone else was wrong. How could you not be adventurous when you’re in a random country all by yourself, about to kiss a boy you’ve never met? That’s the perfect thing to do to prove everyone wrong.

And maybe there’s something in the way that Harry’s advances make you feel that adds to you giving a soft yes.

When Harry kisses you, it’s just as you would have imagined it. And then somehow, it’s more. His lips are soft against your own, the distant taste of strawberry chapstick and the wine from earlier lingering on them and you want to savor that taste, burn the memory of those flavors together into your brain. His hands find your hips again, pressing into them unlike he had earlier. There’s intention behind the grip, the promise of something more to come.

You clumsily reach for the doorknob behind you, not daring to move your lips away from Harry’s. The door falls open and almost takes you with it as you stumble back, barely catching yourself by gripping onto Harry’s shoulders. You press your mouth back to his, feeling like he could swallow you whole in that moment.

You reach blindly for the zipper on his shorts, your hand brushing over the tent forming there and causing Harry to let out a hiss at the friction. You smile against his mouth when he reaches down, taking the matter into his own hands and unzipping his shorts as he kicks off his shoes. You follow his lead and let your shoes meet his own in a pile on the floor. The pile only grows as you both precede to strip, and when you’re left staring at Harry’s naked body, a small gasp falls from your lips.

You reach out to run a hand across the butterfly inked into his stomach before letting it trial down to tease one of the ferns against his hip. You remember them from the night before, half concealed by the shorts he had kept on, but now having them on full display sendsa shudder through you.

“You’re pretty,” you tell him softly, and he laughs.

“So are you,” he replies, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, gently pushing you back onto your bed.

You had almost forgotten about the twin size bed in your room until you fall against it. You want to laugh at the size of it compared to your two bodies collapsing onto it, but Harry rests himself on top of you and attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking a deep mark into your skin.

One hand finds his hair, raking your fingers through it and tearing a groan from Harry’s chest, while the other scrapes at his back, your nails threatening to leave red scratches all over his skin. Harry lingers against your neck for only a moment before he’s trailing down your body, planting kisses against your skin as he goes.

When he reaches your hip, he digs his fingers into your stomach as he leaves a kiss in the curve there before he plants himself between your thighs. The bed is squeaking in protest to all of this movement, but it’s not bad enough for you to want to stop.

Harry kisses at your folds before bringing his fingers up to spread them. Both your hands are tangled in his curls now, tightening their hold as Harry’s tongue finds your clit. You squirm as he presses his mouth against you, coaxing a few moans from you before you remember that you’re not alone in the building.

“Harry,” you gasp out as your hips buck against his mouth, “the bed.”

You don’t think he hears you at first, the squeaking growing louder with each move he makes that causes your hips to come up off the mattress, but then his hands are under your thighs. Slowly, without moving his mouth away from you, Harry slides you off the bed. He meets the floor first, a bit more gracefully than you do as you slip off the bed and onto the floor. Harry laughs when you let out a yelp as your ass hits the carpeted floor.

You’re face to face with him now, and there’s slick covering his mouth. Without thinking, you grab his face and kiss him, letting your own taste wash over your tongue. Harry groans into your mouth, the vibration moving through your chest.

“I wanna taste you,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“Swear I won’t be able to hold it in much longer.” He’s breathing heavily and that only makes you smile something wicked that sends Harry’s brain into overload.

“Just a little taste,” you mutter before pushing at his chest so he falls back onto the carpet. You move between his legs like he had only minutes ago, your hand coming up to grip the base of his dick.

Harry lets out a hiss as you wrap your hand around him, giving a slow pump. When you lick the tip, though, he can barely hold back the moan he lets out and you laugh a little.

“Good?” you ask, taking him into your mouth finally and Harry feels like he’s slowly losing the will to function, wondering if he can even get the words out.

“Good, yeah. Yeah. S’good.”

You give him a few more pumps, moaning against him when he brings a hand up to wrap in your hair, but you don’t want him to lose control before he can get inside of you, so you restrain yourself and pull back.

Harry gives you a pitiful look when you pull away, only to be replaced with something much more eager when you begin to climb on top of him. He lays back against the carpet, grabbing your hips as you guide yourself onto his cock.

You both let out a mixture of sounds as you slide down onto him, letting yourself get used to the feel of it. After a minute, you rock back onto him, and Harry takes that as a good sign. Before you know it, he’s lifting his hips off the floor to fuck up into you, turning you into a whining mess as you chase your orgasm. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and you’re sure that Irene must’ve heard you at this point, but you don’t care anymore as you press your hands down onto Harry’s stomach and try to meet the pace he’s set.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, but you could already tell with the way his thrusts have become more frantic and sloppier. You can only nod, falling against his chest as you feel the beginnings of your own orgasm start to take over.

When yours hits, you cry out into Harry’s chest. Harry doesn’t stop, though, instead wrapping his arms around you as he chases his own. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he’s pulling out of you and moaning into your hair. You can feel the hot spurts hit your stomach, dripping down onto his due to your position. The two of you stay like that, his arms still wrapped tight around you, holding you to him.

“Harry?” you finally say after a few minutes of you trying to catch your breath. You can feel the effects of the wine from earlier still mixed with the aftermath of your orgasm, and it’s all making your brain feel a bit hazy.

“Yeah?”

You roll off of Harry, the heat of being pressed to him becoming a little too much, but he doesn’t let you go, and you find yourself laying sideways, Harry’s arms still wrapped around you as you lay face to face. “Do you usually fuck random strangers you barely know in Italy?”

Harry lets out a soft giggle, one of his hands beginning to rub at your back. “You’d be the first.”

You reach a hand up to run through his curls, pushing them back off his forehead. “Glad to know I’m not alone there,” you mumble. “So, what do we do now?”

Harry shrugs the best he can in his position on the floor. “We clean up, try to fit in your tiny bed, and figure it out in the morning?”

You hum in response. “I don’t think I can face Irene in the morning.”

“Oh, that woman sleeps like the dead. N’way she heard.”

“Still.”

Harry thinks for a moment. “How about I go downstairs in the morning, grab us some of Irene’s lovely breakfast, and convince her to go out for the day so you can be free of the embarrassment of her hearing us having really amazing vacation sex?”

You roll your eyes. “Then it’ll be obvious what we’re doing.”

“Yes, but I think Irene would appreciate the heads up before she’s wondering why the boards are creaking so badly the whole day.”

You smack your hand against Harry’s chest and a laugh bubbles up from it. “Are you saying you’re going to have me spend my last day in Italy locked away in a bedroom getting my guts rearranged?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” he laughs.

You hum again. “Y’know, I thought I hated you this morning.”

“That was kinda evident by the way you kicked me under the table at breakfast.”

You gasp. “That was an accident!”

“Ah, so you just wanted an excuse to play footsie, huh?”

You hit him again. “An accident, Harry.”

Harry laughs, pulling you further against him. You let out a yawn as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. “We should probably get up. I feel a bit gross.”

You hum in response, tickling Harry’s neck with the vibrations. You hear Harry say your name in an attempt to get your attention, but you’re already drifting off against his chest with the promise of him etched into your brain for when you wake up.

Harry figures he’ll get up in a bit rather than disturb you now, letting himself relax against you. He means to only lay there for a few minutes until he knows he can remove himself from you so he can clean up, but soon enough his eyelids are falling shut as he too drifts off to sleep.

#completely obsessed with jojo moyes and her books #so im happy i had this idea #italy!harry is a fucking babe also #harry #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #one direction imagine #my fics #italy!harry

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

Text

An Unfortunate Predicament

Warnings: tickling, fluff, maybe a little bit of reader crushing on a certain Asgardian

Word count: 2600

Honestly not sure where this came from, but I've dumped this silly idea out of my head and into this fic. Hopefully you find it amusing.

* * *

For the life of you, you don’t know how you ended up in this position.

Well, you do know how you got up here, at least. Tony had announced that he had a ropes course installed in the tower (for ‘additional training opportunities’ he insisted, although you all knew he just wanted an excuse to watch you all fall flat on your faces when you missed a step). Many of the Avengers were eager to try it out, especially Thor and Peter, who had giddily shoved their way to the front of the line to be the first to attempt the course.

You, on the other hand, had hung back from the group. You were afraid of heights, and while this ropes course wasn’t more than 6 or 7 feet off the ground, and there were soft rubbery mats underneath to break your fall should you slip, you couldn’t bring yourself to try it. Especially not in front of your teammates. No one knew about this little fear of yours, and you preferred to keep it that way to avoid being teased for being the only Avenger afraid of heights.

After a week or so, once the novelty had worn off for the rest of the team, you started to consider if maybe practicing on the course might help you to learn to get past this silly phobia. On a few occasions, you had casually made your way down to the gym where the ropes course was housed under the pretense of looking for someone, when really you were scoping it out to see if the room was unoccupied. Every time you tried, though, there was inevitably someone either practicing on the course or otherwise using some of the other gym equipment in the room. You much preferred that no one was there to witness you attempt it for the first time just in case you started to panic when you started to climb up that first rope ladder.

This morning, the other Avengers had disembarked on a mission before you had woken up for the day. This particular mission had no requirement for your talents, so you were able to stay behind and take a much-needed day to yourself. After lounging in bed for much of the morning, the notion crossed your mind that the gym would be completely and definitively empty for the afternoon.

And so, you made your way down to the gym and started slowly climbing up the ladder to the first platform. Once you reached the top and stood up, you looked down at the floor and felt your stomach drop just a bit. However, you steeled yourself and continued on across the swinging rope bridge in front of you. After a few obstacles, you had finally started to feel your fear start to ebb away as you became accustomed to the view. You started moving more quickly across the obstacles, now trying to see how fast you could get through the entire course.

Unfortunately, your rushing ended up being your downfall. You were crawling across a rope net to get to the next platform when suddenly you felt the net start to tip to the side. Normally, the purpose of the obstacle would have been to continue climbing upside down until you reached the other side. However, you had panicked at the sudden motion, stiffening as the net rolled over. Your leg slipped through one of the holes of the net, and somehow it twisted around your ankle enough to hold it in place while the rest of your body continued to flip over.

And now, here you were, hanging upside-down from this ropes course with your leg tangled in the net, blood rushing to your head as you tried to process what just happened. Your head was much closer to the ground now, at least, but it wasn’t quite close enough for you to reach the floor with your hands to try to gain leverage to untangle yourself. You tried to lift your upper body up in a sort of 180-degree sit-up to attempt to untangle your ankle from the net, but the rope was too taut for you to loosen it enough to pull your leg out. Frustrated, you relaxed your aching abdominal muscles and let yourself hang there, realizing with dread in the pit of your stomach that there was no one else in the compound to come help you escape.

Figuring you would have better luck getting yourself unhooked if you allowed yourself some time to rest, you let yourself just hang there and took a few deep breaths. Just as you were mustering up the strength to try again, a voice from the doorway caused you to jump in surprise.

“Well now. What an unfortunate predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”

No. Oh no. Literally anyone else could have walked in and you’d have felt some relief, that someone was going to help you get down from this trap. Why did it have to be Loki?

“Shut up,” you muttered, folding your arms across your chest in an attempt to look annoyed despite your inverted position. “You could just help me down from here, you know.”

“I certainly could. But where would be the fun in that?” Loki strolled into the room, coming to a stop just a foot away from you. From this angle, you had to look down (or, rather, up) slightly to see his face, as your head hung at just about his shoulder level.

“What’s so fun about standing here and watching me hang upside-down?” you retorted. “Suppose I enjoy this?”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have just asked me to help you down, now would you?” Loki started to pace in a slow circle around you, forcing you to twist your neck and torso to be able to keep an eye on him. You knew better than to turn your back on the trickster by now. “Besides – if I recall, it was you who stole all of my books last week and hid them throughout the tower, hmm?”

You snickered at that. It was totally worth it to watch Loki storming around the tower, grumbling as he emptied drawers and crawled on the floor to look under furniture in hopes he would find his books. Honestly, you were surprised he hadn’t tried to prank you in return yet, but you had a feeling it was coming. Although, it seemed you had put yourself in just the position for him to exact his revenge without having to think of a prank.

“Oh yes, I’m sure you thought it was amusing then,” he growled, pacing back around in front of you and leaning down so his face was inches from yours as he glared at you. “You realize, I hope, that the others will not be back for at least another four hours?”

“What? I thought they were supposed to be home in an hour!” you exclaimed. Loki smirked.

“They are running a bit late. Ran into some minor complications during the mission. They should be leaving to head home in about an hour.”

You groaned at this revelation. You knew they were a three-hour plane ride away, and so if Loki was telling the truth, you would be dangling upside down for quite some time unless you convinced him to help you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed your pride and started to plead.

“Loki… I’m sorry about your books, really. Please, could you help me get down?” you begged. His smirk only grew wider at this.

“You must be truly desperate, darling, to already be begging for me to help you,” he chuckled. You felt heat prickle in your cheeks, partially from embarrassment at having gotten yourself into this situation and partially from the unexpected thrill that rushed through your chest at the slow, smooth tone of his voice as he taunted you.

“If I admit it, will you finally help me get down?” you bartered, ready for this interaction to end so you could go hide in your room for the rest of the night in complete humiliation.

“Hmm. That certainly would help your case, but I’ll need a bit more than that,” he countered.

“Ugh, like what?” Loki thought for a moment, touching a finger to his chin.

“Admit that I am the superior prankster in the tower,” he demanded, “and that you never stood a chance against the all-mighty god of mischief. AND-“ he added, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to protest, “you have to say this to all of the Avengers when they return.”

“Ok, first of all, you know they’ll know you’re making me say it, so where’s the fun in it for you?” you quipped.

“I know. I also know how much embarrassment it will still cause you to have to say it out loud.” His smirk was practically wicked by this point.

“Alright, but suppose it does embarrass me that much - even if I agree to it, how do you know I won’t just go back on my word once you get me down?” you retorted.

“If you do, I will put you right back where I found you, and someone else will have to get you down,” he opposed. Your eyes widened, then narrowed indignantly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“We both know you know I would.”

“You are insufferable, you know that?” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “Fine. I’ll do it. Just get me down.”

“A wise decision,” he declared. Loki stepped underneath the net and inspected the rope wrapped around your ankle. He reached up and tugged on it a bit to test how much give it would provide. “The rope is wound too tightly for me to unwind it,” he observed.

“Well, can’t you get me down some other way then?”

“I think if I lift you up enough that your weight isn’t holding the rope taut, you should be able to slip out of it,” he suggested. You nodded, willing to try anything at this point. He reached up and grabbed hold of your waist just above your hips, causing you to jerk involuntarily and let out a high-pitched squeak. You felt your stomach drop again, the same way it had when you’d first climbed up onto the ropes course, when you saw Loki’s expression morph from confusion to pure mischief.

“Wh-what are you giving me that look for?” you asked hesitantly, reaching up absentmindedly to pull your shirt down where a sliver of skin had been showing.

“Because I just learned something new about you, and I don’t think I’m quite ready to help you down just yet,” he explained, his tone ominous.

“Don’t… you… dare,” you growled.

“Darling, I don’t believe you’re in a position to be making threats,” he retorted, starting to pace around you again.

“Loki! Get back here where I can see yOU!” Your voice pitched up an octave as you felt him tweak your side. “I swear to god, Loki, I will hold you down and beat you senselehehehess!” You lost your composure as you felt ten slender fingers gently scratching at your sides just below your ribcage.

“You don’t sound very threatening, love,” Loki teased, working his torturous fingers up between your lower ribs. You couldn’t respond coherently anymore, batting at his hands and twisting around violently trying to escape his touch. “Maybe you should try again, but this time with a bit more malice in your tone.”

“I will kihihihill you!” you shrieked, uncontrollable giggles spilling from your mouth as his fingers traveled to your belly, his thumbs digging into your sides. Being upside-down, in addition to not being able to see his face with him standing behind you, made you feel incredibly exposed. You reached down and grasped both of his wrists, tugging as hard as you could to pull his hands away from your ticklish torso to no avail.

Loki thankfully paced back around in front of you, continuing to tickle you with one hand as he walked. You realized this was actually probably worse than when he was behind you because now you could see his amused expression, and you knew he could see the flustered flushing of your face. You tried your hardest to shoot him a menacing glare, which only succeeded in drawing a laugh from him as he latched both hands onto your upper ribs and continued to tickle you with renewed vigor.

“OK! OK! WAIHIHIT LOKI! I CAHAHAN’T!” you pleaded as he slipped his thumbs under your arms, his fingers wrapped around the back of your uppermost ribs and digging into your skin in the most agonizing way. You were thrashing violently now trying to evade his fingers, not noticing the rope looped around your ankle slipping.

The next thing you knew, your ankle slid out of the rope net above you, and you came crashing to the floor. Or, rather, you came crashing down onto Loki, who then crashed to the floor under the impact.

Relieved that at least he was no longer tickling you, you gasped for breath and pushed yourself up onto your hands. You heart skipped when you realized that your nose was practically touching his, but the shock caused your muscles to freeze. For a moment, Loki didn’t move either, looking straight into your eyes.

You finally regained your composure, deciding to play it off as if you’d found a way to beat him at his own game to hide the fact that your heart was pounding in your throat at the close contact. You grinned wickedly down at him.

“Looks like I got myself down, didn’t I?” you quipped. “Guess I don’t have to lie and say you’re the best prankster after all.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, which should have been your cue to get up, but before you realized it he had grabbed your arms and flipped you so he was now hovering over you. You looked up at him, bewildered, as he smirked evilly back at you.

“Oh darling, that was a mistake.” You jolted as his fingers once again made contact with your ribcage, unable to control the hysterical laughter bubbling from your chest as he dug his fingertips into every ticklish spot he could find. You kicked and scrambled to try to scoot away from him without success, his hands darting rapidly between your sides, belly, underarms, ribs, back to your belly…

“ALRIGHT! W-WAIT! S-STOP! I’LL SAY IT!” you begged, your muscles so weak from laughter now you could no longer fight back, lying there on the floor as he drove you into madness. At long last, he finally released you, moving away to kneel on the floor beside you. “Jeez, Loki… that was… that was evil,” you huffed, still breathless from his malicious attack.

“Maybe next time you’ll know not to mess with the god of mischief,” he warned, offering you a hand to help you sit up. “After all – now I know your weakness.” You blushed furiously, wrapping your arms subconsciously around your ribs as he deviously wiggled his fingers at you. Ready to finally go hide in your room, you picked yourself off the ground and started walking toward the door. “Don’t forget! I expect to see you in the common room when the others arrive home this evening!” he called after you. You turned and shot him one last glare before leaving the room.

You couldn’t make any promises that you’d actually show up. And if that meant he would come find you and torment you some more… well, you supposed you maybe wouldn’t mind.

Read part 2

#loki tickle #loki x reader #marvel tickle #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #tickle fluff

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 3 years

Text

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip) words: 9.7k (oops)

a/n: wow it’s been awhile since I wrote one of these!! This has been half finished for a while and i finally got the inspiration to complete it. please enjoy!! 💖

Other parts: Kuroo | Sakusa

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Being Ushijima’s roommate is fairly simple. He’s easy to get along with once you get past his jarring frankness and strict regime. Seriously, the guy never changes his routine; working out at 6am, breakfast at 8, leaving for practice at 9, home at 5, dinner at 7, and in bed by 9 o’clock. He’s a machine, but you don’t mind his predictability. It certainly makes your life easier being able to plan around his tried-and-true schedule.

You saw his ad for a roommate a few months ago when you were desperate to get out of your parents’ house and into the world. They weren’t too keen on the idea of you living with a man, but upon meeting Ushijima, they changed their minds quickly. Neither of them able to believe that stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi would ever lay a hand on you. Plus, the deal was far too good to pass up, he is seriously underselling the room you’re currently renting; and there’s the bonus that he’s frequently absent at away games, leaving the entire apartment for you to enjoy alone.

You learned quickly to keep your mouth shut on who exactly your roommate is, never inviting anyone over anymore in fear of them finding out from the various volleyball paraphernalia Ushijima so sparsely decorates the apartment with. It became difficult for you to tell if people you just met actually liked you, or if they just wanted a glimpse of the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi and maybe an autograph. And don’t even get you started on his fangirls that he’s so oblivious about.

To your surprise, he was indifferent about having a roommate of the opposite sex. You thought for sure he’d try to ‘keep your honor’ or some shit like that, but all he’d asked you was what your job was to make sure you can pay rent, if you were tidy, and if you didn’t mind being alone. He’d seemed satisfied with your answers, and you’d moved in the following week.

The first and only time Ushijima has someone over, you get home from work surprised to see an interesting looking character standing in the kitchen across from him. They both look up at you, Ushijima giving you a slight nod in greeting while a wide smile spreads across his friends’ face.

“Ushiwaka! You didn’t mention your roommate is that pretty!”

Ushijima blinks as if he’s never considered that about you before, while you chuckle. “Ushi…waka?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone refer to him in such a casual manner before.

The red-head beams, slinging an arm around Ushijima that he surprisingly allows. “Yup, me and Wakatoshi have been friends since high school!”

Now it’s your turn to blink, never having expected Ushijima to have friends outside of volleyball. Especially not ones who call him by his first name. In fact, you don’t even know if he considers any of his teammate’s friends either. He doesn’t spend any time with them outside of volleyball (that you know of) and so far, this is the first person he’s brought to the apartment since you moved in.

“Well,” the visitor nudges Ushijima in the side, who’s expression hasn’t changed throughout this entire interaction. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”

Finally, Ushijima speaks, his deep voice rumbling through your chest as he says, “This is Tendo, we played volleyball together in high school.” He doesn’t show it, but he notices your piqued interest at that information.

“Oh?” You say, “Do you still play?”

Tendo waves his hand dismissively, “Nah, it wasn’t for me. And I’m nothing compared to golden boy over here.”

You try to hide your amusement. This is definitely not what you were expecting from one of Ushijima’s friends. Tendo is rather enjoyable and chatty, much unlike the stone of a man sitting beside him.

“Tendo is a chocolatier in Paris,” Ushijima supplies.

Now you can’t hide your surprise. “Wow! That’s really amazing. What are you doing in Japan then?”

“Just visiting,” he beams. “And of course, I had to see my best friend Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Are you going to his game tomorrow?” You ask, ignoring the way Ushijima’s attention focuses on you. He didn’t think you paid much attention to his volleyball schedule besides when he’s going to be away.

Tendo nods excitedly. “Wouldn’t miss it! You should come too!”

You open your mouth to give some excuse, but then close it again at Tendo’s expectant expression. You bite your lip nervously; in the time you’ve been living with Ushijima you’ve never once actually seen him play. There’s a part of you that avoids it, fearful you might become one of his dreaded fangirls. But you can’t refuse Tendo’s invitation, and to Ushijima’s surprise, you agree to attend.

Clapping his hands together Tendo says, “We get to sit in Ushiwaka’s special seats! Maybe I’ll bring some chocolates for us to snack on…” And when he sees your eyes light up at that, he smiles again, “Chocolate for the lady, done.”

You laugh, and then Tendo is seeing himself out, telling you he can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. And once he’s gone, you can’t help feeling like you don’t know what to with yourself now. Not with Ushijima’s stare boring into your back. After a minute he says, “You don’t have to come.”

And if this had been the first week you’d known him, you might’ve taken that a little personally. But knowing him, he thinks he’s just stating something. He doesn’t see how it can be interpreted as him not wanting you there. “No, it sounds fun! And Tendo seems nice.”

“Tendo is very kind,” he states, and you have to resist the urge to chuckle at him. Ushijima is not a man of words and if that had come out of anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought they were little strange. But in the months of living with him, despite your limited interactions, you’ve gotten used to his mannerisms.

Looking away from him, you start retreating down the hallway to the safety of your room, but before you disappear you say one more thing. “Plus, I’ve never seen you play.” Then you’re gone, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You don’t see him watch you until you’re out of sight. If you had, you would’ve been shocked by his dumbfounded expression at how the small smile you gave him made his heart stutter for a moment.

Ushijima has to leave much earlier than you do for the game, but he informs you that Tendo will be by to pick you up and go to the game together. Then, for the first time probably ever, he bids you goodbye and tells you he’ll see you afterwards.

Tendo comes by the apartment a few hours later, sporting an Ushijima jersey and a box of chocolates he asks to hide in your bag. For having just met him yesterday, he easily leads the conversation, asking you all sorts of things—though he seems particularly interested in your relationship with Ushijima. You try to assure him it’s nothing. Really, you aren’t even sure if you can consider Ushijima your friend. Right now, you’re pretty much strictly roommates and that’s it.

When you let it slip that you’ve never seen Ushijima play, Tendo is shocked. “Really? Not even on TV or anything?”

You shake your head. “Nope! I guess I never thought of it.” The lie slips through your teeth easily and Tendo doesn’t bat an eye at it.

Though he does grin telling you, “You’re in for a treat then! Have you ever watched volleyball at all?”

Your regretfully admit to him that no—you’ve never seen a game. You do vaguely remember the rules from high school, but they’re a bit fuzzy now. Tendo tells you not to worry and spends the rest of the train ride to the stadium filling you in on all the aspects of volleyball. And the more he talks, the more excited you get.

When you finally enter the stadium, Tendo is amusingly proud to show off your VIP tickets to be allowed entrance to the special seats reserved solely for Ushijima’s guests. To your delight, they’re some of the best seats in the house and you and Tendo get to work on the chocolates you snuck in while you wait for the game to start. Already the stadium is buzzing with excitement and you can feel your own continue to grow.

Meanwhile, Ushijima hasn’t said a word that he has visitors today. So, it comes as a complete surprise to his teammates when a chorus of cheers erupts from his seats when he enters the stadium. He doesn’t take note of how shocked his teammates are—he’s never had any spectators before. And none of them ever expected one of them to be a girl.

“So, who’re your friends?” Heiwajima asks during warm-ups, nudging Ushijima in the side and motioning his head towards you and Tendo.

“Isn’t that Tendo-san?” Kageyama notes, his own eyes up in the stands.

Without looking upwards, Ushijima replies, “It is.”

Heiwajima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we aren’t so interested in him as we are the beauty sitting next to him.”

Now Ushijima lifts his attention, eyes drifting to you. He hasn’t told anyone on the team he has a roommate. Not because he has any reason to hide you, but there has never been a reason for him to bring you up. So, he doesn’t think much of it when he says, “That’s my roommate.” And then introduces you.

Everyone on the teams’ eyes nearly bug out of their heads at that information.

“Ushijima, you bastard!”

His brow furrows. Why is he a bastard? You’re just his roommate. And he never lied to anyone about you, nobody ever asked.

“Keeping that a secret from us this whole time!”

He ponders that. He wasn’t really trying to keep any secret. “It’s not a secret,” he says. “You never asked.”

The team guffaws at him and continues to grill him about you until Hirugami claps his hands and tells everyone to focus on the match. They’ll have plenty of time to discuss Ushijima’s secret roommate later. Again, Ushijima tries to explain it you were never a secret, but Hirugami brushes him off and tells him to start spiking warm-ups.

It isn’t hard for him to ignore you and Tendo during the game. He’s used to having nobody here for him, so he just treats it like any other day. It’s nothing special, he’ll play the way he usually does. Meanwhile, up in the stands, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You finally see why he works so hard, and maybe understand him a bit better.

He loves volleyball, you know that—but seeing him in action really drives it home. He’s a machine. Every time he serves or spikes you swear the other team’s arms are going to rip off from the force of the ball. And the sound that ricochets in the stadium when the ball connects solidly with the floor is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s like a clap of thunder rattling your bones and before you know it, you’re cheering loudly alongside Tendo with no qualms.

It’s exciting being here. You can feel your heart racing in your chest each time the Adlers or the other team is at a critical point, and sometimes you catch yourself holding your breath in anticipation for the outcome. You never thought watching a sport could be so thrilling.

And Ushijima is incredible. You suspected as much, but actually watching him for the first time is something else. You can’t help gobbling up the sight of him, his powerful thighs thrusting him into the air when he jumps, his biceps on display when his hand connects with the ball—and above it all, that sharp look in his eyes that sends goosebumps prickling down your spine without your permission. If Tendo notices you shamelessly ogling your roommate at all, he doesn’t comment.

He's oblivious to the fact he’s actually playing a lot more intensely than he usually does. Which some of his teammates never imagined possible. And most of them, besides the clueless ones alongside Ushijima, have a pretty good idea what’s different about this game. Though they can’t pinpoint if it’s just a result of having spectators in general, or if it’s you specifically.

The Adlers come out victorious after four hard sets, winning the first and second, but then having to snag the win in the fourth. You watch as the team gets swarmed by reporters looking for a post-game interview and Tendo tugs on your arm telling you that Ushijima is going to meet you by the locker room. You must give him a surprised look because he holds up the card dangling around his neck with a grin. “VIP, remember?” You giggle and follow him out.

In the locker room, Heiwajima and others try desperately to invite him, you, and Tendo out with them after the game. But he has to decline, you three already have plans. And he doesn’t wait around to see their disappointed expressions as he heads out of the room to look for you and Tendo. He finds the two of you nearby and once you catch sight of him, a smile splits your face in two.

“That was amazing, Ushijima! I’ve never had so much fun watching a sport before!” You gush once he’s in earshot.

“Volleyball is very fun.” He nods as the three of you head towards the exit. Ushijima purposefully avoids the spots he knows he is likely to be ambushed by reporters or fans, opting for a back exit instead that he sometimes uses when he wants to make a quiet escape.

“I had no idea being left-handed was such an advantage! Tendo told me it really throws people off apparently.”

Tendo sneaks him a smile and then throws an arm around his shoulder. “So, where is the great Ushiwaka takin’ us for dinner?”

You end up at a nice restaurant not too far away, and of course Ushijima gets recognized a couple times being this close to the stadium. He politely agrees to autographs and declines photos, seemingly unaware to the fact they’re just taking them secretly when they return to their tables. And while you’re waiting for your food to arrive, you can’t seem to stop talking about volleyball. Admitting that you’ll probably watch a few more of his games from home now and even cover your face in embarrassment when Tendo suggests you get your own Ushijima jersey to wear in support.

It’s then that Ushijima realizes he very much enjoys listening to you talk about what you thought of volleyball. Though he does feel heat creeping up his neck at the thought of you wearing one of his jerseys. All the while, Tendo is sitting beside you smirking up a storm, and Ushijima can’t for the life of him place why.

After dinner, when you’re walking a bit ahead of them and out of earshot, Tendo nudges him playfully in the side. “She’s pretty great, right?”

He looks at your back, expression unchanging. “She’s a good roommate.”

Tendo groans dramatically. “No blockhead—like, she’s pretty great, if you know what I mean.”

He blinks. “Do you want to ask her out?” Tendo can’t help slapping himself on the forehead. Who was he to think that Ushijima has any idea you are available, and he has a very high chance with you?

“Not me,” Tendo spells out slowly. “You.”

“I don’t want to ask her out.”

Tendo’s thin brows lift. “Are you sure about that?”

Tendo doesn’t miss his slight hesitation before he says, “Yes.”

And he doesn’t—you’re his roommate, and a good one. He likes having you around, but not the way Tendo seems to think.

But Tendo isn’t convinced. “Okay~,” he sing-songs before skipping up to loop his arms through yours and make you laugh about something. Ushijima thinks about that for a few minutes, why doesn’t Tendo believe him?

When you first moved in, it took a few weeks to get accustomed to each other. But once you figured out his schedule it became a lot easier. You know exactly when to hide in your room if you want to avoid him and when to come out once he’s gone. After going to his volleyball game, you especially try to avoid him during the times he’s walking down the hallway towards the shower, damp with sweat from a workout. Your brain can’t seem to function seeing him slick with the shine of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped around his neck—it’s too much for you, as much as you hate to admit.

But one week, you swear he’s on a warpath to make you a stuttering, flustered mess. Despite knowing the fact you’re certain Ushijima has no clue he can have that effect on people, much less do it on purpose. But every single day he’s waltzing around the apartment without a shirt on and while he doesn’t seem to see the problem with it, you don’t think your heart can take it much more.

And it’s the final straw when you see him a few days later, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he saunters across the apartment from his home gym towards the bathroom in the hallway. All while you’re standing dumbfounded in the kitchen trying really hard not to get caught staring at his enormous biceps or the way the shine of sweat accentuates the dips of his abdomen. It’s in this moment you can truly understand why he has so many fans despite his rather stone-like demeanor.

“You have got to put a shirt on,” you blurt when he’s halfway across, knowing this will turn into some dangerous territory if he keeps walking around the apartment half-naked.

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking the only indication he’s confused by your statement. “I don’t want to wear a sweaty shirt,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered expression. “I might catch a cold.”

You resist the urge to groan and slap yourself on the forehead. “Fine, then I’m wearing whatever I want around the apartment,” you say, determined to make him realize why he can’t just walk around like that. Though knowing Ushijima, you’ll never get through that thick skull of his.

And as you suspect, he simply replies, “Alright.” Before disappearing into the hallway and the bathroom to take a shower.

You lower your forehead to rest it on the cool countertop, shaking your head at how dense he really is. And you’re beginning to realize you think it’s endearing. While his infuriatingly toned body may be a major perk, you’re starting to see that you like him too. Now you actually groan. You swore this would never happen—not with Ushijima at least. But here you are.

After that, you make a pointed effort to wear the shortest shorts you can possibly find whenever he’s around. And you purposefully pair them with an oversized shirt, so it doesn’t look like you’re wearing pants at all. But if it has any effect on Ushijima, you can’t tell. You can’t help cursing his dumb impassive expression every time you retreat to your room for the night. Seriously—is he swayed by anything ever?

However, Ushijima hardly knows what to do with himself the first time you strutted out like that. He might be dense, but he’s still only human. His eyes naturally span down the expanse of your exposed legs and he has to grip his water bottle like a vice in order to keep it from clattering into the sink when you rise to your tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf. Your shorts ride up even more, hugging the curves of your ass as you stick it out to balance yourself.

You let out a surprised sound when he appears behind you, easily picking up the thing you were vying for and handing it to you without so much as a word.

“I really need a stepstool or something, huh?” You joke, taking it from him gratefully and blissfully unaware he was just blatantly staring at your ass.

He doesn’t say anything, but the next week you find a small stepstool leaning against the cabinets for you.

Staring at your phone in your hands, you thank any god listening that you brought it with you. How stupid do you have to be to lock yourself out of your apartment when you’re taking the trash out? Sitting on the floor against your door, you lean your head back on it and let out an exasperated sigh. You already went down to the office for help, they called a locksmith, and they aren’t available until tonight. And by that time, Ushijima will be home from practice and you won’t need the service anyways.

You have several options here. You could call a friend and stay with them until Ushijima gets back from practice, but they all live too far to walk to, and you don’t have your wallet. You could hang out in the apartment buildings lobby until he gets home, but if your phone dies, you’re stuck with nothing to do and no way to contact anyone.

The last option is slowly beginning to seem like your only option: calling Ushijima at practice for help. Burying your face into your hands you groan—you really don’t want to do that. Plus, you doubt he’s going to answer his phone anyways. After you sit there for a few more minutes, you take a deep breath and steel your courage. Leaving a message is better than nothing.

Despite deciding to call him, you still stare at his contact for a few moments before finally pressing the ‘call’ button. It rings a few times, then unsurprisingly goes to voicemail. When it beeps for you to leave your message, you swallow your pride and say, “Hey Ushijima, I know you’re at practice, but I locked myself out of the apartment…and the locksmith can’t come until tonight. If you by any chance get a break, would you be able to let me back in? I’d really appreciate it…sorry for the inconvenience and disrupting practice!”

Then you hang up and slump against the door again. Might as well head down to the lobby to sit somewhere more comfortable than the hallway floor. You turn the brightness down on your phone to conserve battery and resist the urge to just sit in the lobby scrolling through social media to pass the time. If he by some stroke of luck calls you back, you want to make sure your phone isn’t dead.

“Hey Ushijima, your phone was ringing in the locker room while I was in the bathroom. It was your roommate~,” Heiwajima teases. Ushijima slowly looks past his shoulder back towards the locker room door—that’s odd. You’ve never called him before. “And she left a message!” He coos.

Before Heiwajima can make any more comments, Ushijima strides past him to check his phone. They’re taking a short break and he doesn’t see a problem with making sure everything is alright. You wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. He doesn’t see the rest of the team share suggestive looks behind his back. Before you, Ushijima refused to check his phone during practice, no matter how many messages he had (which are few and far between but still).

Upon hearing your message, he calls you back immediately.

You’re shocked that he’s calling you back within a half hour of your call.

“Uh, hi,” you say upon answering the call. “Sorry for bothering you. I’m surprised you saw my message so fast.”

“Heiwajima heard my phone ringing while he was in the bathroom.”

“Lucky me,” you joke.

He gets straight to the point. “I’ll leave now.”

Your eyes widen. He’s going to leave practice right now to let you back in? “Oh—um, you don’t have to do that! I’m just waiting in the lobby; I can wait until you have a longer break or something!”

“I can come now,” he says plainly. Then he hangs up on you. You sit back in the chair you’re sitting in and huff out a breath speechless. Never once has Ushijima left practice early. And now he’s just dipping out without hesitation because you’re a major idiot? You can’t fathom it, and the little voice in the back of your head that’s been slowly falling for him is absolutely swooning at the thought.

When he enters the gym again, Heiwajima finds him immediately, while the other members of the team look curiously on as he asks, “So, what’d she want?” Immensely interested in the fact that judging from his sweatpants and jacket over his practice clothes, Ushijima looks like he’s about to leave.

“She’s locked out of the apartment,” Ushijima explains as he heads towards the door.

The team looks around at each other surprised. They don’t get another word in as Ushijima explains to the coach the situation and says he’ll be back in less than hour. Then he’s out the door and a few of them start chuckling to themselves, while the more clueless members wonder why in the world Ushijima would willingly leave.

The gym isn’t far from the apartment, so it’s not long until you see Ushijima step through the front doors and sweep his gaze across the lobby. You greet him right away and the two of you get in the elevator. The silence is unbearable for you—though you’re sure he’s completely fine with it.

When you reach the door and he lets you in, you finally say, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to leave practice though; I could have waited.”

You swear his eyes soften, but it might just be your eyes playing tricks on you. He appreciates that you are being considerate for his time, but he found he wasn’t keen on the thought of you being locked out. It didn’t sit right with him. Not when he’s only 20 minutes away. He’ll be back in under an hour, and that’s better than you just sitting out here for several hours.

He just nods his head and says, “I’ll come anytime.”

At those words, that voice inside your head becomes a pathetic puddle and it’s an effort to keep your knees underneath you.

He can’t explain the way his heart lifts at the smile you give him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, you say as you’re closing the door, “See you when you get home.”

Home.

He’s surprised how that word coming out of your mouth makes him feel.

Any feeling of domesticity is thrown out the window the morning you’re walking around the apartment in one of his sweatshirts he lent you a few weeks back when you were cold. He’s stops in his tracks in the hallway seeing you in the kitchen at the stove cooking breakfast, his sweatshirt too big for you covering your shorts and just brushing your bare thighs.

Without giving him the chance to quell it, against his will, his dick strains against the front of his sweatpants and he rushes out the door with barely a goodbye in hopes you don’t see it. It doesn’t even go away on the train on the way to the gym, no matter how hard he tries. His thoughts subconsciously drift to the sight of you and how soft your thighs looked. It’s shocking to him how much he liked seeing you in his clothes. It was the same sort of sensation he felt when Tendo suggested you get yourself an Ushijima jersey—only it’s a hundred times worse.

He tries to ignore it, walking into the locker room like nothing is wrong, stripping his sweatpants and jacket off and shoving them into his locker before he looks around and sees Heiwajima staring at him with raised eyebrows. Then his eyes pointedly look downwards before he lifts them to meet Ushijima’s again. “You wanna deal with that before practice?”

“It’s fine.” He’s sure it’ll go away once he starts warming up.

But then his thoughts drift to you warming up and stretching in his clothes. You bending over, his sweatshirt sliding up your chest, revealing more of your ass and thighs as you count to ten. And any sort of effort he’d put forth to settle down is destroyed as his shorts feel uncomfortably tight. What is going on with him? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you as of late, and it’s only been getting worse.

Heiwajima just starts laughing. “Seriously dude, nobody wants to look at that all day.” Then he motions his head in the direction of the showers.

Ushijima’s eyes widen, realizing just what he’s suggesting. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually concedes. He won’t be able to play like this. Nobody seems to care as Ushijima grabs his towel and heads off to the showers, despite feeling distraught about what he’s about to do. He’s never really been one for masturbating, so it surprises him how easy it is to let you in his sweatshirt come to mind as he wraps a hand around his cock. And he comes a lot faster than he expects too.

That’s the first time he jerks off to the thought of you. He tries to brush it off as a necessity for him in order to practice well that day, but it soon becomes a terrible habit he can’t stop. Especially when you keep doing things that make him uncomfortably hard. Like still wearing those tiny shorts around the apartment, doing yoga in the living room, showing him your Ushijima jersey you finally ordered online—seriously, never in his life did he think this would ever become a problem.

He hardly knows what do with himself at this new infatuation.

Recently, you’ve started going out on dates because you’re beginning to feel this strange tension between you and Ushijima, and you have no idea how to deal with it besides letting some other guy pound you into a mattress while you ashamedly picture it being Ushijima instead. One night, when you’re bidding him goodbye as you’re on your way out the door, he asks you, “Will you be home tonight?”

Your heart stutters a bit at that word. Home. And then you feel disgustingly guilty that he’s noticed you don’t usually come back after these dates. Meaning you think even he can put the dots together on what you’re doing.

But really, he’s asking because what you’re wearing is already making his pants feel tight and even though it makes him feel a little ashamed, he needs to get his frustration out somewhere that you’re out spending the night with other guys. It makes him feel incredibly jealous—an emotion he’s not used to yet.

“Probably not,” you tell him, swallowing your pride about it and shutting the door.

For the next couple of hours, he tries to resist the demon in his head telling him to go sprawl out on his bed and think about you with his hand wrapped around his cock. But even after he makes dinner, works out, and takes a cold shower; it’s still there nagging at the back of his head. And he knows it won’t go away until he’s coming into his hand with your name spilling from his lips. He resigns himself to this becoming something he does now and heads off to his bedroom to satiate himself.

Your date is terrible. He wasn’t like this when you met him at the coffee shop last week, but tonight he must be feeling extra lucky. Enough to let his cocky, asshole nature shine through and you find yourself forcibly smiling your way through dinner. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is a certain stone-faced, stoic, gentleman who’s just sitting there waiting for you at your apartment. And just the thought of letting this guy touch you tonight makes your skin crawl. So, once the dinner is over, you end the date short, blaming it on not feeling well. He looks pretty put out that he won’t be getting his dick wet tonight, but you’re not inclined to care very much.

Unsurprisingly, the apartment is dark when you return. Ushijima goes to bed promptly at 9 o’clock every night, so you weren’t expecting to find him awake. So, you’re stunned into silence when you hear sounds emitting from his room on your way to yours. It sounds like he’s…panting? Is he working out?

Your brow furrows and your curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s wrong, and such an invasion of privacy, but you just can’t stop your fingers closing around his doorknob, turning it slowly to just get a tiny peek into his room.

Your heart comes to a jarring halt at the sight you stumble upon.

Never, in your entire life, did you think you’d catch Ushijima Wakatoshi masturbating.

It never even occurred to you that is something he might do, not really seeming the type to.

And holy shit—is it a sight.

Your mouth involuntarily dries up at his enormous hand wrapped around his equally massive cock, pumping it from base to tip as his hips work in unison with his hand. His hair is a bit damp, and fuck—his cloudy, lust-filled gaze is making heat pool in your core. Additionally, he’s completely and utterly naked. Who the hell jerks off totally naked is beyond you, but you aren’t complaining as you watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple with each movement of his hips and breath he takes.

You could probably stand here watching him do this forever if you’re being honest.

That is, until your name falls from his lips.

You swear the floor drops out from under you.

At first, you think he’s caught you. But you soon realize that is very much not the case. His hips start shuddering, his pace becoming erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re suddenly struck by the thought of: you don’t want him to finish without you.

And before you can hesitate, you open his door fully and step into his bedroom.

His reaction is nothing like you imagined from someone who just got caught masturbating by their roommate who’s name not two seconds ago escaped his mouth. Anyone else would have yanked their hand away and scrambled to cover up. But not Ushijima.

To his credit, he does cover himself, but he does so in such a calm manner, you’re shocked. Plus, you can see he clearly still has his hand around his cock beneath the blanket. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, and after what seems like eons of silence, he opens his mouth and says, “You said you weren’t going to be home.”

Your brows raise, amused he’s chosen that as his defense. “I think I said, ‘probably not’ actually.”

His expression doesn’t change as your gaze drifts downwards towards his impressive erection that somehow has not gone away despite that he’s lying there in all his naked glory caught red-handed.

You lick your lips subconsciously. “Can I help you?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Nor was he expecting the way his dick twitched in his grasp at your words. Or how heat is spreading across his entire body at the way you’re looking at him. Is he really going to let this happen? He’s pretty embarrassed you caught him, but you don’t seem phased at all. To him, you almost look…excited.

You don’t really wait for him to respond, taking the way he eyes you up hungrily as a yes, and stepping further into the room. Tentatively, you start lifting away the blanket he covered himself with, and he seems to be in a daze as you toss it aside, baring him for you to see. Glancing up at him, you see he’s breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide as he watches you—and while he may not be able to tell you with words how he feels, his body is telling you enough.

But you still want to make sure. Settling yourself between his thighs, you set a hand on each of them and squeeze lightly to get his attention. His olive gaze rises to meet yours and you ask, “Is this okay?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Yes.”

And if you know Ushijima at all, he means what he says.

You get yourself a bit more comfortable between his legs, chastely kissing each of his thighs, finding it immensely ego boosting at the way they tremble at your touch. You make your way to the base of his cock and lick one stripe up to the tip. He groans quietly at the sensation, realizing his hand will never be enough again.

His fists curl into the sheets beneath him as you take his head into your mouth, and you fail to suppress the quiet groan that emits from you at how heavy he sits on your tongue. Your mind immediately wandering to what he might feel like inside you—if this goes that far, that is. His eyes haven’t left you, watching you intently as you take more of him into your mouth, the weight of his heady gaze making heat pool between your legs.

Steeling your confidence, you hold his stare as you take nearly all of him into your mouth and start bobbing along his length. A barely audible hiss escapes him, the muscles in his arms straining with how hard he’s fisting the sheets. Yet, you still have his rapt attention, and it makes you want to make him feel so good he has to close his eyes and lean his head back against his pillow.

The thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi a puddle beneath you makes your thighs clench together. An action that surprisingly doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

In a matter of minutes, you’ve made him throw all qualms out the window and you soon get your wish of seeing him let go. His eyes close, head leaning back revealing the strong column of his neck, and his hips start to move in tandem with your bobbing motions. A guttural groan escapes him when you hollow out your cheeks, and the sound rumbles through you before adding to the growing ache between your legs.

You can’t imagine he’s even close to reaching the end of his stamina, but you are certainly losing patience. So, you pop off his cock, and start making the motions to undress so you can finally fulfill your fantasy of riding him.

He startles you by lifting himself to rest on his elbows, his deep voice filling the silence, “Wait.” You pause, your dress already halfway off. He sits up and pulls you into his lap, completely unbothered by the fact your clothed core is now sitting directly atop his prominent erection. “Let me,” he says so softly you think you might combust.

His hands replace yours, and he gingerly unzips the back of your dress and starts sliding it off your shoulders, each inch of newly exposed skin met by the soft press of his lips. You have no idea if he’s ever been with anyone before, but whatever he’s doing is making your insides scramble and burn. His movements are slow and meticulous, like he’s savoring each touch are you’re positively melting in his lap.

Eventually, you have to stand up to shimmy the dress down your legs, but he sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently before his large hands rest at your hips and pull you back into his lap. Now you’re looking down at him, so you lean down and press your lips against his.

He’s somewhere else entirely—heaven, maybe, as you kiss him. Your lips are soft, body pliant and warm against his as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. He groans involuntarily when your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting his head so you can kiss him even deeper. You’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue darts out questioningly and you happily open your mouth for him.

I’m doomed, you think as his tongue sweeps in at the same time he uses his hands at your waist to grind you down onto his hips. He feels absolutely huge beneath you, and you have no idea if he will even fucking fit inside you. “Fuck…Wakatoshi,” you breathe. His fingers grip a little harder at your voice saying his name like that, but you’re too dazed to notice what it does to him. You continue, “Fuck me, please.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to comply with your request. Instead, he murmurs, “Not yet.”

You almost pout, but then he’s unclasping your bra and lifting you to set you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste much time ridding you of your underwear next, and you have to resist the urge to cover yourself as he stares at you with a near predatory look in his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, clear as day and you feel heat course through your veins at his words.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him right now. The intensity of his wanton gaze making you squirm beneath it until he lays his body over yours, the comforting weight of him pressing against your skin as he takes your lips again. He elicits a moan from you, his fingers dancing along your sides and his tongue sweeping into your mouth, making you nothing more than a trembling mess underneath him.

His lips leave yours, but he slowly begins trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone; almost as if he’s worshipping every inch of your skin before he reaches your breasts. He takes both of them into his enormous hands, the callouses of his fingers scratching along the supple flesh, making your back arch into his touch. Pressing a chaste kiss to your sternum, he rolls your nipples between his fingers, all while keeping his steady gaze on you. And you have no idea how the simple action of him just teasing your nipples while pinning you with those olive eyes is so unbelievably erotic your head begins to feel light.

And then he takes one of them into his mouth and you about lose your goddamn mind. How the fuck does he know exactly what to do? In the time you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him be even remotely interested in anyone. But at this point, you’re well past the point of caring how he learned his way around a woman’s body.

His tongue laps at the pert bud, all while he keeps his meticulous pace on your other nipple before turning the attention of his mouth to it. Without thinking much of it, your fingers dive into his hair, curling into the strands as he continues his worshipping. Though it does pull a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest that goes straight between your legs.

“Wakatoshi,” you pant breathlessly, chest heaving, desperate for him to do something about the growing ache at the apex of your thighs.

This time, he seems to heed your words. He pops off your breast and wanders with his lips down the expanse of your stomach, his hands finding purchase at your hips as he settles himself between your thighs. Your thighs tremble in anticipation as he presses soft kisses to each of them, fingers kneading your hips and pulling you closer to his mouth.

Never in your life did you think you’d have Ushijima Wakatoshi between your legs, looking for all the world like he’s about to devour you.

He groans as he slides his tongue between your folds, drunk on how wet you already are. And despite the fact his cock is throbbing almost painfully and leaking on the sheets, he knows to take his time. If you want him to fuck you, he has to make sure you’re ready for him.

You throw your head back, fingers fisting into the sheets as a lewd moan escapes your throat that only makes him bury his face even deeper into you. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves at the apex and sweeps across it, moving in small circles that have you finding purchase in his hair to keep him there as you move your hips in unison with his tongue.

A loud gasp fills the air as one of his thick fingers enters you, the ministrations of his tongue not stopping as he slowly pumps it in and out of your core. He’s kept his attention on you this entire time, his gaze never wavering as he watches you fall apart at his mercy. And he finds he’s thoroughly pleased at how easily his finger slipped into you, enough that he tentatively prods another one at your entrance that after a moment slides in without any resistance.

It’s so satisfying that he buries his face even deeper, his tongue pressing harder against your clit as you fuck yourself on his fingers. At the sensation of his second finger, your own find purchase in his hair, babbling utter nonsense that if you were in a clearer state of mind you might be a little embarrassed about.

“Please,” you beg, desperate for his cock inside you, “fuck me Wakatoshi. I want you inside me.”

He nearly falls apart at your needy request, but he isn’t finished yet.

You continue to plead with him, until you abruptly feel the absence of his tongue and you look down to find him staring intensely at you. Your throat clams up at his smoldering gaze as he says simply, “You aren’t ready.”

Your mouth drops open as you blink in surprise. Is he joking? Are you not frantically fucking yourself on his fingers right now, desperately asking for him to be inside you? How can you possibly be anymore ‘ready’?

“What are you talking about?”

Now his eyes drop, and very quietly he murmurs, “I’ve been told I am…quite large.”

“By who?” You blurt.

All he says is, “Others.”

You decide to leave it at that, your attention traveling to his erect cock, it pulsing so hard you can almost see it and dripping from the tip. You swallow nervously trying to imagine that going inside you. Ushijima just watches you eye him, his two fingers still knuckle deep in you, which he seems to have forgotten about as he angles his head in question. “Do you want to keep going?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his concern. “I would very much like to,” you reply, smiling innocently at him, despite the fact the position you’re in is very much the opposite of innocent.

And the answering small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter. It’s so soft and dazzling, it nearly knocks all the breath out of you. He presses his lips to your inner thigh, smiling against your skin, and all you can do is stare in awe of him.

Then, as if remembering where is fingers still are, he drags them slowly out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit once again before sliding them easily back in. Soon, he’s got you writhing on his fingers once more, toes curling and your own fingers gripping onto his bicep you can feel flexing with each thrust of his hand.

He waits a bit longer, until his fingers are soaked with your wetness again, before tentatively prodding a third finger at your entrance. He stifles his groan against you when he finds that it slips in along with the others effortlessly. Particularly as the grip you have on his biceps tightens, nails digging into his skin and eyes flaring open at the new sensation.

“Fu—fuck,” you mewl, holding on to him for dear life as he continues his slow and methodical pace. At this point, you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers, wanting him to fuck you deeper and trying to match the pace at which his tongue is flicking against your clit. The sensation becomes overwhelming, your thighs starting to tremble with the effort to not come around his fingers and mouth.

“Wakatoshi, please—I’m going to—,” you try to warn him, nails digging so hard into his arms that you’re leaving small crescent indents in his skin. He doesn’t stop though, not until you’re practically sobbing, “Let me come on your cock, please.”

That seems to be his undoing. His fingers and mouth abruptly leave you, eliciting a small sound of discontent from you. But you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of him leaning over you, aligning his hips with yours, one massive hand palmed around his cock as he pushes forward.

When the head of his cock sinks into you, a strangled gasp rips from your throat at just how utterly massive he is. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him from going any deeper as you say, “Slow.”

His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if it’s taking all of his willpower to keep from snapping his hips forward and sinking to the hilt in you. “Of course,” he growls, his voice taking on a deep tone that makes your toes curl.

And inch by glorious inch, he pushes deeper into you. His forearms coming to rest on either side of your head as he takes your lips to distract you from him nearly splitting you wide open. You tug him closer, fingers tangling in his olive hair, slanting your mouth against his and slipping your tongue inside which he gladly allows.

Eventually, his hips meet yours, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his toned chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he has to take in order to keep his sanity. The feeling of your tight walls clamping down around him is enough to make him hiss through his teeth, “Shit.”

The word alone makes heat pool in your core. Ushijima Wakatoshi never swears.

“Holy fucking shit.” You correct him. He’s seated fully inside you and you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. Your legs splayed out to either side from just how big he is, and once glance down confirms his thick thighs are shaking with the effort to be gentle.

He just shakes his head at your crass words, then pulls out slightly before ramming his hips back into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you, your chest meeting his and his head finding the crook of your neck and he begins slowly. And while you’re very much enjoying each of his careful, deep thrusts, you very much would like to be pounded into his mattress. You’re certain he can.

You wonder if he’ll dirty talk with you.

Running your fingers through his dampening hair, you whisper against his ear, “You feel so good, Wakatoshi.” He merely responds with a kiss against your neck and a small approving growl that makes you keep going. “You know what I thought about anytime I was in someone else’s bed?” He makes no indication whether or not he likes you talking to him, so you press on. “This,” you murmur, “You.”

He stops, and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. But then he rises from your neck, and you swear to god—you almost come on the spot at the carnal glint gleaming in his eyes. Like he is about to utterly and completely destroy you. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation as he finally draws his cock almost all the way out of you before driving his hips home in a way that sends you into total euphoria.

His pace becomes brutal, his hips punishing, wordlessly making you realize it was a mistake for you to ever think anyone but him should be between your legs. It was pure luck you stumbled onto something you didn’t realize—he was immensely jealous every time you came home in the morning, clearly having spent the night with someone else.

It drives him so wild that he growls against your lips, “You’re mine.”

The words are so deliciously possessive, you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him, nor how your legs wrap around his waist and start helping him with each thrust of his hips.

“Yours,” you say, lips brushing against his. His hands wander down your sides, fingers digging into your hips pulling you even closer so that there is virtually no space between your bodies. He’s resting almost his entire weight on you, and his warmth and build is so strangely erotic, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and you can feel your impending orgasm begin to climb.

He cages you in his arms, hips never relenting, seemingly chasing his own release. His quiet grunts of pleasure are going straight between your legs, and you can’t help but start exploring the expanse of his exquisitely toned chest pulling an even deeper sigh from him making you almost melt on the spot. Your hands eventually find a place to rest in the dimples of his hips, relishing the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your fingers.

He refuses to finish before you, no matter how unbelievably tight you’re pulsating around him. So, he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pride filling his chest at how you moan lewdly; your head falling back and fingers grappling even harder onto his hips. He takes the opportunity to press kisses to your throat, shoulders, collarbone—any expanse of skin he can get his mouth on.

“Fuck—yes,” you groan, hands leaving his hips to weave their way into his hair, using your legs to push him even deeper and meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You start quivering under him, your body preparing for the onslaught of pleasure rising in your chest, threatening to snap at any moment.

You come completely undone when Ushijima commands, “Come for me.”

Something about his husky, lust filled tone; his lips making their mark all over your skin, and the harsh thrust of his hips sends you over the edge. Your body bows off the bed, and Ushijima meets you, his arms wrapping around your middle to press you against his chest as his lips latch onto your neck and he buries himself to the hilt in your wet heat.

For the second time tonight, he curses quietly, holding you to him as your walls pulse with your orgasm and he finds his own release alongside you. You hold on to his shoulders for dear life as waves of pleasure roll through you, your body spasming in his grip all while he kisses you softly. It’s tender and erotic at the same time. As you start to calm down, he claims your lips, tongue sweeping in as you push his damp hair off his forehead before cupping his cheeks.

He pulls away from you, only to set his forehead against yours, your warm breath mingling. Both of your chests are still heaving, and although it’s silent, it’s comforting as he holds you.

After a moment, you open your eyes and find his closed, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. It fills your heart seeing him look so…content. “Wakatoshi?” You say quietly. His eyes open and your throat closes at just how handsome he is. “I…I like you.” Your eyes close now, embarrassed at how pathetic that sounded.

“I’d hope so.”

Your eyes burst open finding him looking at you comically seriously. You know he doesn’t mean it as a joke, but you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. He gazes at you curiously as you ask, “And? Do you like me?” As if his softening dick isn’t still inside you right now.

Though, it still makes your heart flip when he replies without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Good.” You grin. “I’d hope so.”

You kiss him again before he finally pulls out of you and without a word, he gets off the bed and disappears out into the hallway. You grimace at the mess between your legs but are pleasantly surprised when he returns with a warm towel to clean yourself up with. While you deal with the mess, he rummages around in his drawers and at first you think he’s looking for clothes for himself, until he hands you a pair of his briefs and a t-shirt.

You must eye them curiously because he sets them on the bed saying, “Sleep with me.” He doesn’t word it like a question.

Taking the clothes, you smile teasingly up at him. “I just did.”

To nobody’s surprise, he’s relatively unfazed. “Overnight,” he explains further. “In my bed.” Though the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks as he says this makes you want to smother him with kisses all over again.

You slip on his clothes and climb beneath the sheets as your response. You watch him dress, marveling over the muscles shifting in his back and arms until he covers them and joins you in the bed. He draws you close to his side, letting you run your fingers across his cheek before settling at his chin and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss lazily until you both grow tired and you tuck your head under his chin, letting his fingers intertwine with yours and enjoying the affectionate kiss he presses to the top of your head.

He surprises you when he says into the silence, “Are we going to do that again?”

The chuckle that escapes you is by no means meant to be mean. He just fucked you better than anyone in your entire life and if you were in deep shit falling for him before this—you’re doomed now. Yet, you don’t mind in the slightest. Not when being here in his arms feels exactly where you should be.

So, you kiss his neck and reply softly, “Yes.”

You don’t see his answering smile.

taglist: @bobawithpomegranate @anothermessedupbitch @abswrites @toorus-goodgirl @apollochjld @vicassa @sssjuico10

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi reader-insert #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader-insert #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu!!#ushijima wakatoshi imagine #ushijima wakatoshi scenario #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagine #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

#connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x you #aot x y/n #connie springer x you #connie springer x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk smut #snk x you #snk x y/n #connie x you #connie x y/n

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tinyyoungblood · 3 years

Note

don’t be shy,

post sum of those drafts

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

a/n: you asked and you shall receive. here are very random scraps that i pieced together and somehow it worked lol enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the avengers on long bus rides

long bus rides are the only times where the world is balanced and at peace (forced smile from steve)

it’s also the only times when everyone will chime in on those sea shanties that steve loves so much, so that’s a plus

the team knows that their captain is a sea shanty WHORE so they always go all out for him and do harmonies and quite impressive choreos

once they’ve run out of sea shanties, they switch to musicals and it’s kind of like football jocks meet theatre kids

everyone has their troy bolten moment at some point, but it’s loki who really shines

he gets really passionate and ends up singing all parts and no one can blame him because mans got the voice of an angel and he knows it

nat is super supportive and cheers him on while recording everything. no one questions why she has a folder on her phone that is called “blackmail material”

tony likes to show his support by throwing money at loki

the others reenact that scene from harry potter where harry tries to catch hogwarts letters falling from the ceiling although there are loads of them perfectly lying on the floor

they fight tooth and nail to catch the money with a ferocity that puts the gods in shame

peter shoots his webs to pin the dollar bills to the wall like he suddenly got a lifelong supply of them and clint acts like his arrows are made of harmless rubber

rhodey joins in, puts on his suit, and almost blasts happy ✨to death✨while trying to catch a one-dollar bill

happy swerve the bus off a cliff and someone screams

(it was loki)

wanda has to save them and proceeds to bench them all for an hour

bucky, friend to no vehicles, is grumpy the entire time but y/n has made it her temporary calling to cheer him up

“i don’t like vehicles and this is why” *y/n whips out a duffel bag and slaps it* “yea, well, but what are your thoughts on sudokus”

bucky curls up in the back like the senior citizen that he is, sandwiched between y/n and bruce with a lifelong supply of sudokus scattered around him

they quietly help each other out and it’s very wholesome

tony and peter can fall asleep anywhere on the bus with their necks and limbs turned at all kinds of unnatural angles and sam winces before tearing his eyes from them

he makes a mental note to buy them neck pillows

nat suggests playing ‘i spy’ because it seems less lethal than the yellow car game but clint, sam, and thor get way too enthusiastic about it

they have their faces pressed against the window, eyes wide and unblinking, unaware that they’re frightening half of the people sitting in the passing cars

at some point, they lose all sense and just randomly name everything

“i spy with my little eye something that is red” “that car” “no” “that car” “no” “clint’s sweater” “it’s not—” “bucky’s pen, the flowERS, MY SHOES, THE SKY”

rhodey and nat are surprisingly good at that game and their calm demeanour drives the others insane

“fine. i spy with my stupid little eye something that is amber—” “bottom left button on the inside of loki’s overcoat, try again”

wanda and vision are in charge of lunch and handing out lunch boxes to everyone is a delight to them and a very. scary experience for the rest of the team

“here you go, buck. a turkey sandwich with cut off crust and extra tomatoes” “oh you didn’t have to cut off—” “😠but you like it. don’t you😠” “...yes”

peter and y/n are sharing a seat and y/n shows him her online purchases on her phone. peter is really sweet the entire time and comments on everything with genuine interest until rhodey pipes up from behind them

“you ordered new shoes? y/n, you don’t even go outside enough to justify wearing shoes”

they shush him and proceed to share headphones to listen to peter’s current favourite songs

at some point, tony announces, “alright ladies and gentlegerms, cap is making us stop the bus so we can get out and go for a two-mile jog through the woods *unenthusiastic jazz hands* if anyone wants to fling us off a cliff again, now is the time, i repeat—”

they still end up running and it’s insufferable. it’s hot and musty and just ~unpleasant~

somehow the avengers have evolved into a chaotic Debate Team and now they’re discussing who gets to be carried by thor and bucky

at an intersection, the two of them stop to catch their breath and they’re both just staring at each other, sweaty and covered in avengers hanging off their limbs

thor, prying loki off his back: “i’m sorry but we’re gonna have to do something different here”

y/n is hopping off bucky’s back when there’s suddenly a loud, ugly sound reverberating through the forest, followed by many footsteps that seem to come closer by the second

they run

branches keep tearing at their skin as they bolt through the woods but they’re not stopping because it’s clear what is happening right now

they’re being chased by wild boars

at this point they’re just embracing death and if they survive it’s a bonus

a boar comes running towards bucky and wanda but bucky “i have been falling for 90 years and i’m sick of it” barnes stares it straight in the eye, daring it to knock them over and the boar just squirms and make a u-turn

another wild boar seems to have decided that clint is not part of the herd because it sends clint FLYING in a quite impressive and beautiful arc

steve tries to ditch clint and train the boar

clint wasn’t hurt by the fall, but he stares at steve as if he might as well have broken a rib

they’re back on the bus and happy cocks a brow when he sees that everyone is exhausted and covered in dirt. he chooses to say nothing when nat climbs in with loki half-leaning on her for support and glaring broodily at the floor

everyone just wants to sleep and forget that the avengers were almost defeated by boars but bruce and sam keep bickering in the front row

“it’s too bright in here” “it’s the sun” “the lights get too noisy” “…what” “make it stop” “what do you want me to do?? turn off the sun???”

peter and y/n are huddled in a seat again, sharing headphones to drone out the noise and the moment he hits play, y/n looks at him blankly

peter, shrugging: “what? my 7 songs still go hard”

* * *

what are your seven songs that still go hard? pls tell me bc i desperately need new music <3 stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Falling for you ( Falling from Grace) Jungkook x OC

Summary : Friends with benefits? Or maybe Enemies who just happen to be each other’s best fuck? Areum and Jungkook love driving each other crazy, but also can’t keep their hands off each other.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“A two hour lunch break and a limp? You’ve been busy , I see.....” Hobi remarked mildly , when I slinked back to my desk, thighs still shaking .

I winced when I sat down, glaring at him.

“I sprained my ankle....” I snapped, internally cringing at the ridiculous lie.

“While riding his dick? How did that happen?? ” Hoseok rolled his eyes and before I could pretend to be properly outraged he continued, “ No matter.... i want you to compile those memos from last week and write up the report for last week’s meeting. The minutes are in the file.”

I didn’t particularly enjoy my job or hate it. It was just something I did to make money and I was fine with that. As a kid I’d had some vague dreams of being a photographer and while I did occasionally take my camera out to click candids of my family or the occasional cherry blossom tree, it wasn’t a major component in my life.

Or at least, it hadn’t been, for the two and half years I’d worked here. Right about the time I started sleeping with Jungkook. I stared at the screen, feeling myself drown in the redundant words. It wasn’t that I didn’t imagine a life with Jungkook.....but... I wasn’t sure if we would work well, as a couple. I had never been on a date with him , never met each other for anything that didn’t end in mutually ( enjoyable ) orgasms and just.... most of the time we did piss each other off incredibly.

But I could feel the clock ticking....I wasn’t really a co ed anymore, was I? There was more to a relationship than just sex and ... I wanted it. Of course I did....

I couldn’t spend the rest of my life doing this with Jungkook. But I couldn’t for the life of me, imagine not doing this with him.

And in the wake of that thought came the thought I had always avoided.

What if I could have both? What if I could have the dirty , raunchy , mindblowing sex , along with the Sunday brunches, picnics in the park and skinny dipping in the pool at midnight?

What if, possibly, Jungkook could be the one I had dinner with on a Friday night? What if he was the one I woke up to everyday, made pancakes for and with, smearing flour on each other’s noses as we chased each other around the kitchen in our PJs?

Fuck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook was busy for a couple of days with his training and I couldn’t get a chance to meet him . On the day before his supposed match, he told me he wanted to ‘unwind’ . Would I be kind enough to join him for the night?

I agreed,

My phone buzzed, just as I stepped out of the shower. I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous contact name that Jungkook had probably put in himself.

From Hungkook

You have an appointment tonight m’lady.

An appointment to ride this dick.

On my terms.

You’re gonna stay over right?

I scoffed at the last bit., When had it ever not been on his terms?? I ran the towel through my hair before carefully coating my fingers with lotion and threading them through the damp strands.

~~~~

From me,

When did you change your fucking contact name , dickhead. Yes, I’ll stay over and we’re meeting at 7.00 PM right?? Will you pick me up?

~~~~

From Kook,

Wasn’t me.... must’ve been you subconsciously. Don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about how big I am, all the fucking time.

I’m still setting stuff up. Get a cab. Or I can send my chauffeur if you want?

~~~~

From me,

No. I’ll drive myself over.

~~~~

From Kook,

Wear something easy to take off. c u.

~~~~

Jerk, I thought fondly. Staring at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly vulnerable. I wanted to talk to Jungkook about us. And I would.... eventually. When I felt ready enough....

For tonight, I would indulge him. .

I had gone the extra mile today, soaked in the tub for a whole hour so my skin was completely imbibed with the scent of strawberries and cream, with little whiffs of lavender. The body scrub had done its job and my skin fairly glowed, plump and soft.

I decided to forego makeup, only putting on the barest minimum : some gloss and a moisturizing spray. I grabbed the short kimono style dress from the closet, slipping it on without anything underneath.

I stared at myself from all angles, just to make sure I was still decent. Not that it would matter. Jungkook’s condo had a private elevator that no one but he used . Perks of owning the entire apartment complex , I guessed. I hesitated before rummaging through the small jewelry box I kept hidden in the back of the closet.

It had a small necklace, the only gift I’d ever accepted from Jungkook. I stared at the small , pendant : a small heart with the words, JK’s engraved on it. It had been a gag gift, meant to aggrieve me during one of our ridiculous spats. But i traced the words and wondered why the prospect of belonging to him didn’t feel quite as infuriating as it used to .

Slipping it on, I quickly grabbed my wallet and keys.

Well, time to get this show on the road. ‘

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook opened the door, freshly showered, dressed in a white linen shirt, a few sizes too big and opened half way through. As always, a glimpse of his gorgeous face was all it took for arousal to pool in the pit of my stomach. I smiled at him.

“Hi.” I grinned.

He stared at me for a second taking a deep breath.

“Jesus, you smell fucking delicious....What is that?” He groaned, grabbing my wrist and tugging me in. I followed him to the dining space, blinking when I saw the two small glasses of wine.

“Ooh...fancy. Looks like you’re looking to spoil someone tonight. “ I teased.

“Yeah, just had my girlfriend over. You must’ve run into her on the way up.” He winked and I shook my head, laughing as I grabbed one, taking a small sip.

“So....? Should we get started....”

Jungkook hummed, grabbing the satin ribbon tie that held my dress together and tugging on it gently. I kept my eyes trained on his face , just so I wouldn’t miss the look on his face when the fabric fell apart.

He didn’t disappoint.

Doe eyes widened in shock, lips parting in a sharp little exhale as he stared at me, completely naked in the golden spool of light, cast by the small chandelier overhead.

“Oh fuck.....is that...?” He lightly pulled the pendant at the base of my throat, staring at the inscription.

“Thought it may turn you on....” I shrugged. Jungkook’s eyes ran up and down my body and I felt an inordinate thrill at how open he was with how much he enjoyed looking at me, even though it was far from the first time.

“That’s my biggest weakness, darling......I’m always turned on for you...” He grinned , winking.

“So should we go open that toy box of yours?” I prompted when he stepped closer.

“Hmm... Not like this. “ He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and off his torso before carefully slipping it on me. “ I can’t concentrate if you’re standing here without clothes on.”

The linen shirt, big on Jungkook’s broad frame , practically swallowed me up, hanging somewhere near my knee. I watched the way his pupils dilated when he stared at me.

“Fuck... you in my clothes.... This may be worse than you being naked...” He said, sounding slightly strangled.

I flicked his forehead playfully.

“I’m beginning to think you’re just stalling.... ” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Nope, just thinking of a couple of drawings I could make with this particular shirt on you.”

I felt my insides quiver as I remembered the art and the very enjoyable time I’d had seeing all of it.

“If you hurry up , I may model for you. “ I said casually and Jungkook froze.

“Better not joke about that, Areum...” He said harshly.

“Well, what if I’m not?”

“Are you?”

“Only one way to find out.” I smiled, yelping when his arms shot out, wrapping around my thighs and throwing me over his shoulder as he stalked over to the bedroom.

I whined because his shoulder blades dug into my tummy , feeling slightly dizzy from all the blood rushing to my head.

I stumbled a bit when he set me down , blinking to orient myself. I stared around at the room, my throat going dry.

The bed was covered in satin sheets in a rich shade of burgundy . The entire room was lit only from the backlight in the bedframe, low and demure as it lit parts of the bed while the rest of room stayed plunged in darkness. An ornate table stood right next to the bed with what looked like a hundred or so sex toys and I flushed red, my face heating up.

I felt my heart begin to pound inside me.

It was so foreign, this desperate sort of anticipation, something I didn’t usually feel because this was Jungkook and I knew him ....knew his body better than my own.

“Well, since you wanted to pick the toys we’d use today....”

“No.” I whispered softly.

“What?”

I turned to him , smiling before carefully walking over to the bed and climbing on. I crawled to the center before carefully sitting down on my heels, kneeling.

“You can pick.” I shrugged.

Jungkook stared at me thoughtfully.

“You’re joking.” He said softly.

“I trust you.” I replied.

His eyes widened, lips parting. He licked his lips, before tugging his lower lip between his teeth.

“Really? You trust me?” He asked, looking incredibly skeptical.

“I do. “

“Trust that I ....?”

“That you won’t hurt me.”

“Hmm... I’ve gone soft on you haven’t I? Haven’t left bruises on that perfect body in a while... “ He said casually and I felt my heart jerk a little.

Earlier in our relationship, Jungkook had always skirted the edge of too much, sometimes leaving marks and bruises that lingered for weeks after our sexcapades. And he was right...we had toned it down the past few weeks,

“Even then...You never did anything I didn’t want.” I pointed out.

He smiled.

“That’s true... my pretty little slut, you wanted every single one of those bruises, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“I did...”

“So , I can just go pick any toy I want and you’ll let me put it on you....? In you?” He prompted.

“I trust you.” I said again.

He narrowed his eyes at me before moving slowly to the table. I stared back, holding his gaze as I watched him carefully pick up something from the table.

My heart dropped when I saw the small flogger, his ivory fingers curling on the handle as he carefully, swatted the inside of his other palm with it.

“You sure you’re up for this?” He brought the flogger down on the bed with enough force to make the sheets crackle and the noise was so sharply frightening that I couldn’t help but jump a little. I flinched so bad, my lips wobbled.

He watched the way I was shaking and scoffed.

“Thought so, fragile little thing like you could never--”

“Yes.” I snapped, willing myself to stay calm. “Yes.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to mine.

“Color?”

I swallowed, trying to get my senses together. I calmed myself down, trying to think rationally instead of impulsively.

“Green.” I whispered.

He hummed.

I watched as he grabbed a small vibrator , holding it up for me to see., I shrugged,

“I told you ...I trust you. Looks like you don’t trust yourself... What’s the matter, Jeon, too chicken to be a real man? “ I whispered.

His gaze narrowed dangerously.

He moved briskly to the table and grabbed things quickly. I bit my lips as I saw the nipple clamps, the small whip, the handcuffs and the pinwheel among other things.

I pulled my gaze away from the toys and stared at him.

“If anyone can make me enjoy those things...its you.” I whispered and his eyes softened visibly.

“Fuck...don’t say shit like that....” He whispered.

I laughed a little, nodding.

“Okay. “ I agreed.

He grabbed a small strip of cloth from the table and held it up between his hands.

“I’m going to put this on you first. “

I nodded, as familiar with the thick, satiny length of it as i was with my own skin. Jungkook sometimes liked using it to tie my wrists together , especially when he intended to take his time.

i held my hands out but he shook his head, holding it up and then placing it over my eyes.

I faltered a little when my vision went black, swallowing as the scent of his bodywash hit me, his body just a few inches away and the urge to touch was so strong , my mouth watering with the urge to run to my lips all over his delectable body.

He finished tying the fabric at the base of my skull and pulled away. I felt the bed dip as he moved away.

“ Take that shirt off.”

I grabbed the hem and stripped quickly, tossing the shirt aside.

“Lie down. On your back.”

I nodded before doing just that, letting my arms rest on the side, palms facing up.

The sound of the flogger cracking through the air made me wince.

“You’ve ever been hit with one of these....” His voice came from somewhere to my right and I bit my lips, shaking my head.,

“Use your words doll....”

The nick name made me squirm.

“No.”

I jumped when I felt the soft strips of the blogger brush against my thigh, so gentle it felt like a kiss.

“Hmm.... I want you to stay quiet from now unless i ask you something and you will only say, yes or no. Got that?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

I felt like I was over heating, my body thrumming with anticipation.

“i don’t use it too often because I prefer my hands. Like bringing it down on the curve of your ass or maybe your thighs.....Nothing quite as satisfying as feeling that soft flesh give under your palm, hot and burning. And man the way the red just blooms on the surface when i pull away....addicting.”

His fingers closed over my thigh and squeezed.

I jerked a bit.

“It hurts at first....but it also feels good. A good , fiery burn that makes you feel alive .... that makes your skin thrum with life....and after the tenth hit, the pain is so numbed down that your mind only experiences the pleasure ..... “

I bit my lips to stop myself from saying anything.

“The pinwheel is what really hurts.” I felt the sharp prick of it on my cheek, and i jerked back a bit., “ It’s very sharp and precise....like the stab of a hundred needles on your body...I like using it between the thighs....You know, right on that swollen little nub in the middle.... usually makes the girl lift right off the bed....”

He chuckled .

I was panting a bit, every word translating into a phantom touch on my body. Although he was only saying it, my body seemed to experience it physically.

I felt the air shift around me, and then the familiar press of him body on mine, my arms instinctively shooting up to grip him as he straddled my waist, his hands grabbing my wrists and yanking them away. He pushed my hands up against the headboard, and I felt his breath right against my neck, feather light kisses that traced a path up to my ear and then he gently blew air against my earlobe.

“And man, the vibrator is my favorite.” His voice was low and deep, whispering dirty, right into my ear and I clenched around nothing, feeling wet and empty as he went on, “ I’d leave it right up against your clit while I eat you out, two of my fingers fucking into your sweet little cunt, tongue lapping up that sweet , sweet slick of yours..... Fucking delicious , makes me want to bury my face into it.... fuck.....baby, i could eat you out for hours.... “

I choked out, struggling to get my hands free, desperate to feel him, desperate to feel him inside me .

“I would eat you out so good but I wouldn’t let you cum.”

I felt my heart drop.

“Please Jungkook-”

“Uh-uh-uh....Nope...” Jungkook muttered.” Don’t want you begging so soon baby.,... we haven’t even started yet...Didn’t I tell you not to say anything till I asked you to? What's the matter baby, you like hearing what I want to do to you? Doesn’t it make you wet...make you want to fuck yourself on my cock?”

I bit my lips, trying to regulate my breathing , bucking up into his hardness as he rolled his hips into mine. I kicked out , trying to dislodge him, just a little bit so I could feel him where i wanted and he grunted when my heel hit his shin.

I whined when his fingers tightened on my wrists, hard enough to make the bones grind together. Pain shot up my forearm and I whimpered when a hand wrapped around my throat, gentle but with the threat of force behind it.

“Stop fucking wiggling and listen to me. “ He snapped and I froze.

“If I eat you out.... turn the vibrator up, and then tell you to not cum till i ask you to.....Can you do that?”

“Yes.” I sobbed out,

He grinned.

“Really baby? No protests? You’ve never let me edge you before....I wonder what’s changed?” He whispered.

“Trust you.” I whispered and his breath caught again.

“You trust me that much?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me when I say if you cant hold it off...if you cum without my permission, well....that’s when I’m gonna get the fucking whip.”

My body screamed in protest at the very thought of it.

“Well? “ He demanded, squeezing down on my throat just a bit. “ Still trust me?”

I felt the first gush of tears, feeling my heart thud against my ribs. All i could think about was Jungkook’s face when he’d held me that day, when Junho had hurt me. The way his eyes had flooded with tears at the sight of me hurt and it was absolutely laughable....the idea that Jeon Jungkook would somehow choose to hurt me voluntarily.

“Trust you.”

For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t move either.

“Should we get started then?”

“Okay.” I whispered.

I felt a pang of loss when he moved up and off my body, and I blinked against the blindfold, trying to ground myself. Fear and arousal made me disoriented , my mind struggling to decide whether I was enjoying this or not.

I heard the crack of the flogger again and screwed my eyes shut.

“You ready?” , the bristles traced up my leg, from my feet right up to the top of my thighs.

I took a deep shuddering breath.

“Yes.”

I bit my lips, bracing myself for the hit.

It never came.

Instead, all i felt was the gentle brush of lips against my brow, and then against my cheek, soft, feather light kisses , peppered across my jaw and down my neck. I gasped as his lips parted slightly, opening and closing on the soft skin, suckling gently for just a second before his tongue followed, soothing the slight sting.

I licked my lips , gasping when his fingers fluttered up and down my arm, so gentle that I wanted to cry.

“I like the idea of taking you apart...., having you tremble with anticipation because you’re scared of what I’d do next , but you know what I like more, Areum?”

Fingers lightly gripped my wrist, pulling them up till my hands rested on his shoulders.

“Jungkook?”

“I like it when you touch me. I like it when you’re trembling, not because you’re scared or worried but because you’re feeling good....because I’m making you feel good.”

I smiled despite myself.

“Can i touch you?” I whispered.

“You don’t ever have to ask...” He breathed against my lips, and i surged up to kiss him. Letting my fingers drop down to tug at the hardened length of him. I ran a finger over the tip, mouth watering at the mound of precum leaking out of him, enough for me to get my palm wet , so I could stroke him without any abrasive friction.

He growled , rolling over me and nipping sharply at my neck, before pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Gonna eat you out. “ He growled and i grinned.

“No vibrator?” I teased and he grunted, already crawling down my body.

“Don’t need it.... Gonna make you cum just with my tongue.”

I let my head fall back against the pillows as he grabbed my hips, lifting my waist up before shoving a couple of pillow underneath.

“Bend your knees and spread your thighs for me angel.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my ankle and I nodded quickly, doing just that. I dug my heels into the soft sheets.

“You want to me to get the vibrator?” He bit my thighs lightly and I jumped.

“Not really....” I breathed out .

Warm wetness closed over my center and I gasped, fingers reaching down to grip his hair .

“Gonna ride my face , baby?” He laughed against my slit, tongue tracing the seam with soft little kitten licks and I groaned.

He lost no time, slipping two fingers straight into me, parting them in a V and licking into the gap, tongue pushing into me with the kind of ease that came from doing something you loved, something you enjoyed doing.

Pleasure shot straight up my spine rendering me boneless, my limbs turning to jelly as he used his thumb to gently run circles on my clit, all the while licking into me, tongue curling inside me, pushing against my walls and lapping up the wetness like it was the sweetest drink he’d ever had.

And nothing was a bigger turn on than how much he seemed to be enjoying it and i found myself falling apart embarrassingly fast. I felt my thighs start to tremble and Jungkook hugged against me, slipping another finger in, the fit now tight and I whimpered when he curled his fingers inside me, fingers tips reaching back to nudge the spot the usually sent me spiraling off the edge.

“Don’t want you to cum yet,....hold off for me.... “ He whispered suddenly, squeezing in a fourth finger and I blacked out when my orgasm hit before I could even try to stop it, clenching down on his fingers so tight that he couldn’t even move them , my muscles screaming as I gripped the duvet under my fingers.

“I ....” i couldn’t form words.

“Thought I told you not to cum.” He said softly, somewhere over me.

I swallowed.

“You... You did it on purpose ...you... fuck...”

“Did what on purpose...” He was laughing a little, and I mewled a little when his fingers rubbed on my clit again, thumb dipping into me playfully.

“Told me to not cum just before you.... Oh fuck” I choked out when he slipped his fingers right back in, and my body screamed in protest , the overstimulation making my eyes water.

“Sould i get the whip as promised?” He laughed and I froze.

“I would let you, you know. “ I said softly.

He didn’t respond but he did draw his fingers out of me. I let my legs drop down to the bed and waited for him to say something but he didn’t , so I continued, stammering a bit.

“It’s not the kind of thing i would want in general...” I admitted, “ But I didn’t like half the things we do now, once. You’re... you’re my kink.” I chuckled, feeling a bit like i was laying myself bare .

“Areum...”

“Its you...anything that makes you feel good is what makes me feel good... I love the way your eyes darken when you tie me up...The way you always want to hold me down with a little more force than necessary and the way you sometimes , purposely leave me handcuffed in a way that makes it hurt..... and its not because I’m a masochist or because i love pain but i just... I like doing it for you. “ I admitted.

I waited for him to say something, and the silence made me nervous. Had I said too much? Had I made him uncomfortable? Oh God, did he think it was too weird?

I opened my mouth, ready to apologize for making things weirds, but before I could , the blindfold came off and I blinked , confused to see him hovering over me.

“I...” He looked like he was shaking.

“Jungkook?” I asked, confused, hand reaching up to grip his cheek, concern blooming inside me because of how scared and terrified he looked.

“You.... You...What you said...” He was definitely shaking,

“I’m sorry.” I said softly. “ I didn’t mean to imply I didn’t like it..I just want you to know that I’m open to doing new things with you and you don’t have to hold yourself back......”

"Fuck .,.. Areum.. I...” He closed his eyes, laughing a little.

Genuinely worried, I brushed my thumb across his cheek in worry.

“Hey...what’s wrong?” I asked gently.

His eyes fluttered open and he stared right at me.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He whispered.

My breath got knocked right out of my lung and i gasped out loud, my mind turning to complete mush.

“I-uh...whu-buh???” I said intelligently and he laughed.

“Fuck.. i didn’t... I didn’t mean to blurt that out.. I...”

I grabbed him before he could move away, tugging his gorgeous face closer to mine.

“Did you mean that?” I croaked out, my voice raw from shock.

He stared at me doe eyes wide and open and so damn vulnerable.

“Uh...yeah.. I... “

“you stupid fucking bastard...” i choked out, raising myself up to capture his lips with mine. He groaned as he kissed back, lips opening beneath mine and tongue slipping into my mouth with the practiced familiarity of a thousand kisses behind us ad it was so amazing, how incredibly new and exciting this felt, when we had done it so many times.

I found myself grinning into the kiss as I slipped my fingers into his hair, tugging on the thick dark locks , to pull him away for a second.

“Can i take you out on a date?” I panted and he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah.... Yeah... you can.”

I smiled and bit my lips, tears spilling out before i could stop myself.

“I love you so fucking much...” I whispered and he brushed his thumbs across my cheek, wiping away the dampness.

“So fucking sappy.....” He said fondly. “ Now , tell me....can I fuck you....?”

I shook my head.

Jungkook’s face fell, lips jutting out in a pout and I pressed a finger against his lips when he began to protest.

“You can’t fuck me....but you can make love to me. If you even know how.”

His gaze softened.

“I’ve always made love to you Areum.... I may have been rough but I never had anything but affection for you when I touched you.”

I couldn’t help but trace my fingers over his features, taking in the handsome curves and ridges of his face.

“ I know...but I’d still like to do it gently. Sometimes.”

He nodded.

“Anything for my gorgeous girlfriend.” He pecked my nose.

My heart leapt right up at that.

I could get used to being called that.

I wrapped both my legs around him, drawing him closer.

“How do you want it?” He whispered.

“Just you... inside. “ I rubbed my nose against his as he nodded.

He barely let me catch my breath before lining himself right up against me and sliding right in and this time, I got to hold his gaze as he slid home, saw exactly how it affected him, how pleasure hit him, hard and fast as he sank into my warmth.

“Oh fuck...” He whispered .

“Fuck me slow.... like you have all the time in the world.” I demanded, slipping my fingers in his hair and gripping hard and he grunted, gripping my waist and squeezing hard enough to bruise .

“ As you wish.” He moved his hands up to shape my breasts, thumb brushing my nipples till the nubs perked right up and I groaned when he bent over and took one of them into his mouth, all the while sliding in and out of me at a tortuously slow pace.

"I'm glad we skipped over the part where we deny our feelings.." I whispered against his lips and he grinned.

"I've never denied shit. If you remember..... This whole sex only business was entirely your idea....I asked you on a date two years ago...."

I flushed.

" I thought you were mocking me."

He shook his head , gripping me close and rolling us over so I was on top. Taking the cue, I dug my knees into the duvet and gripped his shoulders, biting my lips at the new angle .

" No , You thought I was a fuckboy..... I wasn't and I knew that I would have to work hard to prove it to you. "

"Prove that you weren't a fuckboy?"

"Prove that just because I liked sex doesn't mean I don't care about anything else.....Prove that, yes, I wanted to fuck your brains out but i also wanted to hold your hands and lick ice cream off your nose...." He rolled his hips into me and I moaned.

“Well, thank you for that. Point taken . “ I choked out.

He hummed and jugged the chain on my neck, fingers lightly tracing the inscribed JK’S.

“ So this is official?” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

“I belong to no one.” I said loftily and he responded my moving his hips just a little too harsh on the next thrust, making me yelp in surprise.

“This feels good...” He kissed the tip of my nose.

“Nothing like good old vanilla sex after a heartfelt confession. “ I hummed.

“But just so you know, we are definitely. playing with my toys someday.”

I gave his ear a sharp tug.

“Stop ruining the moment and fuck me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE : See.... not a smidgen of angst to be seen anywhere :D :D :D Please leave feedback I’m thirsty for it :’(

taglist :

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@jincentvangogh

@unicornbabylover

@ggukkieland

@yoongisdragon

@aamxxrii

@brooky95

@apollukee

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #bts au #bts smut #bts fics #bts scenarios #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook friends with benefits au #bts smut fic #bts fanfics

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bokunosimpfiction · 3 years

Text

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

“Hey, babe.”

“I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

“We’re over.”

You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

“So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

“Who are you?”

She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

“What happened to my guardian angel?”

She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

“Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

“So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

She turns to you. “When I what now?”

“Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

“Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

“At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

“I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

“His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

“Do you kill us?”

She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

“Like setting his car on fire.”

“I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

“Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

You can’t formulate words.

“Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

“You did that!”

“They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

“Is Jesus real?”

“I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

“One more.”

“It better not be stupid, darling.”

“What ice cream should I get?”

Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #dimitrescu x reader #demon dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil x reader

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

Train Cars and Sun Spots - Kaminari Denki

—/—

You think he’s beautiful.

A disarming, reckless sort of beautiful as he barrels into the train, jumping headfirst through the doors just seconds from closing. He erupts into a flurry of fidgeting as he skids to a stop, one hand patting down his wild blonde hair and the other dusting off his sweats. It’s like he can’t sit still. Like he’s got an itch in his skin that’s shifting his weight around, balancing on one foot and then the other- rinse and repeat as he grabs onto the handrail above his head for stability.

Another second passes and then he’s pulling a plastic water bottle from his bag, twisting it open and crinkling the plastic. It seems to you that that he’s trying to make as much noise possible, but then you notice his headphones. They’re black and yellow, undeniably playing at full blast in his ears. You then decide it’s much more likely that he just can’t hear himself- that he somehow doesn’t realize how much of a scene he’s making in the otherwise quiet train car.

You find it a little refreshing, him seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You’d been riding this train for weeks now, to and from school, and you’d seen the same people day after day. The same old businessmen and their same old brief-cases and their same old silence. Not him though- never him and his noise. You were sure you’d remember hearing someone as loud as him.

Still, you try not to stare.

Although, you suppose, it wouldn’t really matter. He probably wouldn’t be able to pick you out of all the other people staring. It’s like he’s got the entire train car arrested and staggered; all eyes stuck on the strange boy who was moving far too much for a 7:00AM commute.

Shifting in your seat, you balanced your book higher in your hands. You hoped that by just barely skimming your eyes over the top, hiding inconspicuously behind the pages, you could look and not be noticed.

You were wrong.

When you glance over at him, he’s already looking at you. He’s got eyes like molten gold, and when he smiles they crinkle closed into happy little slits. That smile is easy and unrelenting when he pushes away from the handrail, hands shoved into his pockets as he nears.

“Hey there!”

His words are friendly, but god, if his voice isn’t loud. You wince, beginning to think that you’d severely underestimated the volume of his music. You’re sure now that it absolutely must be bursting his eardrums.

“Oh-“ He looks sheepish. Then he’s yanking the headphones from his ears, and dropping into the seat next to you. “Too loud, right? Sorry! Didn’t realize.”

You’re stunned.

At first, it seemed unbelievable that this conversation could’ve arised from just a single glance; but then you look a little closer, at his shifting eyebrows and his grin that’s colored shades of flirtatious and it’s a little more believeable. You realize quickly that’s all it ever would’ve taken with him- A single look.

“I’m Kaminari.” He announces confidently, your silence not deterring him in the slightest. “Kaminari Denki.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, hi?”

“Hi!” He greets again, and then he’s pulling that same water bottle from his back. It’s crinkling and half-empty and he’s extending it to you. “Want some?”

It’s in the way his eyebrows wiggle, the mischeivous glint in his eyes- you can see his intentions plastered across his face. The water bottle’s just a front for an indirect kiss. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book.

You want to roll your eyes, but then you look at him again. At his bright eyes and long lashes and shaggy hair falling softly over his forehead. He’s the sort of pretty that gives a lot of second chances- you were no exception to that rule.

“No thanks.” You laugh, easily dazzled by his sunshine smile. You raise a palm to push the bottle away. “Keep it to yourself, yeah?”

“Aww, but you’re too cute not to share with!”

The line rolls off his tongue smooth and easy, and you’re sure now- Kaminari’s a flirt. A shameless, brazen one dripping honey between his words as he fluffs his hair. It’s all a little too natural, a little too practiced. It takes only seconds, and you know definitively that you’re far from the first girl he’s offered his water to.

He’s still cute though, if only in a fleeting way, so you decide to humor him. It’s not like you’ve got anything more pressing to attend to.

“Mhm. And just how often do you use that line, huh?” You ask, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I-“ He starts, but then he’s slouching into the seat laughing. “Yeah, maybe not my best work. Meant it though.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“No, really! I did!”

You look at him again.

Kaminari’s straightened himself, eyes earnest and smile kind as he gazes back. He’s fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt, idly twirling them between his fingers. It’s a human gesture. Unrehearsed and unpracticed and seemingly only for your eyes. You begin to wonder if that’s his real tactic- coming on strong just to melt into warm, sun-soaked softness.

“Alright. I believe you. Maybe.” You say. “But you’re on thin ice, Kaminari.”

“I’ll take it!” He fist-bumps the air. “See normally, I’d be totally crashing and burning by now!”

“So you are admitting I’m not the first girl you’ve tried that on?”

“What I- Okay. Yes? Maybe?” He laughs nervously, hand once again twirling his sweatshirt strings. “In my defense, I’m not the smartest guy, alright?”

“Nor the quietest either.”

“What?”

He’s got his head turned, cocked to the side as he blinks slowly at you. You think he looks like a confused puppy.

“You practically screamed at me when you said hi.” You tell him easily, letting an amused smile crawl across your lips. “Kinda thought I was being yelled at for a second.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry! Really! I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. Can I give you just a little advice, though?”

“Sure?”

“Don’t scream at the next girl and then immeadiately offer her something to drink. That’s generally pretty suspicious.”

You watch the light leave Kaminari’s eyes and then he folds in his seat. He snaps at the waist, dropping his face into his palms and letting out a theatric groan.

“God, I messed this up.” He whines, peeking at you through his fingers. “Messed up real bad, didn’t I?”

“A little,” You laugh. “But it’s alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re good.”

He smiles then, so relieved and happy and just downright giddy that it nearly blinds you. It’s the kind of smile that makes you think he swallowed the sun; like rays of light were bursting through the tiny gaps in his teeth.

“So, what’s your name then?” He asks.

“L/n Y/n.”

“Y/n. Hmm, I like it.” He sighs happily. “Pretty.”

“That’s my first name.”

“I know.” He grins, all pearly whites and crows feet. You think he’s got a dangerous smile- one that lets him get away with anything. “Figured we’re close enough for that, right?”

“I’ve known you for two minutes.”

“Hey, 2 minutes, 2 hours, 2 years- who’s counting?”

“Me.”

“Okay, well good then.” He snickers. “Because I’m like, really bad at math- Wait. Shit. Should I have told you that?”

“Probably not.”

“Man, I am bad at this.” He whines. His knees knock into yours when he throws himself back into his seat. “It’s not my fault, alright? Usually I never get this this far with girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Mhm. Cute ones.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes, only so forgiving. “Really laying it on thick, huh?”

“For sure. My stop’s next so I gotta make sure you actually like me at some point in the next few minutes.”

Something evil slithers into your mind, and you’re smirking when you turn toward him. There’s just an inkling, a tiny little theory in your head, and you want to test it.

“Who said I didn’t already like you?”

Kaminari jumps, his cheeks reddening by the second. There’s nothing cool or composed about him and your theory is confirmed.

Kaminari is a dork. A massive, massive, dork desperately pretending to be a cool guy.

“I- what? You like me?” He asks excitedly, voice rising higher. “Seriously? Like, actually?”

“Sure.” You giggle. “You seem pretty harmless, all things considered.”

“That’s- is that a compliment?” He asks playfully, squinting his eyes at you. “Because harmless wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“Oh, so you were trying to creep me out?”

“No!” He shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushing as he laughs.

You giggle too, unable to help yourself. Kaminari really is cute, a lot more so when he’s not recycling tired lines.

“You’re mean.” He smiles something small and pleased. “I like it.”

Suddenly the train car jolts, brakes squeaking and squealing as it skids to a stop. You rock forward with the force, and Kaminari knocks his shoulders into yours. When you look at his face, he’s got that mischevious glint back in his eyes, as he bites down on his lip. A second passes and then he touches his shoulders into yours again.

“Really sorry.” He smirks. “Bumpy ride, you know?”

You roll your eyes again, but you are actually feeling a bit charmed. He’s got a sneaky way of buttering people up, you realize- of somehow weaponizing his own embarrassment.

“But I actually do have to go.” He stands, and then he’s pressing his hands together and winking. “I’ll see you here same time tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know, are you gonna yell at me again?”

“Absolutely! Gottta yell at all the pretty girls, you know?”

“Stop.” You laugh, blushing. You nod towards the doors. “I’ll be here, but go. Door’s gonna close, you dork.”

Kaminari nods and then he’s shoving his headphones back in, still crinkling that water between his fingers. There’s nothing quiet about him as he leaves and you come to think that maybe that’s how he really gets you- it’s not with lines or indirect kisses or grace, it’s with air that seems uncomfortably vacant when he leaves. It’s with the vaccuum he leaves behind.

You watch the doors close after him, but he’s stops on the platform, shooting you a thumbs up through the window. There’s a goofy grin plastered across his face, wide and sunny and brillant. It’s the kind of smile that leaves you wondering if Kaminari knows just how brightly he shines.

When the train kicks into motion again, you’re smiling too, rubbing your eyes as you blink away the sun spots he left behind.

//—//

jus a lil somethin for denki,, as a ~treat~,,, may or may not turn this into a tiny lil series we’ll see :))))

#bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x reader #kaminari x you #kaminari x y/n #denki x reader #denki x y/n #bnha fic #mha fic

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mudhornchronicles · 3 years

Text

maroon | din djarin

gif posted by sledposting

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: all the fluff, soft!din but then i said sike... angst, mentions of death and violence, also mentions of... sexual encounters?

a/n: lowkey wanna make into a series, but idk if someone has done this. if so, i do apologize.

masterlist

“You best learn how to weave, girl. A husband wouldn’t be caught dead wearing tattered clothing, let alone a Mandalorian riduur.”

“You must wear much more layered clothing. A Mandalorian riduur wants a respectable woman at his side.”

“Learn these recipes and maybe you’ll find yourself a Mandalorian riduur.”

You’ve grown tired of hearing this every day, but you sit back and simply nod. Mandalore may have not been your birth planet, but they took care of you after your father and brother both fell valiantly in battle. You were on your own after that. Your mother was not a Mandalorian, she was originally from Naboo. When your father was called back to Mandalore to assist in the ceremonial trials, your mother decided it was time she left. She said she was promised a tranquil life with the clan of four on Naboo, but the creed had to be followed. You have not heard from her since you were 7 years old.

Now as you’ve come to an age of maturity, you were being trained to… be a wife?

You sat back and obeyed the elders wishes, but you knew that their rants were not true - not in the slightest. Your father never depended on your mother to do anything for him. Because of that, he taught you how to defend yourself and be independent. Although your father was devoted to The Way, he did not want you to swear the creed. Not because you were incapable, but because he did not want you to go through life with the restrictions that the creed entails. Even if you wanted to rebel against your loving father’s wishes, you were not able to be properly trained nor swear the creed at such a late age. So, you were content with being a member of the Mandalorian culture as a civilian.

You sat at a table that the elders reserved for the women who taught young ladies how to sew, heal, cook, and take care of the warriors in training. Whether it was a torn cape or a sparring injury, you were there to help. You always believed you didn’t need to be there as you already knew how to do it all, but the view made up for it. The table was set up on the outer boundaries of the sand pit they called a sparring arena. You got to see young Mandalorians train their bodies and minds by lessons taught by the elders. As many Mandalorians came and went, your eyes were always set on a specific foundling you met many years ago. You sympathized with that warrior when you first noticed his colored armor. You had a crafted bracelet in a similar color – a deep red, a maroon to be precise.

All Mandalorian armor was painted, but each general color had deeper meaning. For example, blue represented the reliability of the warrior, green represented duty, black represented justice, and grey or silver represented mourning.

Red represented the honoring of a parent or leader.

You watched as the two warriors, one in green armor and yours in the maroon, sparred while the other Mandalorians watched and rallied around their fighting brothers. After 10 minutes, the maroon pinned the green down and was declared the winner. The elders at your table clapped and you can’t help but smile and cheer along.

As the noise settles down, you ask to be excused from the table and wait for their approval. Once the oldest member examines your finished shawl, she excuses you for the day. You clean up your yarn and needles, place them and your newly knitted shawl in your basket, and thank them for the day’s lesson. You turn and notice the maroon armored figure standing with his brothers as a new pair of Mandalorians prepare for their turn at combat.

You walk over and stand next to him, basket in your left hand and proceed to place your right hand on his pauldron. He looks over at you and tilts his helmet as he acknowledges you. You mouth a simple hi and a small wave, not wanting to distract him from the scene in front of him.

“Hello, cyar’ika.”

You smile as he turns and holds your right hand in his left. “How was today’s lesson?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes and letting out a small laugh. “Oh you know, learning what I already know. The usual.”

He chuckles at your visible annoyance at the uniformed program you’re practically forced to attend. “Are you finished or are the elders letting you breathe?”

You just can’t help but always smile at every word that comes out of his mouth. “I’m very much finished for the day. Are you?”

“Yes, Paz and I were just asked to demonstrate a sparring technique. Would you like to go for a walk?”

You nod excitedly. He gives your hand a light squeeze and asks you to stay where you are. You watch him as he strides over to one of the elders watching over the training session to what you assume is asking for permission to leave. The elder simply nods and goes back to observing the trainees.

Your Mandalorian leads you to an escarpment not far from the main town – not far by speeder bike that is. You both called it our place. As far as you both knew, no one had known about the place. The ground is scattered with sand and cracks, but the pair are protected from unwanted visitors by an oddly bent acacia tree and nothing beats the view. The capital can be seen far out in the distance, seeming small and faded. You looked down from the cliff to the ground below. You took notice that the ground had small traces of grass while the trees began to dry and then to your luck, you spotted a strill dragging the corpse of a fanned rawl back to its pack.

You step back from the edge and walk back to the tree. Your beloved unclips his cape and places it on the ground for you both to sit on – despite your countless protest about getting it dirty and tears. He proceeds to take a seat in the middle of his cape and places his hands on your waist. You take the hint and take a seat on his lap. He wraps his arms around your body and lay on him and he leans back on the thick trunk of the tree.

You quietly stay like this for what feels like hours, just holding onto each other. You two rarely get alone time anymore as his training has begun to be much more advanced. More advanced means longer training hours and longer training hours mean less time with you. Mandalore has nineteen hour days and the elders now have him train for six which means you barely get to talk to him and he barely gets to breathe.

You change positions to lay on the ground with your head on his thighs. He starts to play with your hair, but suddenly lets the strand of hair go. He leans over to grab your hand. He begins to play with your fingers and places his palm straight onto yours just to feel how different his hands are from your own. He did always say he loved your hands – soft and caring.

He loves holding your hand. He loves caressing it. He loves playing with them. He loves how they look when in his.

When you’re in the safety of your home, he blindfolds you and loves it when you play with his hair.

When you make love, he loves when you run your hands down his chest and on his biceps as he thrusts up into you. He loves when you grip his arms while you’re riding him and he brings you close to euphoria or when his body is over yours and your hands press down on his back to beg for him to go deeper.

He’s gone a long time without having gentle hands touch him. You were the first person he let touch his bare hands since his parents died.

His helmet tilts over to you and you look up to him. He sits and stares at you and you unsuccessfully stifle a laugh. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta.” He says quietly. So quietly you feel as if it wasn’t meant for your ears.

You situate yourself onto your knees and cradle the side of his helmet in one hand and hold his own hand in the other. “I love you too, Din. More than anything in the entire galaxy.”

You’ve been in a romantic relationship with Din for five years and you’ve heard those words a total of seven times. You savor every time he speaks them as it sounds like utter bliss to you.

“Ner kar’ta, I- I’d like to gift something to you, but I must know something first.”

“You can ask me anything, cyare.”

“I know I don’t tend to express my feelings and you may be thinking this is going to be a negative talk, but I promise it’s not.”

“I know it isn’t, my love. Even if it was, you’re not going anywhere.”

He chuckles at this and he nods. You know this is serious when his visor isn’t on your face.

“Mesh’la… Do you wa- Are you sure you…” he stops and clears his throat. “Cyare, do you plan on wanting to be stay? With me? I know we never talked about this, but I just thought it was time to bring it up.”

“Are you asking me if I want to stay by your side for the rest of my life, Din?”

He nods.

“Din, love, of course I want to be with you. We’ve only touched the surface. There’s so much left to do. You still haven’t given me a piece of your armor, we haven’t done a riduurok, and we haven’t raised warriors! You aren’t getting rid of me!” you joke.

He stays silent and you begin to think you may have gone too far. He opens one of his pouches on his belt. Your mind is saying he pulled out the blindfold he always carries for you to kiss you, but your heart wishes it’s something else.

Your heart wins.

He offers you a necklace. It consists of a maroon colored beskar ring clinging to a chain – his beskar. Before he can say anything, you jump on him and wrap your arms around him. He laughs and gives you a squeeze.

“I had a speech prepared, but I’d be very happy if I didn’t have to read it,” he sarcastically says. You can’t stop the tears running down your cheeks as you shake your head while you tell him he doesn’t have to. You know what he’s going to say and you know he’s going to stutter and shake. You know how much he loves you. You don’t need to hear him say it as his actions spoke volumes.

“I knew you didn’t lose your buckle to Paz! You rather lose me than your armor!”

“Don’t be dramatic. I’d rather lose my sponsorship then you.”

You playfully shove him. “Di’kut.” You grab your drink from your basket and take a swig from the cold liquid.

“Cyar’ika, w- would you like to marry me? Right now?”

You almost choke. You look at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“Is it too soon?”

You shake you head. “No, no it’s been five years. The elders probably think we’re crazy.” You both share a laugh. “But, if you’re ready Din, then yes. I’d love to marry you right now.”

He stands and helps you up. He grabs the chained ring and places it around your neck. You look down and the ring falls beautifully next to the other necklace you wear, a nexu signet - your father’s clan. You reach up and bring his head down to yours as you connect your foreheads together. As Mandalorian culture states, the warrior must begin the riduurok and every phrase must be said by each to be vowed.

Din’s hands are shaking, you can feel them. He clears his voice, but it does little to stop it from cracking.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus d-dar’tome”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome”

“M-Mhi me’dinui an”

“Mhi me’dinui an”

“mhi ba’juri ver-“

You feel his forehead leave yours and you open your eyes. You follow his gaze and your heart sinks. Far out in the distance you see imperial ships slowly coming through the clouds. You see bright red light coming from the capital and you begin to panic. You know he has to go fight. As much as you don’t want him to, there’s no debate.

You both run to collect everything. He stops to look at you.

“Ni ceta, ner kar’ta. I promise that I-“ you stop him and bring his forehead down again.

“It is your duty to Mandalore, Din. I know you’ll protect us and you’ll come back to me. Promise me you’ll fight with everything in you. I can’t lose you too.”

“I promise.”

With that you pack the speeder and ride back into town, although as the war begins, you wished you had just taken Din away and ran.

Blaster shot after blaster shot. Dead body after another. The cries of children and the screaming of mothers trying to find their babies.

You hear a Mandalorian usher women and children into life-ships, each with two Mandalorians escorts. You get rushed closer and closer to one when you catch Din in the corner of your eye.

You run to him as you hear your name being called out by the other women. Din sees you and tackles you down. He pins you against a wall yelling at you to get into a ship and go. You put your hands on each side of his helmet. Both of you are crying wishing this was only a nightmare.

“Din, please promise me you’ll find me. Promise me you’ll make it out of here and come back to me. I can’t live without you. Please promise me.”

His visor is trained on you as you hold onto each other tighter than ever. “I promise I’ll find you and when I do, we’ll properly marry and I’ll take you far away from here so we can start our own clan. Ner kar’ta, I promise you this with my entire being.”

A promise sealed with a keldabe kiss. He runs with you towards a ship. You both ask escorts where the ship is going. No one knows. You try running out of the ship, but Din only pushes you back in. You hear him tell you how much he loves you before he jumps off the ship right when the ramp starts to move. You sob as the ramp closes until the view of your maroon-clad love is completely gone.

Little did you know that the war zone you had just witnessed was the fall of Mandalore and the last time you’d see the love of your life for many years to come.

update (1.1.21): Part two to Maroon has been posted - Saguine

mando’a translations:

riduur = spouse, husband, wife, partner

cyar’ika = darling, sweetheart

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you

ner kar’ta = my heart

mesh’la = beautiful

riduurok = love bond, specifically between spouses - marriage agreement

cyare = beloved

di’kut = idiot

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde. = We are one whether we are together or apart, we will share everything and we will raise our children as warriors.

ni ceta = i’m sorry

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #maroon

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