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luv4fushi · 11 months

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HEYYY🦅

I really likes your megumi drabble. HE SO CUTE😭😭 i kinda wish you write more megumi 🩷

megumi fluff (?) and angst at your service! sorry it took FOREVER i had 478274 exams these past few weeks ughhh sorry & ily thx for the req ~~~

he likes me, he likes me not

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

all megumi fushiguro does is apologize when he rejects you. everything changes because of your confession.

content: angst, fluff if you squint, all characters aged up to 17-18!!!, misunderstandings, confessions, eventual relationship!, megumi is so bad at feelings, ooc megumi a little sorry, takes place at jujutsu tech high school and shibuya has NEVER happened so life is good, yuji and nobara are your besties

wc: 5.1k

click on my masterlist for more!

“i like you.”

for a moment, the world stills. everything comes to a halt.

megumi is sitting across from you at your favorite cafe, just down the street from tokyo jujutsu high, the school you’ve been attending for nearly two years now.

in that short amount of time, you’ve grown into a person you think the past you would’ve liked. you’re taller now, more fit and lean. you’ve got bounds of experience from your missions piled on your shoulders, the unwavering burden of being a jujutsu sorcerer making itself at home.

you’ve grown in other ways, too. you’re stronger now, you’ve got a good hold on your emotions. you haven’t seen your parents in months, but the sting doesn’t hurt anymore. you’re wiser. older. you’ve got a handle on your feelings.

then there’s megumi fushiguro.

oh, how enamored you’d been.

he’d spared no glance when he first met you. you had trudged into the classroom, eyes darting at the unfamiliar faces. gojo satoru, the undeniably handsome teacher of yours, introduced you brightly albeit the low energy of the room.

you had weaved your way into the jujutsu world, just as you had been able to slither your way into the lives of your newfound friends.

but megumi, oh, megumi fushiguro.

it had taken you laborious months to befriend the raven haired boy. his uninviting attitude hindered your relationship with him for some time, and you had half-heartedly decided to pursue something else, but your near death experience during a particularly difficult mission with him had sent him reeling. he had held onto you the entire time you cried for your mother.

you don’t talk about that day. he doesn’t mention it, either.

“what?” his eyes, dark blue, blink in surprise. his lips are parted slightly. “what did you say?”

your throat constricts. then, the words flow: “i’m in love with you.”

love. it’s too strong of a word. you’re not even quite sure what it means, or if what you feel is actually love.

the cafe begins to bustle with life again. the barista from behind the counter steams some milk—almond—and she glances up at a customer approaching. the music from the overhead speakers filters it’s way softly into your ears. it’s a cheesy love song, and you can’t help but feel like it isn’t the right time for that.

“are you serious?” he says, almost spitting out his drink.

“i mean,” you shrug, “yeah? i wouldn’t bring you all the way out here to fuck with you.”

he blinks again. his lashes flutter perfectly. it’s annoying how perfect he is. there’s a slight hue of pink to his cheeks, but not enough to confirm anything—just speculation.

“i’m sorry,” he begins, breathing it out all in one go. “i’m really sorry.”

if you’re being honest with yourself, you’d seen it coming from a mile away; megumi fushiguro is different. he’s got the composure of a brick wall. the perpetual frown on his face never, ever leaves, not even when he’s with you. he doesn’t crack, doesn’t shake. his soul is hardened from things that he’ll never speak of with you.

“it’s okay,” you say, but it’s not.

you’ve changed—grown into a person you’re proud of, but you’re still stuck sometimes. you’re still a pushover. still just a small shrimp in the vast ocean. still apologizing for your existence.

“i’m sorry,” megumi repeats.

you know he’s apologetic, that he really means it, just from the way his brows furrow slightly. you know him too well for your own good. you don’t think he can say the same about you.

“it’s fine.” your voice breaks. you duck your head in embarrassment. rejection has never hurt you this badly. “you don’t have to apologize for not liking me back. it’s not your fault.”

you wonder why you’re comforting him when he’s the one who has ripped your heart out completely.

“i’m gonna head back,” he mumbles out, hesitating to reach out and dab away your tears with the napkin he’s been wringing around his thin fingers. “you… should come, too.”

you shake your head. “i think i’m gonna finish my coffee.”

he offers a smile. “you can finish mine as well, if you’d like.”

“nah,” you say, scrunching your nose through watery eyes, “black coffee isn’t really my thing.”

“yeah.” his laugh is soft, almost forced, but you can tell it’s genuine. “i know.”

oh, you think. it really hurts.

he knows.

something inside you snaps. your lungs feel itchy. your ribs squeeze. you think that it would’ve been easier to never say anything at all.

megumi leaves the store. the jingle of the bell above the frame rings through the air. you’re left with your cold cup of coffee and megumi’s cup across from you.

the barista gives you a look of pity. you chug down your drink and chug his, too.

it’s bitter.

-☆

megumi arrives to his dorm exactly five minutes after four pm. he slips off his sweater and changes into a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. his mind is blank, except for the image of your teary eyes.

he swallows nervously. maybe he’ll sleep it off.

“yo, megumi.” yuji slams himself against the door impatiently. “how’d it go?”

megumi sighs, the irritation swiftly making its way into his fatigued body. he opens the door and yuji tumbles in without an invitation.

“what are you talking about?” megumi mutters with another sigh.

“the confession,” yuji says matter-of-factly.

megumi stares. “you knew?”

yuji’s smile slowly removes itself from his lips. “…yeah? it was pretty obvious.”

“what was obvious?”

“that she likes you…?” yuji tilts his head. “and you like her back, right? so i figured you guys would be all cuddled up in here.”

megumi doesn’t say anything. the gears in yuji’s head begin to turn as he looks around the room, noticing the comfy attire megumi has on.

“you said that you liked her back… right?” he raises an eyebrow. “because it’s not a secret that you do.”

“i left.”

“you left her there?!”

“i didn’t know what else to do.”

“so you said ‘yes, i’d like to be your boyfriend’ and then dipped out on her?”

“i didn’t say yes.”

yuji pauses. he looks at megumi, then at the made bed, then back at megumi.

“for fuck’s sake,” he groans, running his hands through his pink hair. “i’m gonna go.”

megumi stands there, appalled. the door is shut harshly and the hinges squeak. he’ll have to scold yuji about that later. for now, he wants to take a nap.

maybe he’ll feel better about everything when he wakes up.

-☆

on the other side of the building reserved for dorms, yuji crosses his way into the girls’ section. it still feels wrong no matter how many times he’s made this trip before.

he meets you on the way there. you’re dragging your feet, headphones strapped on your head, and lips quivering.

“hey,” he calls out, tapping your shoulder. “you okay?”

he waits until you hang the silver headphones on your neck. they’re megumi’s, he realizes as he sees the fading stickers on the metal plate.

“hm?”

“you okay?” he asks again. his eyes scan you for any signs of distress, and he can practically see it radiating off of you.

“yeah,” you hum, “i’m cool.”

“want me to grab nobara?” he suggests with a grin.

“sure,” you say.

the sun feels hot on your back. you hate the way the school is so widespread for having such a small population.

“i can grab some ice cream,” yuji rambles. “and i’ll get us a notebook so we can write shitty things about megumi.”

you pat him on his back, but his sturdy body almost sends you flying backwards. he catches your wrist just before you fall, and he’s laughing at your expression with glee.

“you’re so funny,” he says through his fit of laughter. “you’ve gotten scrawnier. you needa eat more! i’ll get us snacks, too.”

you pout. “shut up, yuji. not everyone can be as buff as you and todo.”

“oh, todo is a whole different story.”

“tell me about it,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes. “i’ve seen him beat you up into a pulp.”

“hey! in my defense,” yuji says, his hands coming up to the sides of his ears, “i couldn’t do much against him!”

you’re nearing nobara’s dorm, which is right across from your own. you like how homey hers is compared to yours. she’s got a knack for interior design, or so she claims.

she swings the door open the moment you reach the inside of the building. you’re halfway down the hall when she sticks her head out from the frame of her room. her black roots are showing more than usual.

“how was it?” she asks once you’re close enough so that she can whisper.

you want to tell her that there’s no point in keeping it a secret. you had told yuji about your feelings far before you even mentioned to her, mainly because yuji had been your first friend at jujutsu high. megumi isn’t here, either, so there’s no reason to whisper when everyone knows.

“bad,” is all you reply with.

her eyes soften a considerable amount, an expression you’ve never seen on her face before. she takes a small breath and pulls you into her room by your arm.

you’re met with her fragrances, vanilla and strawberry—a nobara kugisaki signature scent. she had begged gojo to buy her shelves to place her k-pop albums on and sure enough, the white furniture stands proud at the far corner of the room. there are fake vines hanging from her ceiling right above her desk, where she has an organizer messily places over a few books.

“you wanna dye your hair?” she jokes, looking back at you. “my roots are coming in so we might as well dye yours while we touch up mine.”

“is orange all you have?” yuji’s nose twitches. “i don’t think she’d look good in orange.”

“gee, thanks,” you sarcastically respond.

“sorry.”

nobara clicks her tongue. “wanna unpack?”

“kinda,” you say, your body going limp once you’re at the foot of her bed. you sprawl yourself on the silky sheets and stare up at the ceiling.

“get out, yuji,” nobara demands. she doesn’t even acknowledge his downturned lips.

“i know everything already!” he whines. he shuts the door behind him with much more care than he had with megumi’s.

“still!” she insists. “i wanna have a girls’ talk.”

“i’m one of the girls.” he crosses his arms.

nobara’s shoulders sag. “fine, but you need to go buy ice cream.”

“was planning on that already,” yuji replies. he taps quickly at his phone, presumably asking gojo for his credit card.

when yuji leaves the room, he promises that he’ll get your favorite flavor. once nobara senses that his presence is completely gone, she turns to look at you.

“i’m sorry for making you confess,” she whispers. her tone is comforting, genuine, soft. she takes you into her arms and squeezes your shoulders. “i really thought he liked you back.”

“it’s not your fault,” you reply earnestly. “i chose to do it out of my own selfish feelings.”

“you can cry,” she says, patting your head. at times like this, nobara seems years wiser than you are. her touch is warm.

you bite your lower lip. “don’t wanna. i think i’ll be fine.”

“okay,” she says, and you feel her chest vibrate with the word. “you’re allowed to cry, though. megumi would’ve been a shitty boyfriend, anyway.”

all you can do is let out a watery laugh. you don’t tell her that he would’ve been an amazing lover. he would’ve taken you out on dates at your favorite places because he’s observant like that. he would’ve known your favorite foods, though he knows them even as friends. he would’ve kissed you tenderly because that’s the type of boy he is. he’s the type to love carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll lose someone forever if he doesn’t.

“i’m up for dyeing your hair,” nobara pipes up after the silence that penetrates the room. “yuji’s right, though… i don’t think orange would suit you… ha.”

you giggle. “let’s just touch up yours, yeah?”

yuji’s footsteps can be heard from outside the door when you’re a third of the way done with nobara’s roots. she complains about how long he’d taken, but there’s no real malice in her voice. he explains that he had ran into trouble obtaining gojo’s card (“i had to beg him for it!”).

the ice cream is all melted. it’s gooey and delicious and makes you smile. as you look around your friends, your crinkled eyes say more words than you ever could.

“you’re welcome,” yuji says into your ear. “you don’t have to thank us for any of this.”

-☆

the next morning comes by quicker than you want it to. you mentally prepare yourself for seeing megumi in class at eight in the morning. you haven’t made a mistake as bad as confessing your dying, unrequited love on a wednesday afternoon quite like this before.

nobara had suggested walking with you the night before, but you’d sternly told her that you could handle it. looking back, maybe you should’ve agreed with her offer.

megumi isn’t in class when you come in. he’s usually there at least five minutes before gojo starts teaching. something inside you tells you it’s because of yesterday—as much as you hate to admit it.

he walks in through the sliding doors a few minutes late, but gojo pays him no attention. megumi has privileges like that—at least, with gojo. he’s practically your teacher’s son, and though you’ve never heard of the full story, you’re well aware of gojo’s slight favoritism.

the class is short. all jujutsu sorcery classes are. they mainly consist of typical real school lessons, only because under the law, jujutsu tech is still a high school. the other, much bigger portion of class with gojo is focused on maintaining cursed energy and providing yourself with the best possible victory in battle.

when it’s over, you don’t know if you should be relieved or upset. you won’t be able to see megumi after this, assuming that he’ll avoid you for a good month or two. however, you think you’d rather die than attempt to make conversation with him.

“don’t do anything stupid,” gojo warns, signaling the end of class.

you hear yuji snicker quietly and say, “yeah, nobara.”

the bickering brings a smile to your lips. from the corner of your eye, megumi shifts in his seat.

you decide that it’s best to let the feelings marinate, as stupid as it sounds. it’s an infinitely better choice than moping around and begging megumi for a chance. you may be soft, but you’ve got pride.

“see you guys,” you announce, more to yourself than to anyone.

“alright,” yuji calls after you, “see you later.”

you can’t help but feel a little disappointed with the lack of clinging when it comes to you. your absence doesn’t seem to cause a ruckus like it does for most people. you wonder if it had been yuji retiring early; would everyone else ask him to stay a minute longer?

that’s how life is for a while.

you attend class, spar a little, and sleep. some days you go out into the city with nobara. you avoid the cafe, even though it’s your favorite. perhaps it’s because you’re still embarrassed by megumi’s rejection. on other, slower days, gojo takes you all on outings because he’s basically everyone’s replacement father.

it’s still as tense as ever between you and megumi.

the boy doesn’t make any effort to reach out. you don’t blame him, though you should. he steals small glances at you, particularly when you’re smiling and forget to cover your teeth with your hands. that’s all he takes from you, and he can’t be the only guilty one, because that’s all you give.

on this day, gojo takes you all out to the fair. it’s annual, taking place in the beginning of summer, and it’s a great way to practice forming barriers and such. the fairs always bring out a few nasty curses that need to be exorcised—the four of you are already used to being dragged out here for that sole purpose.

as if gojo knows, he sends you out in pairs. of course, you’re paired with megumi fushiguro. at first, you open your mouth to reject gojo’s demand, but you notice the way megumi doesn’t seem to care and your resolve hardens.

“it’s really awkward around you guys.” gojo pretends to act busy, flicking something from his nails. he’s got his sunglasses on and the ladies around him fawn.

“huh?” you and megumi look at him with accusing glares.

“is something going on between the two of you?”

“no,” you say almost entirely too quickly.

“right,” he drawls, a smirk forming on his face. “anyway, good luck out there. get rid of the little ones and then—i don’t know/-meet up with yuji and nobara if there are gross ones that’ll kill you.”

megumi nods. “okay.”

“this was what i was talking about,” gojo mutters as he walks off. “it’s soooo awkward…”

megumi gives you an apologetic look. “for the record, i don’t think it’s awkward.”

“it’s fine,” you say. you find that you’ve been pardoning him quite a lot. “you don’t have to lie.”

his face flushes. “i’m not.”

“i confessed to you and you don’t like me back, so there’s really no need to tiptoe around it anymore,” you rush out. “just treat me like normal. i don’t really care.”

he looks hurt, and you want to laugh.

you discover that, in those days of being alone, you’d rather megumi treat you like a friend again than be completely ignored. at least then, you’d have a part of him. at least then, he’s not slipping through the cracks of your heart, becoming a distant memory.

you want him to be anything but a memory.

“you want me to treat you like normal…?” he repeats your words. he paces himself just a few steps behind you when you begin to walk away from the conversation. “what does that mean?”

“i think you know what being friends is like,” you attempt to joke, but it comes out harsher than intended.

the fair is getting more crowded by the second. the shopkeepers are yelling out cheap deals and there are children that snake in and out of the lines of people. paper lanterns are hung at the front of tents to attract foreigners—it seems to be working because there are more people surrounding shops with lanterns than without.

megumi takes a breath. “how could i do that?”

your steps falter. “what do you mean?”

“how can i go on to treat you like normal,” he says softly, “when i know you’re in love with me?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and taste blood. “i don’t know. you’ve done it before without knowing my feelings. you can do it all over again, right?”

you look over your shoulder to see his lips part. he’s given up on the cool-guy persona. his vulnerability begins to show through the dents in his personality.

“you’re saying that you’ve liked me for that long?”

“yeah,” you admit. something about this is more freeing than you could’ve imagine. “i think i always have.”

a man shoves himself into you. he’s older with a beer belly and a scruffy beard attached to his face. he barks at you to move out of the way as he drags his young daughter through the sea of people. megumi’s warm hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you aside and closer to his toned chest.

you do your best to ignore your beating heart.

“i’m not,” megumi starts shakily, “lovable. i don’t know why you like me.”

your body goes cold. it's even worse than when he'd rejected you.

“curse,” you say, detaching his hand from your body. “i feel it around the back alley.”

the night ends. nothing is solved. you go to bed and curl into yourself.

-☆

loving megumi is weird. there’s an odd sense of comfort to it, like you’ve known him for longer than you actually have. he makes you feel safe even though he's gruff and a little mean about it. maybe that's just part of his charm, though, because it makes you love him even more.

he seems to have taken your words seriously; he starts to treat you like normal again. he doesn't avoid you anymore, and the obvious tension surrounding you two has disappeared for now. he lets you take a few of his sweaters when you forget to do your laundry and he buys you your favorite snacks sometimes.

it gets to be too much. you almost wish he'd go back to ignoring you. the grass is always greener on the other side.

summer goes by slowly. it's the prime time for bad feelings to manifest into curses. you push away your lingering feelings, convincing yourself that you've gotten over it. it's been more than enough time now, coming up on two months since you've confessed. you don't want your resentment, if you can call it that, to form any bad curses—you'd hate for them to be attached to megumi. that'd be a burden too hard to carry.

a few missions involve partnering up with megumi. gojo thinks you two work well together; there's a sort of synergy that you have with each other that is hard to come by sorcerers nowadays. you don't mind the compliments, or at least you pretend you don't.

the missions aren't difficult, but maybe that's because you've grown stronger. megumi has, too.

summer passes. it still hurts.

"you're confusing me," you whisper.

you and megumi are shopping for a surprise birthday party that gojo is forcing you guys to throw for nanami kento, a good coworker of his. you've met him more than once, and you're not really sure if he'd appreciate such a last minute party. regardless, you and megumi are tasked with finding enough balloons to fill the poor man's office.

megumi doesn't allow you to hold any of the bags. he lies and tells you that it's out of habit—nobara makes him carry her shopping bags every time they go out—but you know he's doing it just because he wants to. you're perfectly strong enough to carry a few paper bags, and he doesn't carry nobara's bags like he claims he does. megumi doesn't even go shopping with her unless yuji's there and even then, yuji holds the bags.

"sorry?"

"why are you doing this?" you refuse to look at him.

"doing what?"

"this," you say, gesturing at the two of you. "why do you act like we're close enough to do this?"

you cringe at yourself, aware of how hypocritical you're being. you had wanted this, wanted him to go back to being a friend, to treat you like he had before you went and ruined everything. why are you angry? why do your eyes well up with tears as he steps closer to you?

"we aren't close?" he asks. his arms fall to his side.

passerbys give you curious glances. he takes off his sweater, the one he always wears depsite it being humid out, and wraps it around you. the paper bags filled with confetti and paper plates are set down by your feet. he pulls the hood over your head to hide your wet eyes.

"we are," you mumble out sorely, "but not like this."

"i'm sorry," he says, and you're brought all the way back to the day you had told him about just how much you liked him.

"'s not your fault." you sound like you're trying to convince yourself and not him. "i'm being an asshole. you can forget about this."

you don't want him to feel guilty. he can't help how he feels, after all. you don't want him forcing himself to love you.

"what you said that day," he coughs out. the bags crinkle as he lifts them from the pavement. he continues, "what did you mean by 'always'?"

you squeeze your eyes shut and he pauses next to you. you can feel his soft gaze on you and you're glad you can hide behind his sweater, the cloth draping over you like an oversized blanket.

"i don't know..." you tilt your head up to look at him. he looks like the boy you think you'll always love. "i think i was doomed from the start."

"doomed?" he says, a little amused. "loving me is dooming? how sweet of you."

you need to remind yourself that he's not playing with your heart; this is how he copes—and how you cope, too. he must know you better than you had thought.

you nearly scoff. "it's because you're you. you're so good at being you that it hurts."

megumi slows. you hadn’t even noticed that he'd been guiding you down the sidewalk the entire time until now.

"i think it applies to me, too," he say quietly.

"what?"

"'always' applies to me, too." the clarification does nothing to settle your nerves.

"i don't understand," you blurt.

he gives you a look, as if to say, "really?", but he keeps talking, "i think i'm used to this feeling because it's always been there."

"what feeling?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off when i first met you. you're really stupid, you know?"

your face morphs into an irritated expression. "thanks. you're pretty great yourself."

he laughs and it sounds like music to your ears. "i wasn't finished, dummy."

"sorry."

"you're pretty... a lot more than you think you are," he admits shyly, "and i guess that annoyed me because i kept feeling all weird around you. i got used to it, i think—that weird feeling. but it's always been here. it never left."

you stumble, tripping over your feet at megumi's statment. you don't want to interpret it the wrong way, but with how he's looking at you, you can't help but maybe think that he likes you too.

"this isn't how i wanted to tell you, but," he breathes in sharply, "i don't like it when you cry."

it's awkward. perhaps a little funny, if you really look at it, but it's megumi and you can't hate him. you'll never find it in yourself to truly hate him.

nanami's surprise birthday party isn't much of a surprise. though gojo nor nanami say it, you all know yuji is a favorite of theirs, and no one is surprised when yuji says that he had accidentally revealed the party a few hours prior.

gojo has fun. even shoko, who never shows up to any of these events because of her busy schedule as a doctor, seems to enjoy herself. nanami pretends like he's not entertained, but he has on a fond smile that looks weirdly similar to the way megumi smiles. you're all old enough to party now, as gojo puts it, so it's a little less like a classroom celebration and more like a familial one.

it's the third of july, nearly two months and a half after your confession, when megumi hints that he feels the same way about you.

you don't know what to make of it.

-☆

"i like you."

you're in the middle of getting ready to go out with nobara and her favorite upperclassman, maki, when megumi tells you he likes you back. your eyes widen and the mascara you've just finished putting on smears on your lid.

megumi hands you a makeup wipe as if he's done it a million times before. (he hasn't, but he just knows.)

"w-what?" you stutter out, your breath catching in your throat.

"it took me a while to figure that out," he says.

he's flat on your bed, covering his face with his arm. his t-shirt rises with each of his nervous movements. according to the rules set by gojo, he shouldn't even be here in your dorm. he shouldn't be on your bed and listening to your playlist through your shitty speaker gifted to you by yuji.

"are you joking around?"

"what?" he sits up and turns to you, frowning. "why would you think that?"

"is this you pitying me?"

"i just," he sighs, frustrated, "i needed to tell you before i chickened out. i meant what i said the other day, you know?"

"about you getting 'used to' the strange feeling?"

he nods and then slouches back against your pillows. if it had been any other day, you would've felt shy about sleeping in his scent.

"yeah," he says, running his slender fingers through his jet black hair. "i really did mean it. i think i just—i don't know—pushed you away because i was afraid."

you've given up on applying your makeup by now. your hands are shaking too much, anyway.

"i'm scared sometimes, too," you reply, catching his eyes in the reflection of your vanity mirror.

you see the side of his lips turn upwards. he looks as handsome as ever. he's gotten older since the first time you met him, and it hits you harder now that he's on your bed, his features sharp and his body lanky and tall. there's a sort of intimacy that you sense between the two of you.

"i'm not afraid anymore." his legs swing over the bedframe and he easily reaches the ground even though your bed is raised. "i'll be brave for the both of us."

oh.

"what do you think?" he tilts his head.

you stay home that night.

-☆

"so are you guys dating now?" yuji exclaims.

you both freeze.

"fuck off," megumi says instead of answering the question.

"god," yuji huffs out. "finally! all those peptalks and you don't even tell me that you got the girl?"

megumi blushes from beside you. neither of you had expected yuji to be awake to witness you two watching the sunrise on the hill beside the school.

"you know," yuji grumbles, "it took a lot of convincing to have you realize that you've been in love this entire time, megumi. the least you could've done was tell me."

megumi ignores him and snuggles further into you.

"why are you up so early?" you ask, shuffling underneath the blanket that is covering you and your boyfriend.

"instinct." yuji's shoulders drop, defeated. "'k, i'm gonna leave you guys to be romantic and shit up here. have fun explaining this to nobara later."

nobara almost wrings your neck out when she catches megumi holding your hand that saturday morning. she tells him that he needs to make up for the months he left you feeling sad. he says he's already forgiven, and he's not wrong (because you're weak when it comes to him, just like he's weak when it comes to you).

you think that you would've chose to love him no matter the outcome. loving him is easy like that.

a/n: oh my god. this was a word dump and not proofread. i am so sorry this took forever to come out but i ended up changing the plot like a billion times cus it wasn't good enough.. LOL. hope u enjoyed this!!! thx for making me write more megumi because i love writing him (he's been my fave character since the anime came out three years ago hehehe). ngl it was kinda rushed bc i wanted to get this out but i think it turned out fine!!!! ok thx once again ily muah xx

#jjk x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi angst #megumi x you #i love megumi sm #he’s been my fave since i was like 15 so you know i had to write this up #sorry this took forever #yuji and nobara are really good friends #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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kissitbttr · 25 days

Text

Normally, you never come home as late as Toji but these past few weeks surely have taken a turn.

Being a designer is definitely not an easy task, especially now you’re a mother to a two year old baby girl. The workload tends to get overwhelming yet somehow you love it. Toji on the other hand gets so worried about your well-being, hating the fact that his pretty wife isn’t getting too much rest.

You always reassure him with a long kiss, telling him that you’re absolutely fine and slowly adapting to the new schedule. You also remind him that his job being a CEO company isn’t too much far off. He can’t argue with that

It is Friday night. And it was supposed to be you and Toji spending time together. Toji already clocked out early, leaving all the work to his assistants but he will still keep an eye out from home.

However, you’re late. Looking over at the clock and see how it’s almost 8 on the dot and you made a promise to Toji you’d be home by 7. .

Unlocking the door of your shared condo, you let out a sigh of relief. No signs of your husband in sight and you feel bad because maybe he’s fallen asleep already.

But then a smile takes over your face soon as your gaze falls upon the living room. Seeing your large, handsome husband lying on the couch, fast asleep with his arms crossed. Then you look over at the dining table, eyes softening at the sight of your favorite dish cooked by your man.

Toeing your heels off, you slowly approach his sleeping figure. A giggle escapes you when you realize that this man is far too big for his own good, one of his leg being draped over the head of the couch because his torso is already taking too much space

So, so, cute.

You eye his handsome face for a moment, biting onto your lower lip as you slowly hover yourself on top of him. Both hands are supporting your weight on either side of his shoulders with knees planted beside his hips. You feel him shift and groan a bit under.

Toji looks so peaceful, you want to give him love even more.

Glossed lips softly pressing against the skin of his jawline, littering small kisses all over from left to right. Inhaling the scent of his cologne and marlboro reds. One that you scold him too often because he just doesn’t quit.

After a while, Toji eventually wakes up from his slumber. Eyes blinking a bit with his brows knitted in confusion on what’s happening. Then he sees you. His gorgeous, gorgeous wife and the scar on his lip twitches upwards for a smile. large palms coming to rest on your hips and rubbing circles on it, causing the skirt of your dress to rides up a little.

“Hmm, you’re finally home” He greets, followed with a sigh of contentment. Holding you steady in his grasp. “I could get used to waking up to this” He jokes a little with a low chuckle

“Hi, my baby” You smile, continuing the soft kisses all over his jawline and neck making him grip onto you a bit harder. “Why are you sleeping here?” You lean back a bit, brushing the hair that’s matted against his forehead

“Waiting for you” He puts one arm behind his head, eyes looking into yours. “I cooked for us. Your favorite”

“I’m sorry i was late” You pout, immediately feeling bad. “The meeting was longer than i anticipated—Alena is asleep?”

He hums, leaning into your touch when you cradle his cheek. “It’s fine, my love—She is yeah. Put her back to sleep an hour ago” He responds, his lips reaching to touch yours.

You hum against his soft mouth, giggling a little when he refuses to let you pull away. His arms circled around your waist.

“I guess it’s mommy and daddy time then?” You muffle the question, hands coming up to feel his broad shoulders.

He hums as a response, wasting no time and slips a finger underneath the waistband of your panties before pulling it off of you, tossing it somewhere across the room. “You know it, baby—God, i’ve missed you” Toji leaves kisses down to the column of your neck, one hand squeezing the globe of your ass. “Fuck—You’re so sexy. Such a lucky bastard”

“Baby what about dinner? You cooked!” You whine with a smile, not exactly wanting him to stop anyway.

“It can wait” Is what he says before flipping you under him making the both of you laugh, now that he’s on top of you. Both of your mouths finding each other again

Yeah. You can definitely get used to coming home to this

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #dad!toji

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 25 days

Note

Heyyy I absolutely love your work!! Could I request a drabble of Bucky being completely smitten with the reader or a headcanon when the reader is sick??? Merci beaucoup mademoiselle🫶💖

Two Floors

PAIRINGS: 40's!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: FLUFF, angst (if you squint), mentions of not haveing enough money

WORD COUNT: 1,759 (got carried away lol)

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

“Oh c’mon doll, can’t leave a poor man hangin’,” he says as he runs to catch up with you. You roll your eyes as he comes to walk along side you.

“Buchanan, I told you to go annoy Rogers instead. I have much more important things to do,” you bite in his direction as you make your way through the streets of Brooklyn.

Graduating high school, a month ago with your best friends, Bucky and Steve, was something your dreamed of when you met the two boys the first time your moved into the old apartment complex.

Since then, the three of you have become inseparable.

But something eats away at your heart, a painful piece of emotion that just slowly chews away at your peace.

“You got a job already?” Bucky asks as he slides his hands into his pockets. You adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder and nod your head, “just a small secretary job at the library. Enough to earn something until I finally decided what I wanna do with my life.”

Bucky laughs and lets out a low whistle, “still that ‘always need to know whay my future is’ type o’ girl, yeah?” You shake your head and slap his arm, “quit it, Buchanan. Or I’m telling Winnie your being an ass.”

Bucky rubs his arm, a little sore from your slap. “My ma trusts you more than the Lord himself,” Bucky comments, the loosely swinging his arm over your shoulder.

You doesn’t push it away.

“That’s because I don’t go bring random girls back home and make them scream my name in the middle of the night,” you smirk as you reveal you know of his nightly activities.

Bucky stops, forcing her stop. The look on his face is horrific and you snort and slap his chest at his reaction. “How’d you-,” he starts, but you continue to laugh.

“Becca tells me everything, Buchanan,” you wink at him before you start walking again. He breaks out of his reverie and jogs to catch up with you, “doll, it ain’t like that.”

You laugh and shake your head, “do I look like I care who you mess around with, Buchanan?” He pauses and shakes his head, it looks like to you he’s a bit upset, “no, you don’t”

You were about to say something else, but something caught your eye.

You stop and gasp as you walk towards the window of the shop.

The great glass pane with the large painted letters on it does not stop you from viewing the contents inside of the store.

The dainty little locket sits at the back of the display, hiding behind all the extravagant jewels. You know that the owner would’ve expected people to look at the jewels.

But the locket, it hangs lovingly from a thin gold chain. The oval case rests just in between the collarbone.

You think it’s the most beautiful piece you’ve ever seen.

Bucky see’s you view the locket and how in awe you are in as you frame a picture of it in your mind.

“Why don’t you get it,” Bucky suggests, nodding at the piece of jewellry. You let out a sad laugh, “because it costs more than our parents’ rent combined, Buchanan.”

You bite your lip while still looking at the necklace, “a girl could dream.”

You sigh and pull away, “let’s go.”

------- The Rogers’, the Barnes’ and your parents all stand in front of you as they sing ‘Happy Birthday’ for the eighteenth time in your life.

After they finish the song, out of key, you drag the simple knife down the cake, and they start cheering.

Your mother cuts up slices and hands it to everyone, you get up from the dining table and smooth out the wrinkles of the emerald green cotton dress your mother sewed for you.

The dad’s gather as they converse about the lastest sports, the mom’s are in the kitchen laughing as the cook dinner. Steve, Bucky, Rebecca and you sit in the living room.

You go against the opinions of Steve’s and Bucky’s as they complain about how high school was the worst time of their life.

“Look guys, you can’t say that,” you chastise them softly, “Becca, you’re in your junior year. It’s one of the best times you’ll ever experience.”

Becca nods, as Steve shakes his head to Bucky and Bucky mouths a ‘No’ in Becca’s direction.

“Buchanan,” you throw the couch pillow at him.

-------

“Hey, can I come in?” Bucky knocks on the window of your bedroom.

The party was over, and you’re parents went out to have a quick little dinner. They were upset because they didn’t want to leave you on your special day, but you knew how hard they’ve been working, and they didn’t have time to themselves. So you pushed them out the door and yelled a ‘have a great time’.

Bucky crouches on metal ridges that is your fire escape, waiting for your permission to enter your room.

You jump out of bed and raise your window a bit higher so he can fit in. “Are you out of your mind, Buchanan?” You whisper-yell at him.

He shrugs, “what? I live two floors above your doll, nothing to be worried about.” The wink he throws you way, makes you roll your eyes.

But there’s a place in your heart where it instantly becomes warm.

Because, even if Bucky was a player at times, he still caught your heart.

You did roll your eyes at his antics. But your smile was true from how playful he is.

You’d say ‘Quit it, Buchanan’, but in your mind you’d always whisper a ‘Don’t ever stop’.

You knew you were falling for Bucky, but you always forced those feelings down.

Because you knew, he won’t feel the same.

“What needed my attention so badly, that you had climb down to get here,” you cross your arms and narrow you’re eyes at him.

He smirks and sits on your bed, “well, I haven’t given you my present yet.”

You freeze.

You’re also confused.

“What? Of course you did, your family gifted me the Aesop Fable set,” you say as you walk to stand in front of him.

You vividly remember getting the gift, because it was something you have been telling Becca about for so long. And you squealed when you opened their present

But Bucky shakes his head, “no doll. They gave you, their gift. I haven’t given you mine.”

You pause, and you swear your heart starts beating a little faster.

“What”? You whisper, because you know you voice will crack if you spoke louder.

He pats the space next to him, “sit down, doll.”

You gulp and go sit down next to him, you obediently place you hands on your thighs as you wait for the next part.

Bucky gives a smile. But it’s different, you have never seen this look on Bucky before. The softness of his eyes, the way his cheeks are slightly flushed, the little crinkles at the corners of his lips as he maintains that smile.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny box.

The box looked like it was originally used to store a single chocolate ball, but the lettering on it worn out and the edges are a bit jagged.

You look at bucky with confusion, “what is thi-.”

He interrupts you, “just open it f’me, doll.”

And you do.

“Bucky, no.”

The locket stares back up at you, the gold glints under the light of your room.

“You-you can’t be serious, thi-this has to be a joke,” you turn to face him with tears lining your eyes. You heart has never beaten so fast in your entire life.

Bucky’s grin widens and nods, “got it this morning, just for you.” He says your name so softly that you think it might break if he said it to harshly.

You wrap your arms around his neck and push your head against his shoulder as you whisper your million ‘thank you’s’.

Bucky chuckles and rubs your back, “anything for you, doll.”

“Why, why me? Why this?” you shake your head against him.

“Because I gotta tell the girl, who lives two floors below me, that I’m in love with her,” Bucky pulls back and cups the back of your neck.

You gasp softly and furrow your brows at him, your shock so evident on your face.

“Gotta tell her that I’ve been after her since the day she moved into this building,” Bucky leans in and you follow.

How have you been so daft to not see this?

You close your eyes and stop until you’re a hair width’s away from Bucky’s lips.

“Gotta tell her how much I’ve been dreamin’ about her, and how she’s the only thing on my mind,” Bucky whispers, and you feel his breath hits your lips.

He softly places his lips on yours, and you move your hands to cup his face. You both move your lips in tandem to the other, as you try to feel more of one another.

He pulls away breathlessly and you follow suit.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a long time, doll,” he chuckles and leans in to place soft kisses on your jaw.

You giggle and whisper a ‘me too’.

Bucky takes the locket from your hands and starts to put it on for you.

He soon as he done, he leans back and sees how beautifully the necklace sits just above the dip of your collarbone.

“Open it up,” he nods at the locket. You smile and follow his orders, you gasp as you see a picture of your seventeenth birthday, with the Rogers’ and Barnes’, at Coney Island. And the other side had a picture of you and Bucky at Prom.

You didn’t have a date, well you did but he stood you up. So Bucky stepped in and became your man for the night.

You look up at him and have no words to say.

“I-,” you start but can’t finish your sentence.

“I know, doll. I know,” he smiles. “Been saving those tiny pictures for a while, but it was worth it,” he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes and relish this feeling that hangs in the air.

The feeling that you have been wanting to feel for so long now, it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Bucky?” you whisper.

“Hmm, doll,” he whispers back.

“I love you.”

“I love you, doll.”

💌💌💌

OMG! MY FIRST EVER ANON!!

HELLO NONNIE!!!

Love this ask, I've always had this idea in mind, but never really knew how to write it.

I guess this is just a messy way of writing it lol.

I hope this is what you were looking for nonnie!!!

Lemme know what you lovelies think!!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fic

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princessbrunette · 15 days

Note

babydaddy!jj still being hopelessly in love with reader. constantly finding reason to be at her place, fixing anything if it breaks, having play dates with your daughter that lead you him sleeping over and waking up to you making him breakfast while he feeds your daughter. all the emotions come running back and he just knows he wants to make you his wife. maybe he’d just blurt it out because he can’t help himself

this. he is relentless. constantly showing up unannounced just to ask you the most random question.

୨ৎ . ⸝⸝ ! 🌙 ꒱

when you open the door you look all stressed and tired and you have coffee down your top and he just wants to make your life easier and help you so bad! cocomelon is on full blast, your baby is loudly babbling and shouting and you’re just simultaneously relieved at his presence but also stubborn, shaking your head at him. “jj this could have been a text.” you respond briskly and his eyes dart between you and your hallway before wedging himself through your door slightly.

“yeah, no for sure uh— i was just in the area, y’know how it is and my phone died so… hold on a minute, what’s this?” he points to the small side table in your hallway and you furrow your brows, too exhausted for the conversation.

“a table.” you answer in deadpan.

“well, you’re damn right about that— but look, right here. this!” he points to the corner. “you know, soon enough our lil girl is gonna start crawlin’ and when she does things like this are gonna be a total danger to her and her squishy head. what if she falls, huh? rams right into it? did’ya consider that?” he’s being totally theatrical, nudging his foot against the low table on the ground.

“i’m sure we’ll manage, jay—”

“nope. you got tape? i’m baby proofin’ the shit outta this house.” he slides into your home, walking straight through to the living room where you hear him greet your baby. “theres my favourite little gremlin!”

you lean against the wall for a second, disorientated from lack of sleep before following him in and dropping down on the couch. “the tapes in the kitchen drawer. just watch her for a little would you? just gonna close my eyes for a second.” you hum, sinking into the couch. you feel the seat dip beside you, and a hand on your arm.

“hey, you been gettin’ any sleep?” his voice is gentler now, concerned.

“m’fine.” you rasp, half asleep already. he sighs out his nose.

“di’nt i tell you to call me if you needed me to take her? dont gotta do this all by yourself, mama.” he softly reprimands and you shrug, too sleepy to argue and he lets it go, watching you for a moment.

you wake up, in your bed at around 2AM — JJ clearly having taken over for the whole night, putting you and the baby to sleep. you shoot up, disorientated and concerned, going to sprint from your bed but accidentally stepping on the blonde sleeping on the floor beside it.

“ow, jeez woman!” he groans, sitting up.

“jay— you, where’s —”

“asleep. you’re meant to be sleepin’ too. you knocked the hell out, aaand… i didn’t wanna wake you n’stuff so…” he explains, running a hand through matted hair. you blink yourself more awake, looking around before back at him.

“why are you down there?” you exasperate and he blinks back at you.

“uh…”

“‘can sleep in here with me jj, it’s fine. you put a baby in me for gods sake you don’t have to act so repulsed.” you grumble before rolling over to face the other way, making room for him. at this, he shoots up, appearing directly behind you in bed.

“hey, woah — quite the accusation there. s’not true, alright? i was being…respectful. that’s my bad.” he holds his hands up and you unclench your muscles slightly, relaxing more into the bed.

“‘kay.” your tone softens and so does he, laying down and getting comfortable beside you, staring at the ceiling. after a moment he speaks again, quietly.

“repulsed… yeah right, dude. i’m like the freakin’ opposite. you have no clue.”

in the morning he’s not by your side, but when you pad out into the kitchen — you find your baby in her high-chair, being spoon fed by her blonde father.

“look who it is, say riiiise and shine, mama.” jj, cheerful as ever grins as he spoons more mush into the babies mouth. she babbles out spitty sounds in retaliation, equally thrilled to see you. “yeah, close enough.” he chuckles, wiping the mess on her chin.

“good morning baby!” you coo, leaning forward to kiss her soft head. “and good morning daddy.” you gently place your hand on his back as you pass him making his heart skip a beat, watching you rifle the cabinet for your mug to make some coffee.

“oo, i remember when you used t’call me that.” he smirks to himself, spooning up more baby food and you whip your head around to give him a look.

“jj! not infront of the baby.” you huff, light heartedly and he holds up a hand.

“my bad, my bad.”

his smile doesn’t fade, and when you turn you back to pick out a mug — you grow one of your own.

୨ৎ . ⸝⸝ ! 🌙 ꒱

#anon #jj maybank prompt #babydaddy!jj

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joshym · 1 year

Text

No Hands

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your little game works out exactly in your favor.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: (18+ MINORS DNI) unprotected sex, light dom/sub (roles switch a bit), rough sex, oral & fingering (f receiving), some good fluff.

A/N: I had a thought in my head that I just could not shake, so naturally I had to write it out and, well, here it is lol. I’m a bit nervous as this is my first smut to post here, but I truly hope you all enjoy. <3

Huge thank you to @jakeyt for the beautiful moodboard to accompany my unhinged thoughts, and for being the best editor. <3

💛

It’s the early evening, the golden glow shining through the windows is casting the house in an alluring warm hue. Josh has been gone most of the day working on the many projects for the upcoming album.

You miss him tremendously. You’re longing to have him near; you’re craving his touch particularly bad tonight. You keep catching yourself thinking about his hands and how well they search your body. They’re so strong and intentional with every touch. It feels like a lightning strike through your body with every graze of his fingertips.

He’s coming home soon and you’re already plotting your scheme.

You start to doll yourself up, putting on little touches of makeup and fixing your hair in a set of effortless curls.

It doesn’t take much to drive Josh crazy for you, but there’s one dress in particular that sets him off every time. In fact, it’s a rule that you aren’t allowed to wear it out in public anymore because he can’t seem to control himself. The dress is tight and quite short, nearly revealing it all every time you move even slightly. The back of it is completely open with the straps crossing in the back tied with a small bow. It’s black and adorned with small white roses. It hugs your body in all the right ways, and it looks really, really good on you.

So, naturally, you eagerly grab the dress that’s tucked away in the back of your closet. You put it on and smile widely at your reflection and instantly think to yourself, ‘he’s going to lose his damn mind.’

Before you know it, you hear the front door unlock. Your stomach is full of butterflies, but you do your best to maintain composure as he walks in. You greet him very nonchalantly, paying no mind to the fact that you’re donning the dress.

“Hi, baby! How did everything go today?”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes, looking at you with pure lust-filled confusion.

“It, uh, it went well, I guess.”

He sets his keys down on the table in the foyer and moves his way across the living room to you, never taking his tired eyes off your body.

“What’s the occasion, my dear?”

He moves closer, grabbing your waist with intensity and pressing his face in the crook of your neck. His lips faintly connect with the skin under your ear. You shudder at his touch but still manage to keep up your façade.

“Oh, this old thing? I just found it in the closet and felt like trying it on. No big deal, really.”

His fingertips tighten around your waist as he moves his lips closer to your ear. His voice becomes low and heavy, deep and hardly above a whisper.

“You know what this little ensemble does to me, sweetheart.”

He attaches his lips to your neck with vigor, causing you to momentarily break character as your body trembles. His hands move down slowly to your thighs to play with the hem of your dress. He starts to move them up under the fabric until you abruptly stop him by grabbing his forearms.

“I want to try something.”

His lips have yet to leave your neck, only stopping to respond to your inquiry.

“Yeah? I’m listening, lovely.”

You want to test him and see how far you can take it. He’s quite handsy, and you love how desperately he needs to touch every part of your body. You know that this will drive him over the edge and make him even more desperate to touch every part of you.

“Go sit on the couch and put your hands behind your back.”

He looks at you curiously with a large smirk gracing his flushed lips.

He takes a seat on the sofa, obeying your command and holding his hands behind him as he leans against the cushion.

You slowly make your way over to him, being sure to make it a bit of a show as you swing your hips. You gradually lift your dress up, ever so slightly revealing your black lace panties before you straddle yourself on his lap. He starts to move his hands to touch you, but you stop him.

“I want to try a ‘no hands’ kind of challenge. You must keep them behind your back while I kiss you, and if you move them, I’ll stop.”

Josh lightly groans and shifts his hips upwards, sending a harsh thrust to your body as you can feel him begin to harden instantly. You’re breathless at the sensation and eager to see how far this little game will take the two of you. A devious grin graces his face, his amber eyes becoming heavy and dark.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to regret this little game. But I’ll play along.”

It’s rare that Josh lets you take control during these fervorous moments between the two of you. He has quite the dominant side to him, and if you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t have it any other fucking way.

You’re infatuated with every part of him, especially the part that takes control and pleasures you in ways you never thought possible.

Sometimes, though, you liked to rile him up, to test his dominant side. Tease him relentlessly until he can’t stand it any longer and really lets you have it.

He knew exactly what you were doing, and he’s ready to give you just what you want.

You start kissing him with intense desire. Your hands cup his face while you explore his hungry mouth with your tongue. You start to move your kisses to his jawline, one of your favorite spots, licking and sucking on the tight skin.

He hasn’t even tried to move his hands yet. Dammit. Time to amp things up.

You start kissing the spot under his ear, licking his earlobe where his silver hoop rests between kisses. You know this drives him mad, and his reaction tells you he’s beginning to lose control.

You decide to turn things up one more notch. You begin moving your body, grinding yourself on his lap. You feel him start to twitch, his breathing becoming labored and staggered.

“Baby…you’re only making this worse for yourself…”

His voice is becoming more sinister, more possessive, more domineering. You feel his arms tense up as he’s fighting the urge to grab you.

You’ve got him right where you want him. Just a bit more taunting and he’ll give it up.

You suck dark marks all over his neck, moving your hands to his hair and lightly pulling. Your movement becomes vigorous against his lap, and you feel yourself starting to tremble at the sensation.

“I don’t think you can keep this up much longer, baby. I can feel how wet you are, you’re shaking. How much longer ‘til you let me take care of you, huh?”

He’s starting to find the loophole in your plan. He’ll get you to give in and give this whole thing up, taking over his place as the one in control.

And fuck, if you didn’t want that so badly.

But you’re not ready to give in. Not yet. You have to see how far he’ll let you go.

“You’re being so good for me, Joshy.”

You manipulate your voice to sound much more composed than you actually are, trying to keep up this semblance of control when in reality you’ve never been more ready for him to ravish you.

You up the ante once more, knowing this will more than likely be what does him in.

You reach down between your bodies and grope him through his khaki shorts, evoking a strong reaction from him.

“That’s it, y/n.”

He moves his hands from behind his back and grabs your waist, flinging you off him and laying you on your back on the couch. It all happened so quickly; you didn’t even have time to retaliate.

He makes up for lost time, maneuvering his hands to every inch of your body with potency. He bunches the fabric of your dress up to your hips, not wanting to waste the time to take it off completely. His fingers dip down to the black lace still covering your soaked pussy.

“Look at that, sweet girl. You’ve got yourself all worked up. What shall we do about that, hm?”

You giggle breathlessly, unable to form words due to the anticipation of what is about to happen.

“Uh uh. Tell me. Tell me what we need to do about it. You did this to yourself, sweetheart. Now use your words and tell me what you want, or I’ll stop.”

The roles have officially reversed. He’s played you with your own game. And you love it.

“I want you to use those incredible hands of yours all over me..”

You meet his lips with a few small pecks.

“..and your mouth..”

The kisses deepen.

“and your cock…”

He’s smirking against your lips as his hands begin to delve into exploring every crevice of your body.

He grabs your neck, squeezing lightly but with enough force to cause your breath to hitch. His other hand has bunched your dress all the way up to your stomach. He traces his fingers down the expanse of your belly, stopping right above the waistband of your panties, then moving to your exposed hip.

The hand on your neck moves down slowly to your chest. He grabs your breast through the fabric still covering it, kneading with his firm fingers and brushing his thumb over your nipple.

His lips travel down to your neck, sucking large love marks in the skin, softly biting and licking in between marking you up.

He pulls off your neck with a ‘pop’ from his mouth. Your skin is soaked from him.

“As much as I want to rip this cute little dress off of you, I think you should keep it on to remember why you’re not allowed to wear it in this first place.”

His hand on your hip moves back to your aching pussy still covered with black lace.

“Oh I think you’ve ruined these, sweetheart. What a shame. I love these on you.”

He pulls your panties all the way down your legs and throws them somewhere on the floor, leaving your wetness fully exposed. His fingers waste no time toying with you, rubbing hard and slow circles over and around your clit. Your body shakes and quivers with each movement of his fingertips.

His middle and ring fingers slide down to push past your entrance and fuck into you with intensity, his palm creating delicious friction against your clit.

His hands are so skilled, so strong; you feel like melting under his every touch. His long fingers immediately hit that place deep inside you that only he knows is there, that can only be reached by his touch.

You’re already so close. A melody of powerful moans escapes you, and you don’t even bother silencing them. You feel yourself tightening around his fingers when they suddenly slow to an agonizing halt. His deep and taunting voice grabs your attention away from his stilled movement.

“Already? You that needy for me, baby?”

His face just barely above yours, his warm breath tickling your skin in the most glorious way.

“Josh please, please don’t stop…I need you so bad..”

“Oh, you sound so pretty when you beg for me.”

His fingers start moving again, picking up their pace and you’re right back to where you were before he stopped.

The waves of pleasure come crashing over you like a tsunami. Your whole body tenses up under his touch, shaking uncontrollably, your back arched completely off the couch, bending to his will to please you. He keeps going, fucking his delectable fingers into you through each pulse and throb of your body.

You’re almost faint at the sensation. Josh pulls his fingers out and brings them up to your lips. You open for him as he places them on your tongue and you suck them in, tasting yourself and moaning at the feeling of them in your mouth.

“That was a big one, yeah? I felt you tighten up so hard around me. You think you can handle more, sweetheart?”

You nod and hum around his fingers that are still tucked away, splayed across your tongue.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not done with you yet.”

Josh lifts you up on your knees, your elbows resting against the back of the couch. He stands behind you in admiration as you spread yourself for him. He gives a soft slap to your hip, kneeling to the ground at eye level with your throbbing core as his hands grab your thighs.

“You’re so pretty and pink after you’ve been played with, baby.”

He delivers velvet kisses to the backs of your thighs, slowly making his way to where you need his swollen lips the most.

His lips move closer and closer, until he finally lands a deep kiss to your desperately wet pussy.

His tongue laps at you without relent, his lips encompass your swollen clit.

“You feel so fucking good Josh, fu-”

You’re already close again. Your moans are deafening at the slight over stimulation that is nothing but elating.

“J-Josh…please don’t, please don’t stop I’m so close…”

Your body is trembling, barely able to hold yourself steady as your second release washes over you.

He stands up and his face meets your shoulder, feeling your wetness all over his facial hair.

“You taste so sweet, y/n. I could eat you up over and over.”

You’re short of breath, still coming down from your climax.

He leaves kisses on your shoulder as you hear him unzip his shorts.

“Think you can handle my cock, darling?”

“Y-yes, please. I need you inside me so bad.”

He places his head at your entrance. He’s unbelievably hard, and you smile at knowing it’s all because of your pleasure.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? You gonna cum for me again, hm?”

He’s barely nudging at you. You’re practically pushing yourself against him.

“Joshy please fuck me. I need to feel you, please…”

With that, he slowly pushes into you all the way, filling you completely and perfectly.

“Fuck, y/n. You’re so tight, sweet girl.”

He starts thrusting, building up his pace until he’s slamming himself into you.

His hands are moving up and down your body, pushing on your back, grabbing at your hair, holding on to your hip. These hands that you love so much; these hands that turn you on instantly. They’ve not stopped exploring you and pleasing you. You can’t get enough of his fucking hands.

He’s fucking you with so much rough passion and desire. Your body is on fire with pleasure.

He lifts you gently by your hair, bringing your back up to rest against him.

“I’m close baby. Give me one more, yeah? Then I’ll fill you up real good. Just one more for me, need to feel you cum on my cock.”

His fingers sneak down to your clit, rubbing impossibly fast circles.

“I’m gonna cum again, Josh..oh god please don’t stop.”

He’s moaning beautifully in your ear as his peak is almost reached, causing you to let go around him, cumming even harder than either time before.

“Fuck, y/n, that’s it baby. FUCK!”

He finally meets his own release, spilling his warmth inside of you, twitching with each pulse of your body.

You both stay just like this for a few minutes catching your breath and basking in this moment together.

He gently pulls out of you, causing you to slump down on the couch. You’re absolutely spent, having been pleasured beyond all imagination.

He lays down beside you. He faces you and brushes your disheveled hair out of your face, giggling at your fucked out state.

“I didn’t break you, did I?”

You laugh breathlessly, “Not quite.”

“I love you a lot, you know.”

“I love you too, Josh. So damn much.”

He glides his hand over your cheekbones and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling at you.

“I know exactly what you were doing, by the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your little ‘no hands’ game. Maybe next time, you’re the one that can’t use your hands. Maybe we tie them behind your back. How does that sound, hm?”

You bite your lip to hold back the smile that is trying to grace your lips at the thought of him taking your game to the next level.

“Sounds great, Joshy. As long as your sexy hands are free the whole time.”

He smiles, knowing just how much his hands drive you crazy.

“Well then, you better keep this dress in a safe place.”

Part 2

Masterlist

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka fic #greta van fleet fic #josh kiszka fan fic #gvf fic #josh kiszka #josh fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut

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phefics · 11 months

Text

unconventional

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: a tickle fight with billy and stu takes a turn when the boys realize how much they like hearing the reader beg. warnings: dubious consent, degrading names (slut), tickling word count: 1.6k

It’s an unconventional arrangement, dating two boys at once. You certainly hadn’t befriended Billy Loomis and Stu Macher with the intention of falling for either of them, let alone both.

But, shit happens, especially when your two best friends are attractive and fucking inseparable. Dating one of them would end up as a package deal, anyway.

Kids at school couldn’t quite figure you out. One day, you’d be seen getting carried bridal-style by Stu, the next, you’d be holding hands with Billy. Some people thought you were a cheater, some thought you were a beard to hide a gay love affair.

None of you gave a shit what anyone thought.

Your parents weren’t home, and you had invited the boys over for a movie night. Stu had arrived first, because he lived closer, and although Billy got there only a few minutes later, he walked in on an interesting scene.

You had left the front door unlocked, and as he walked inside, he heard shrieking coming from the living room. He panicked for a moment, thinking Stu had broken the ‘Don’t Kill Y/N’ rule, but as he tiptoed into the room, all he found was Stu straddling your thighs, tickling you.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

You and Stu both jumped at his voice, so caught up in the moment that you had forgotten he was on his way.

“Billy, help!” you cried, still giggling like mad as Stu’s fingers slipped beneath your sweater, scribbling over the skin of your stomach.

“Help? Sure, I’ll help,” Billy said, giving Stu a smirk as he approached, kneeling down on the floor beside you.

He easily grabbed your flailing wrists and pulled your arms up, pinning them over your head.

“Can’t smack me anymore, hm?” Stu teased. “Thanks, Billy, I was startin’ to fear for my life there.”

“No problem. We couldn’t let that pretty face get bruised, could we?”

While you agreed that Stu had a pretty face, you wanted nothing more than to punch him in it as his fingers creeped higher, tickling your underarms with a newfound vigor, now that you were helpless to stop him.

Your laugh grew in volume, in intensity. “You fuckers,” you gasped out, kicking your legs wildly. “I’m gonna kill you both, cut it out!”

Billy let out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over your ear. Stu, meanwhile, giggled along with you, clearly pleased with himself for starting this whole thing.

“You want us to stop?” Billy asked. “Cause it seems like you’re having fun…”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re smiling like crazy,” Stu added. “Why would we stop makin’ you smile, baby?”

"Besides, we're certainly having fun."

You whined as his fingers slowed to a torturous, feather-light touch, just ghosting against your skin. “You guys suck,” you said, breathless.

Billy hummed. “Really? We suck? That’s not very nice, Y/N. Stu, I think we need to teach her some manners.”

“I agree.”

And with that, Stu’s hands began tickling you again, dancing over your entire torso, never lingering in one spot for too long. Billy adjusted his grip on your wrists so that he was only holding them with one hand, using the other to flutter over the side of your neck, making you scrunch up your shoulders uselessly.

This was awful. It was torture. But…There was something exciting about it, too. Being held down like this, helpless and pliant beneath their touches as they exploited your weak spots…Stu’s hands brushed against your chest as he went, and you weren’t wearing a bra, and you felt your nipples grow hard at the quick, barely-there contact.

“You gonna apologize to us?” Billy asked.

You shook your head. You had nothing to apologize for. They did suck, you were just telling the truth.

“Always so fuckin’ stubborn,” he sighed, before using his free hand to tickle your armpit, making you squeal.

“Maybe she’s not giving up because she likes it,” Stu said. “She’s such a slut, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turns her on.”

If the tickling itself wasn’t hot, those words certainly were. You felt your pussy throb when you were called that, felt a thrill up your spine.

Billy chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said. “How about we make a new deal, Y/N? Stu’s gonna pull your pants down, and if you aren't wet right now, we’ll stop. But if you are, well…Maybe we’ll take the rest of your clothes off and keep going.”

The fingers stopped, finally giving you a chance to fully catch your breath. Your skin buzzed with the phantom sensation, your head spun from their teasing words. But most of all, you knew for a fact that you were wet, and your heart pounded in your chest at the realization.

Stu gave you a mischievous grin before getting off your legs and grabbing the waist of your sweatpants, yanking them down to your knees with no preamble, and cupping his fingers over your mound, pressing against your folds through your panties, feeling the obvious dampness that only made his grin grow larger, more devilish.

“You were right,” he said. “Little slut’s getting off on this.”

You opened your mouth and shut it again. What were you supposed to say? Deny the obvious? Attempt to elaborate that it wasn’t really the tickling, it was everything combined? Would that really save your dignity?

Billy laughed. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You let out a soft whimper as Stu’s fingers rubbed against your pussy, trying to buck your hips to gather more friction.

“So needy,” Stu muttered, almost to himself.

Billy released your wrists and made quick work of pulling your hoodie over your head, the cold air making goosebumps rise on your bare skin. Your nipples hardened even more, and you grew even more aroused as you were stripped.

Stu pulled your pants down the rest of the way, and your underwear, too, leaving you naked on the carpet and blushing like mad.

“Ready for round two, baby?”

You shook your head, squirming wildly as they caged you in between their bodies. “Please, I—”

They didn’t let you finish. If you really wanted them to stop, you knew what to say, and you hadn’t, so they had no reason for showing mercy.

Stu began squeezing up and down your thighs, occasionally scratching behind your knees as well, while Billy dug into your ribs.

The combined sensations made you burst into laughter, slightly hoarse with how loud you’d been the entire time. You thrashed, but they easily dodged your flying limbs and kept tickling.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Billy cooed.

“Fucking adorable,” Stu agreed.

You wailed as Stu ran his fingers over the sole of your foot, toes curling in an attempt to block the feeling, but it did nothing to provide any relief.

“Please,” you managed to say. “I can’t take it anymore, stop it!”

To your surprise, they did. Your begging usually only turned them on more, and you doubted they were truly going to stop.

Stu positioned himself between your thighs, pushing them apart so he could bring his face to your pussy, looking up at you with those sweet blue eyes.

Billy’s hands came to grab your breasts, and you moaned softly as his thumbs brushed over your nipples.

Stu licked at your entrance teasingly before beginning to eat you out, holding your hips and easily finding your clit with his tongue.

Your head lolled back into Billy’s lap, legs spreading even wider to give Stu better access to your aching clit.

All the rough-housing, the name-calling, the teasing had gotten you so worked up, and they were finally going to give you some relief.

Or, so you thought.

Slowly, Billy’s touch became light and ticklish again, blunt fingernails tracing along the curve of your tits, up to your collarbones, down to your sides. You squirmed and laughed softly, trying to ignore it and focus on the pleasure Stu’s tongue was bringing you, but that bastard had also begun to wiggle his fingers against your hips, all while focusing the rest of his attention on your clit, causing a mixture of moans and giggles to spill from your lips.

“So pretty,” Billy murmured. “So sensitive, too. But you take it like the good girl you are, hm? You’ll take whatever we dish out, won’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you reply, your speech slightly slurred.

“You gonna cum for us like this? Fuckin’ helpless, fuckin’ adorable…”

You whined as Stu’s mouth brought you closer to climax, and Billy’s words were certainly helping. “Yes,” you said again. “Please, make me cum…”

You felt Stu chuckle against you, the heat of his breath making you twitch.

Their fingers were still tickling, in that maddening sort of itch that made you want to crawl out of your skin more than it made you want to laugh. It kept your entire nervous system alert, buzzing like electricity as you drew closer and closer to orgasm.

“That’s our girl,” Billy said. “Begging like a good slut. You can cum baby, cum for us.”

His words were all you needed to be pushed off the edge, legs shaking as you came with a cry of pleasure.

Stu popped up from between your thighs, all wild-eyed and adorable, like he was so proud to have given you that orgasm. His lips were shining with your wetness, and Billy leaned over you to kiss it off for him.

As your boyfriends kissed, you flopped back against the carpet, breathless and spent. Your skin still tingled and you felt high off of adrenaline.

“How ‘bout we get you cleaned up, huh?” Stu said, gesturing at the sticky mess on your thighs.

You blushed. “My shower is not big enough for the three of us,” you said.

“But we could run you a bath,” Billy suggested. “And you could watch us have a little fun…You got us so fuckin’ hard.”

You could see both of their cocks straining in their pants, and grinned. “That sounds like a plan.”

An unconventional relationship, an unconventional sex life…You couldn’t care less if it was strange. It was fucking perfect.

#poly!ghostface #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader x stu #scream 1996 fic #scream 1996 smut #ophelia's fics #tkl

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mandos-mind-trick · 7 months

Text

Inspiration

Summary: You're a famous romance novel author. Your boyfriend is more than willing to help you get over your writers block.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, lots of teasing, hair pulling, romance novels.

A/N: You can blame thank @moonlightwarriorqueen for this one. Been thinking about it all day since that ask and I had to write it.

MASTERLIST

You let out a heavy sigh once more, rubbing your eyes.

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks, stepping into your shared bedroom.

You let out another sigh, before nodding. “Yeah. Just...can’t quite get this scene right.”

He hums thoughtfully, crawling onto the end of the bed. “What’s happening in the scene?”

“Well, the love interest currently has his hand up the protagonists’ skirt in the middle of the kitchen.” You turn to look at him as he stretches out on the bed next to you. “I just don’t know what direction to go from here.”

“Well, I think they’d both like to cum.” He says, deadpan.

You slap his chest playfully, rolling your eyes. “Well of course that’s the goal. It’s just how they’re going to reach that goal that I’m unsure about.”

You had been embarrassed at first, when he’d asked what you did for a living.

You usually were when people asked, either lying or skirting around the truth. It wasn’t shame that brought these feelings forward when you were asked by any means. No, you love what you do. It was more...loathing for the inevitable awkward conversation that followed.

You had been honest with Hunter, mostly because you knew just by looking at him he wasn’t really going to know what you were talking about.

Hunter didn’t exactly strike you as being a romance novel reader.

That’s what you do. You’re one of the galaxy’s most famous romance novel authors. You write under a penname, of course, so no one knows who you actually are. You rarely reveal who you are anyway, only to people you know very well. People you trust.

You had been right in your assumption about Hunter. Even if he hadn’t spent his entire life training and fighting a war, you doubted he’d be spending his free time reading romance novels.

You had never expected him to read one of them, after the two of you began seeing each other.

You wanted to simultaneously melt into the floor and explode when you entered your living room to find him holding up a datapad with one of your most popular book covers on the screen. You’re sure your body temperature went up a few degrees as he’d simply sat there holding the datapad with a raised brow.

“My Clone Lover?” He’d asked, giving you an exasperated look.

“They were very popular during the war.” You’d shrugged, shuffling your feet bashfully. “There’s a whole series.”

“A series?” He’d asked in disbelief.

You didn’t expect him to have read it already. He’d mostly had critiques of smaller details like the GAR and clones' day to day lives and how much freedom they actually had. You of course being a civilian had little knowledge of the military and war and had only had a few resources to go off of. Though, most of your readers probably weren’t reading for military accuracy.

He only brought up those parts of the stories after you began to get physical in your relationship.

Hunter’s a good lover. Despite his inexperience at first, he’s attentive and a quick learner. He learns exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, what spots he can simply run his fingers over that leave you squirming.

It doesn’t take much to work him up, either.

“I think I can help draw up some inspiration.” He says, his voice pitched low and gravely as he tugs the datapad from your hands.

He hovers over you, letting the datapad drop to the floor with a gentle thud. He presses his lips to yours, his hand sliding down your side to grip your hip. You hum against his lips, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders. He presses closer to you as his hand slides down your hip to your bare thigh, squeezing gently.

“You’ve been getting into the candy stash again.” He murmurs against your lips.

“It helps me focus.” You giggle.

“Sure.” He laughs, dragging his hand up your thigh.

“I know you like it when I taste sweet.” You tease.

He hums again, biting down on your lower lip gently. “I do love the way you taste.”

His hand pushes your baggy shirt, one of his actually, up around your waist. His fingers are rough on your skin as he slips them under your panties, his middle finger dragging through your folds.

“Already so wet for me.” He groans, gathering your juices on his finger.

“Can’t help it.” You moan, gasping quietly as his finger drags over your clit. “You just have that effect on me.”

“Me, or the thoughts in your head?” He asks, circling your clit slowly.

“I think about you when I’m writing.” You gasp, fingers gripping his bicep. “That’s what makes it so realistic.”

He pulls away from your lips, leaning his head on his hand as he stares down at you. His finger continues to circle your clit, slowly working you up. “You base your protagonists’ love interests after me?”

“To an extent.” You say, fingers digging into his arms as your toes begin to curl with pleasure. “The human ones, at least.” You gasp, hips jerking as he adds just slightly more pressure. “Even some of the other species.”

He pauses, looking down at you. “Even the Wookiee?”

“I did say ‘some.’” You roll your eyes. “But I still mostly picture you. The way your hands feel on my body. The way you touch me. The way your cock feels inside me.”

“You should dedicate your next book to me. ‘To my boyfriend and his magical cock. Thank you for the inspiration.’” He says.

You slap his arm, letting out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I’m joking.” He presses his finger into your pussy, making you gasp. “I’m more than happy to secretly offer inspiration for your characters.”

“Good.” You gasp against his lips, his tongue tangling with yours. “Cause no book will ever compare to the real thing.”

He groans against his lips as he eases a second finger into you, curling them upwards. You let out a strangled moan against his lips as he finds that spot inside you, your legs squeezing around his hand.

He releases your lips to press his face into your neck. “The kids are gone for the night.” He says, lips brushing your skin. “Be as loud as you want.”

Your head falls back as another moan is torn from your lips by his fingers pressing hard against that spot inside you. Your legs shake, walls squeezing around his fingers. “Kriff, Hunter!” You whine, your clit dragging against his hand as he fucks you with his fingers.

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, licking at your neck as you writhe under him. “Cum for me.”

You cum with a cry of his name, soaking his fingers. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until you’re starting to shake from the overstimulation. He pulls his hand from your underwear, pushing himself up to sit as he takes them into his mouth, licking them clean.

You breathe heavily as you watch him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger. He groans as he licks every last drop of your release from his fingers before he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed chest. You bite your lip, lifting your hips so he can tug your panties off, slipping your own shirt over your head. He kicks his pants to the floor, revealing his hard cock. The tip is leaking already. As you said, he’s easy to work up.

He moves between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder. You bite your lip as he stares down at you with dark, lust filled eyes. “You look so good under me.” He says, pressing a kiss to your knee. “Look even prettier once you’re fucked out.”

“Kriff.” You groan as he slips his cock into you.

He presses all the way into you, folding your body as far as it can. You reach up and tug his bandana off, carding your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, and you drag your nails along his scalp. He lets out a groan, a shiver wracking his body. You smirk, tugging lightly on the strands. He lets out a louder groan, his hips jerking, causing his cock to move inside you.

“Fuck me, Hunter.” You groan, wrapping your other leg around his waist.

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, pulling his hips back just slightly before thrusting back into you.

Your body moves with his thrusts as he sets a steady pace, the headboard knocking against the wall. Neither of you care to be quiet, not with the house to yourselves. You moan loudly as he shifts his hips inside you, back arching off the bed.

“Just like that!” You gasp as his hips snap into yours. “Don’t stop!”

You move your hips with his, your hands pressing against the headboard for leverage as you push yourself back against his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he continues to hit that spot inside you, unintelligible sounds coming from your lips.

“Feel so good.” He groans, hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. “Squeezing me so tight. Kriff, gonna make me cum!”

You drop one hand to your clit, circling it desperately. You squeeze tight around him, one hard thrust from him sending you over the edge. You scream his name, writhing under him as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“So beautiful. So kriffing beautiful cumming like that on my cock!” He moans, his hips stuttering before he’s cumming inside you with a deep groan.

“Kriff,” You breathe, shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Hunter groans, letting your legs fall around him as he drops on top of you, just managing to catch himself before he squishes you. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your hands against his back. He always gets sensitive and overwhelmed thanks to his senses, but you’ve figured out ways to help him ground himself.

You work on steadying your breathing as he buries his face in your neck, pressing gentle kisses to the sweat-soaked skin. You keep yourself wrapped around him, ignoring the feeling of his seed slipping out of your pussy.

“Feeling inspired?” He murmurs against your neck, rolling you both onto your sides.

“Hmm,” You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure. We might need to try a couple more angles.”

He smirks against your skin, his cock getting hard against your thigh once more. “I think we can manage that.” He nips playfully at your throat. “Always happy to help you with your inspiration.”

Ye ole Ragu list:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @hellhound5925 @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #x reader #clone thirsting

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mamashenanigans · 5 months

Text

Okay. I’ve had time to process the spoilers for chapter 407: Paranormal Orphan.

Here are my thoughts:

-WTF?! They are twins?! What is it with Japanese mangaka and having unhinged twin relationships?! I’m looking at you, Nightow.

-AFO was born with his Quirk activated. Stealing nutrients from his mother then desperately feeding off of her corpse. Stole her Quirk too and seems to have some sentimental value in it as he still uses it often to this day.

-Low-key, I think there’s a hint here that the genetic change in babies and pre-pubescent kids started as some sort of STD that evolved considering their mom was a prostitute and “contracted” an illness. That’s just me, though.

-The first person he ever had was Yoichi and he held his hand right after birth. Also: JFC THAT’S A BIG BOY

-AFO is a victim of his Quirk like the other villains(Toga, Touya, Tenko). He was born wanting to possess things. I don’t like the whole “he was born evil” narrative. Yeah, he looks like a crazy ass Omen baby, but it makes sense he’d think the way he does.

-AFO is also an unreliable narrator here as this is all from his POV

-He says something to the effect of (we’ll know more once we get the scanlations) how, even though Yoichi can’t give him anything like he wants from everyone else, he’s still “his”.

-So, did he just get up and start walking and taking care of his brother out of sheer will when he was still a baby or did someone pick them up and raise them to the point when AFO wanted something from them and killed them when he didn’t get it?

-Yoichi still believes there is some good in his brother because he held his hand as a baby. 😭 Poor kid

-Poor wittle Yoichi getting kicked because he threw something at AFO. For how they’ve had to live, it makes sense AFO would react that way…in a manner of speaking.

-Yoichi learning to read from comics he finds in rubble/a dump. AFO takes notice and sits next to him. He then likes the part where the author says “One for All, All for One.” He should have had a name prior that he must have given himself as Yoichi has one. Though it would make sense that AFO named Yoichi himself as “first gift” since he was the first thing he ever had.

-AFO being jealous of the Glowing Baby is pretty spot on. All of this seems to hint that AFO and Yoichi were the first to have powers considering how AFO talks about the Glowing Baby and the 50 kids born in India.

-The last page is quite a cliffhanger and it sucks we have to wait 2 weeks for the next part(there’s no way this isn’t a two parter).

-How AFO is thinking about Yoichi leaving him is intensely possessive and reminds me of how Vader choked Padme when he thought she was betraying/leaving him. This also ties into how AFO didn’t know he had killed Yoichi.

-My guess is that AFO lashed out and sliced off Yoichi’s hand in a possessive rage. He was so startled by his own action that it gave the 3rd user time to grab Kudo and Yoichi then speed out of there.

-Is it just me or does anyone else hope AFO kept Yoichi’s hand? Parallel to Tomura having all of his family’s hands. I sure hope he did because I need even more twisted twin obsession.

-It’s most likely Yoichi lived long enough after this(and maybe with his blood) transferred OFA to Kudo. He then died from his blood loss and that’s why AFO didn’t know he had killed him.

-AFO crying over Yoichi’s death maybe the first and only time he’s ever cried. Yoichi did mean something to him, maybe even more than a “thing”, but he didn’t realize it until that one moment. He blames Kudo for his death because of the mental gymnastics he has to go through to convince himself that there’s no way he would have hurt the only person he’s ever actually loved—possessive as it may be. If Kudo hadn’t have taken him from the vault, he wouldn’t have reacted and cut off Yoichi’s hand, and therefore, Yoichi would still be alive.

-If he takes OFA with Yoichi’s soul in it, then Yoichi will be his again and “I totally didn’t kill him. See! He’s still alive!”

-The internet’s hot-takes that AFO is homophobic because he went full possessive Vader over Yoichi is weird. I said it.

-A part of me wants there to be a cliffhanger where we think Bakugo may have defeated AFO. We then get the intense fight between Tomura and Deku. Deku is about to win, however that’s going to happen, but then AFO shows up around the age he was when he kicked Yoichi, and he’s holding Bakugo as a threat, demanding Deku give him his brother back. But that’s just me. Again.

Anyway, I can admit when I’m wrong about a villain’s backstory. It wouldn’t be the first time and I honestly should have expected something like this considering Horikoshi going full on horror during this Final War arc. However, I don’t think AFO being born with his Quirk activated and “wanting to take” necessarily makes him “born evil.” The twins still had to survive on the streets as orphans, anti-meta people believing AFO is a diseased heathen and never wanting to help either of them. So, he took on exactly what they thought of him. It’s actually quite sad when you stop to think about it.

I’m going to be frothing at the mouth for the next two weeks to see how this backstory ends. Since it started with AFO going nuts and thinking Bakugo is Kudo, I’m assuming we’ll get further context of AFO’s thoughts when he’s crying.

#all for one #afo #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #yoichi shigaraki #bnha afo #bnha spoilers #2nd ofa user #mha kudo #mha407 #mha407 spoilers #chapter407 #spoilers

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lottiecrabie · 11 months

Note

Morning sex with pfms Matty 😇

I know you are not taking blurb requests but I would really really love it if you wrote one about pfms matty taking care of reader during exam season because I know she is a studious gal. “Study dress babe? Let me ✨alleviate it✨” “you’ve been working so hard” all that,,, can you tell that I’m reader 😁😁 If I pass I’ll credit u for sure

i think it’s too late to help you pass but still

she bites at her nails, flicks her eyes between her books and her notes, desperately tries to understand the complex science jargon she’s dutifully transcribed without getting. there’s pink, square letters on the lines; a collection of bulletpoints and highlights and pretty drawings. it’s unintelligible to her.

worry starts to rise in her chest. she feels it near her heart, beating alongside it, racing it. tears prickle at her eyes as she bites her finger beds raw, chews at the skin until it tastes metallic. she swears, wiping away the blood, moaning in pain.

a knock on the window. she stands, opening it to find matty grinning at her. he dips in and gives her a sweet kiss.

‘we can’t see each other today.’ she shakes her head as matty steps inside her room. ‘i have an exam coming up. i need to study.’

‘it’s saturday,’ matty says, like she was a bit silly. ‘live a little.’

again, she shakes her head. ‘i’m really not getting it. it’s— shit, it’s actually hard.’ she gives him a warning look, silently stopping him from saying whatever stupid quip he’s thinking.

‘you sound stressed,’ matty says, frowning.

‘i am.’

‘how about i help with that?’ a faint, cheeky smile shines on his face, hidden under the guise of seriousness. she gives him a look, unimpressed. ‘i meant studying,’ matty raises both his hands innocently.

‘sure you did.’

‘c’mon, let me see,’ matty sits at her desk, peering over her notes. ‘ouch.’

‘yeah.’ a small, pained moan comes from the back of her throat. she falls over her bed quite dramatically, spreading her arms in abandon. ‘my parents will kill me.’

‘they won’t,’ matty waves away, flipping a page.

‘no, they will. quite brutally, even. is the iron maiden still legal?’

‘god, you’re dark,’ matty says almost proudly. ‘and they won’t kill you because you won’t fail. alright. why can the ionization of atoms occur during photoelectron spectroscopy, even though ionization is not a thermodynamically favored process?’ matty looks up at her. ‘oh, we will be here all night.’

and they are, falling asleep clutching flash cards and notes, chemistry elements slack on their tongues. they wake up fully dressed, over the sheets, awkwardly tucked around each other.

she blinks awake, blushing as she notices matty. it’s the first time he’s fallen asleep here, and it’s not even for a dirty reason. there’s a strange feeling coming with that idea. she unwraps her arms around his middle, freeing him, taking her head off his shoulder.

matty makes a small, tired noise. ‘i feel my hand again,’ he says, moving his fingers.

‘you could have moved me,’ she accuses, now feeling terrible for his discomfort.

‘nah. i liked having you close.’ matty rolls on his side, watching her with a smile. ‘you’re cute when you sleep.’

‘oh, god. i hope i didn’t drool.’

‘just a little.’

‘matty!’ she whines. she shoves her face into her palms with a shamed groan.

‘what? i’ve seen worse.’ he tugs at her hand, coaxing her out.

she emerges from them still vaguely embarrassed. ‘thank you for helping me study,’ she whispers.

‘you’re welcome.’ he kisses her cheek, then the other, bending away just enough to stare at her. his eyes dip to her parted lips. ‘now can i help you the other way?’

she reddens, a low thrum of excitement coming up her spine. ‘yes,’ she breathes, looking away bashfully.

matty grins widely. he makes to catch her lips, but she turns her head. ‘morning breath,’ she explains. he shakes his head, but kisses down her neck instead.

matty rolls her on her back, uncovering her evening clothes one by one. she breathes quicker, watching him, trying to make even less noise. her parents are right next door, surely awake.

he licks down her belly, flipping her skirt, before sucking on her clit through her underwear. she jumps, spreading her legs wider, tugging at her own panties to try taking them off. matty listens, laughing as he drags them off her thighs, coming back happy.

he zigzags across her wet core, just missing the parts where she wants him the most. his hands keep her in place, teasing her until she’s dripping on the sheets.

‘matty,’ she whispers. ‘please.’

‘so polite,’ matty taunts, though gives in to her still.

his lips wrap around her bud and he sucks, flicking it a few times. his fingers thrust into her. he follows the familiar, known rhythm, one that has her kicking in bed and tugging vengefully at his hair in no time. she slaps one hand over her mouth, breathing twice as hard to compensate.

pleasure razes through her, hot, white euphoria waving building inside her belly. she feels an indescribable heat. her sweaty hair sticks to her forehead in answer.

pressure grows inside of her, tightening and tightening until she’s so tense she could crack.

she whispers his name, though it’s smothered by her palm. matty seems to hear it still, garbled and muffled, and he licks her with twice the devotion.

sunlight shines on her naked breasts. she pants, giggling to herself, always in disbelief that she’s almost coming until she’s there, she’s right—

‘honey,’ her father knocks at her door. she jumps, opening her eyes wide. ‘are you getting ready? we leave for church soon.’

‘oh, um—‘ matty fucks his fingers faster. ‘yeah, i’m almost there—‘ she bites back a scream, rolling her eyes.

‘ok. we’ll wait for you downstairs.’

as soon as his steps disappear down the hallway, she finally breaks, coming with a killed cry. the tight strings snap and delicious relief spreads through her, relaxing each limb until she’s slack on her bones. she grins loosely, feeling her head sing.

matty kisses her bud, coming up her body with a grin. ‘you’ve got church,’ he says, cheeky.

‘i do.’ she cups both his cheeks, still shortwinded. ‘will i see you there?’

‘if i can’t help it,’ matty sighs dramatically.

she gives him a small, teasing smirk. ‘maybe i can return the favor there.’

he is suddenly deadly serious. ‘i will be there.’

she giggles, giving him a small smack of lips, pushing him away when he tries to part his mouth. ‘morning breath,’ she reminds him.

already dressed from a fitful sleep, matty puts on his shoes and opens the window. she sits in bed, truly loose and relaxed. ‘thanks for the help,’ she smiles.

he throws a leg over the window sill. he winks. ‘any time.’

#pfms comeback #pray for my soul #blurb #smut #ask

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dont-f-with-moogles · 19 days

Note

Hi Terra Darling ❤️

Festive fic request with prompt number 6 "family invited an old crush/first love to a dinner party" for Levihan

My headcanons for this prompt:

Hange or Hange's family invites Zeke to a dinner party & Levi is far from happy OR fed up by Levi being single for a long time, Kuchel invites Hange to a dinner party OR Levi or Hange or their family invites an old crush (Zeke/Erwin/Petra, pick one) & it turns out they both used to date him/her lol OR you come up with your own because it will be amazing whatever you decide!!

Happy holidays 🎄❄️

Now or Never (Part 2) Characters: Levi x Petra; Levi x Hange; Mike x Nanaba Word Count: 2188 words

The dining room lay almost bare. No photographs adorned the walls; their ornaments were still wrapped in paper, stored in boxes upstairs. Even the low, wooden dining table didn’t quite suit this new room. As he sipped his wine Levi considered how it had once sat in Mike and Nanaba’s old flat, centrally occupying the square-shaped space. The table still proudly displayed the tiny tree which Hange had bought for the couple as a flat-warming present over a year ago. Of course, they had never planned to live there forever. This new dining room was longer and in want of furniture to fit it. Its walls were a pale, non offensive shade of magnolia - the exact choice of homeowners intending to cover over the marks - the mistakes - they had once made before moving on. Mike was pouring refills into their glasses. Levi placed a hand over his whilst, beside him, Petra quietly accepted.

“Come on…” Mike urged, “you’re getting the train back right?”

“I’ll take a tea instead.”

“We’ll put the kettle on after dinner.”

Reluctantly, he removed his hand.

“This it then?” Levi’s eyes shifted to the empty seat beside Mike. Of course, if they had been expecting more than two guests, then there would be a fifth floor cushion set out. Despite his uncertainty, Levi’s shoulders relaxed a little. He had experienced the same gnawing sensation when he and Petra had arrived at their house. Removing their shoes at the door, Levi had glanced down to see several discarded pairs beside theirs. He had assumed that someone had arrived before them, only to discover that they were the first.

“Yeah,” Mike replied, “Hange got caught up with an assignment as usual. Something about a deadline.”

Levi exhaled through his nose. He doubted that very much.

His hand brushed Petra’s shoulder with renewed reassurance as Nanaba appeared in the doorway. The fragrant scent of spices seemed to waft after her.

“The rice will be done in five minutes,” she announced. “Hope you guys are hungry!” “Can’t wait,” Levi commented, “... and nice place you’ve got here. What’s it like living somewhere with two floors?”

“Ah you know, it’s better than being cooped up in the flat.” Nanaba shared a sentimental glance with Mike. “We’ll miss it… but this is better. Even if we’ve got some decorating to do!”

She smiled over at Petra, who was nodding along politely despite not having been part of this previous era… an era of small apartments, of Mike and Nanaba as university graduates… of Levi and… Hange.

“So, how was your holiday? Where did you say you-” Nanaba frowned, reaching over to grab her phone from the side table. “Sorry - hold that thought. Hello?”

“It was so beautiful…. and just nice to spend time with family you know?” Petra continued to address Mike in Nanaba’s absence. “I’m sorry that I missed out on your New Year’s party though! I heard it was a fun night…”

Levi took a long sip of his wine.

“I don’t know if you’d call it much of a party,” Mike chuckled, “Nana and I were asleep just after midnight so we missed the excitement… guess you’ll have to ask Levi.”

“Hange’s outside!” Nanaba reappeared just as Levi knocked his glass sharply against the table. “Apparently they made their deadline after all.”

There came the sound of a door closing, followed by footsteps in the hall. Petra gave Levi’s arm a little squeeze. He smiled at her in response, though with a warmth which did not quite reach his eyes.

Voices echoed outside; Hange fawning over the staircase and laughing with Nanaba about the previous owner’s choice of carpet. Levi’s jaw set. Then, both of them emerged in the doorway.

“Evening!” Hange beamed around at them. Briefly, their eyes met Levi’s before they glanced away. “Sorry for almost flaking!”

“Why quit the habit of a lifetime?” Mike teased. Levi reached for his wine again. His mouth felt parched; his tongue lay heavy and useless. He craved water - something hydrating - rather than more alcohol.

“Nice to see you again Petra.” Hange gave a little bow of their head as Nanaba dragged another floor seat over to the table. “Heard you’ve just come back from your travels! Was it a good trip?”

“Oh yes, it was so beautiful and relaxing. The new year is the best time to go…”

Levi listened intently to Petra’s story for a second time, refusing to allow his eyes to stray from her face.

“...but it’s a shame I couldn’t spend New Year’s with you guys.”

Casually, Hange picked up the glass of wine which Mike had just poured.

“Oh you know, it was a quiet one in the end. Nothing much happened.”

Levi stared at them, utterly astounded by their nonchalance on the subject.

“Mike said you were all asleep just after midnight!”

“Well, Levi and Hange were up, weren’t you? Mike said he heard you both-” Nanaba walked in with a pot of steaming rice, just as Levi’s floor seat lurched out.

“Whoa!” Petra turned to her left. “Levi, what’s the hurry?”

“Seat got caught on the rug,” he lied. His eyes flew to Hange’s face who appeared quite composed by comparison. They blew out a little sigh as they lifted their glass again.

Nanaba set down the pot of rice. “No jogging the table. I’ve slaved away at this!”

Mike raised his eyebrows as Nanaba began serving heaped spoons onto plates. Petra received hers gratefully. Levi was just thankful to have something to occupy his hands.

“This smells amazing…” Hange praised her. “I love curry rice!”

“So… you had a late night, huh Levi?” Not to be deterred, Petra had rerouted from Hange’s interjection to their earlier conversation. She grinned at Levi expectantly over her plate of food. As he opened his mouth to explain, Mike cut in with a rumble of low laughter.

“Oh yeah… took him years but he finally got Hange where he’d always wanted them.”

Levi dropped his plate on the table, spilling rice onto its wooden surface

“Yeah…” Mike continued as Petra’s head whipped round, “...never thought we’d see the day, but there the two of them were, getting busy-”

Horrified, Levi willed Petra to look away from him as he frantically tried to scrape up rice grains from the wooden tabletop. He could feel her eyes on him; the more she stared, the more the tips of his ears burned.

“- at the sink.” Mike took a large spoonful of rice and curry, savouring its flavour alongside his own unendurable comedy. “Who would have thought you’d finally get Hange to wash a plate?”

Hange’s forced laugh was lost in the more genuine giggles from Nanaba and Petra. Although the threat which had been silently hanging over Levi had not fallen yet, he could still feel it swaying over his head. He set his spoon down on the side of his plate and let his trembling hand fall into his lap.

“...yeah, I heard you doing the dishes,” Mike explained as the laughter around the table died away, “...at like, four in the morning.”

“Well, a little cleaning up is the least you guys could do, seeing as you all insisted on staying at my place,” Levi muttered bitterly.

“You know we appreciated you sharing your floor with us!” Nanaba sighed, widening her eyes.

“...and some of us even got to share your bed,” Mike teased Levi again with a hearty wink.

“Gunther,” Levi told Petra automatically. He reached for his wine again. By this point, he was going to need several refills to endure the rest of the evening.

“...I’m guessing he wasn’t who you really wanted sleeping next to you that night… huh, Levi?” Nanaba joined in, much to Petra’s delighted ‘shh-ing!’

Levi waved away their jokes again, his mouth twisted as though he was being forced to chew on tiny white grubs rather than rice. As he lifted his head he caught Hange’s eye again… and held their look.

This was dangerous.

That same rising dread intensified; remained suspended over Levi as he continued doggedly through one of the most excruciating dinners of his life. And yet, there was something which threatened to consume him whole; a feeling caught halfway between fear and fascination. Like oil and water, his conflicted emotions lay beside one another; equal parts danger and desire. They could never be reconciled, but only hold firmer in the presence of one another. Ever since New Year’s, something had started to take form… something that any and all other distractions hadn’t managed to douse…

Levi felt the brush of gentle fingers on his wrist. Petra was smiling at him. He closed his hand over hers, watching as their fingers lay entwined upon his knee. He couldn’t look at Hange again.

“What was it you said that night, Levi?” Nanaba continued, “just this once, then then never again?”

Levi’s thumb stroked over Petra’s knuckles as his mind drifted back to that night. He didn’t want to remember the warmth of the blanket enclosed around his body and Hange’s. He didn’t want to breathe in their scent; to feel the heat lifting from their cheeks; to have his throat run dry as they drew towards him…

“Levi, we can sleep here and never talk about this again. Or…”

Back in the present, Levi squeezed Petra’s hand.

“And I meant it…” he managed huskily, “...you guys can stay at a hotel next time.”

In part it was due to his own habit, but also out of a desire to extract himself from the table, as Levi took up their empty plates. He carried the dishes out to the kitchen and set them beside the sink. For a moment he gazed through their kitchen window at the view of Mike and Nanaba’s new neighbourhood. Rows of detached, two-storey houses stood adorned with gleaming windows and wooden balconies. The pair of them had taken the next step of their journey… their wedding was to follow in a few months…

Behind him there came the tinkling of glass and the sound of a door closing. Levi glanced over his shoulder.

“Um… just getting more wine.” Hange lifted the bottle they had taken from the fridge. Levi uttered a throaty sound halfway between a cough and a derisive snort.

“Sure as fuck you weren’t coming to wash these up…” Levi glowered at them until Hange took a step closer. They set their glass down beside Levi’s stack of plates. Through the open door and across the hall they could both hear the chatter of the other guests.

Levi turned away and began to run the water. Behind, Hange poured a little more wine into their glass. He couldn’t help but turn his head again. Hange was checking the label as they set the bottle down. With a sigh Levi lifted a plate and sank it into the dishwater, missing Hange’s eyes as they moved over him.

“Levi… do you want…”

He shifted around again to look at them. His mouth dried up before he could speak. He took in Hange’s broad shoulders beneath their white shirt; the deep, rich brown of their imploring eyes… There was always something so earnest, so fearless in their expression.

Levi’s eyes remained upon their face.

“...I’ll leave the bottle here.” They turned to leave the room, but stopped after taking a step. When they spoke again, their tone was low, conspiratorial.

“You know I won’t say anything, right…?”

Levi felt a ripple of tension travel down his arms. His hand seized up; the brush he was holding clattered onto the kitchen floor.

“Anyway, nothing happened that night…” Hange gave a little laugh without a trace of humour in it, “...after all, you made it pretty clear what you wanted.”

Slowly, they began to approach him.

“Just like I have to… right now.” Hange was smiling at him, a gentle blush dusting their cheeks. “You know when it’s your shot right? Now or never…”

The air itself lay thick and heavy. Levi was rooted to the spot, his mind clouded with them as they took another step. Oil and water. They couldn’t- Petra was seated in the next room, laughing with their friends.

Again, he remembered the blanket that had embraced them as they lay together on his couch. Levi could feel their warm breath on his mouth. It was just the two of them under night’s black canopy, threaded with the lights of a million stars. Whilst the rest of the world had slept, they had lain so closely together… they had almost…

“So Levi…”

Hange’s lip trembled before their jaw set. Behind their glasses, their eyes were glazed with a love so profound that it took Levi’s breath away.

“If I told you now that… despite it all… bad timing, lack of communication, people and work and life getting in the way… despite my initial hypothesis and all the test runs in my head… my findings are still the same.”

Hange took a shuddering breath.

“You are all I ever wanted. That’s… what I’ve decided.”

He felt their fingers trace his shirt sleeve.

“...what about you, Levi?”

Part 1: Now or Never (NSFW)

#sorry I kind of ran with my own thing!#hope you like it Val <3 #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihan #levi x hange #petra ral #rivetra #levi x petra #mike zacharias #aot nanaba #mikenana #mike x nanaba #aot vets #tw cheating #attack on titan #snk #my writing

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agendabymooner · 10 months

Text

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (6)

Summary: Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Toto makes it harder for her to not flirt in front of the cameras, and with the comfort that came with it, Tilly doesn’t even see the bad parts of the media. Not until the next day.

Content warning: Age-gap, mention of Kimi Raikkonen flirting, whipped!Tilly and Toto caught in 4K, touchy feely vibes, brief use of explicit language

Note: We getting that communications studies degree starting this fall 😩 omw to bag that f1 money ykwim 🙈

Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 140 FOLLOWERS?! You guys are batshit crazy and I love you all for it. I hope my cracked-out thoughts somehow made your day… or more. Here’s another chapter for our dearly beloved Toto. Enjoy xx

masterlist

vi. love on camera

I’ve been with the sky sports people for almost three hours now. My feet are thankful for sticking to a pair of low pump heels instead of running around the paddock and garage with a five inch heel.

And I’ve been thanking myself for dressing well enough today. It doesn’t even look like I’m here as a support for Red Bull. My linen shirt is loosely tucked in my bell-bottom jeans, two buttons are undone to allow the air to flow freely through my body. The Chanel belt hugs me so tight, I feel as if I have little to no oxygen to breathe in. A Red Bull jacket is worn over my shirt, and I left it unzipped as I feel warm.

I had never worked on a full live set before. It was nerve wracking to say the least. But after finding out that my father practically sold me, I feel as if I have nothing to lose. Suddenly I’m worse than a pessimist.

My sisters made sure to tell me that I’m live on television by sending filtered photos of myself. Our youngest sister is the one having the field day with the group chat. She’s been showing her friends that I’m on television. She better be thankful I love her. I never enjoyed being the topic of a discussion. I’ve heard enough from Christian, thank you.

So far, I haven’t thrown up nor fainted. That counts right? That means that my first two interviews went alright. I just have to laugh along. That’s what I did with Fernando and Kimi. They just laughed along, and flirted a little with me.

Or rather, Fernando joked and Kimi flirted; something about going for a drink? Yeah, certainly. The man doesn’t even talk much, but the Iceman definitely suggested we went for a drink (the right words were: “There’s a bar downstairs at the hotel that you may like.”) Fernando’s married and has a nearly year old baby— I would really hate to do something demoralizing.

It turns out, laughing along with their banter will bite me in the ass. Because I know my sisters will be the ones laughing at the television.

The cameras are already recording and I can’t hear myself speaking as I introduce Lewis and Nico Rosberg to the camera as if I’m speaking to an audience. Then I remember talking about the qualifying today, asking Nico about taking the pole for tomorrow.

My words are simply flowing out of my mouth as the interview goes on.

“Are you excited?” Few minutes passed by, I then turned to ask Lewis a question.

“For wha’?” He asks, obviously confused as he zoned out during my conversation with Nico.

“Home race? You coming from Britain and representing the country?” I remind him before joking, “Or did you forget you’re British too?”

“I certainly did,” he realizes what I meant just about now, “but yes. I’m very excited. If the weather treats me right tomorrow, I’m confident that I’ll be able to make it to somewhere of a higher rank.”

“It’s okay, Lewis,” I chuckle, Nico rolls his eyes beside me. “You can say P1. No one’s going to be against that.”

“You want me to get P1?” He teases me.

My face gives an incredulous expression, making him laugh. I joke, “I feel like I’ve told you this a million times now, Lewis. Do you want me to whisper it in your ears while you sleep too?”

“God, no,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “your support is highly appreciated, Tils. I am so glad you’re here.”

“That’s why you should go for P1 tomorrow,” I nudged him, microphone still in hand.

“Only for you, lovely,” he lips pucker up as I roll my eyes and place my flat palm against it. He murmurs against my palm, making people around us giggle.

Nico adds, “I think you shouldn’t appreciate her support that much, mate. She still works at Red Bull.”

Lewis finally pulls away and gives me a mocking dirty look, “Right. I knew there’s something dodgy about you.”

“Thanks Nico, for turning my own best friend against me,” I exclaim in a cheery tone, a smile still in my face as there’s a voice incoming. There he is.

My smile widens, I feel like I’ll have wrinkles at this early age. The space immediately shrunk when Toto stepped into the scene. He stands a few inches taller than me, interrupting his drivers’ interviews.

“And here we have,” I introduce him to the camera and ask him about his thoughts on his drivers’ positions for tomorrow. I absentmindedly nod, looking at Lewis and Nico here and there to avoid being caught staring at the tall bloke. Have you ever seen someone so fit you’d continuously waffle on about them until he gives you the chance to snog you? This certainly isn’t me talking.

“Are you supporting Lewis tomorrow?” He asks me with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Surely you are, right?”

“I’m wearing a Red Bull jacket, guys,” their voices let out the heaviest laughter I have ever heard. “I’m certainly supporting Lewis, a Mercedes driver, to win tomorrow. Me, someone who’s wearing a Red Bull jacket.”

Then, as I was chatting with the drivers, Toto pulls his sleeves up and takes off his black jacket, the three pointed star and his name embroidered. His outstretched hand holds the jacket in my direction as I pause from talking.

“What, what is this?” I ask, almost playfully. What’s he doing?

“You said you can’t support Lewis because you’re wearing a Red Bull jacket,” Toto shrugs with a cheeky smile, “you can have my Mercedes one. It’s a bit big but so is your jacket.”

“I really am jesting, Toto,” I giggle, watching him pull his hand back with a little smile. “I’ve said that I won’t be playing favourites so I will stick to my neutral place.”

Lewis reaches for the microphone and speaks over it, “She’s lying. She’ll support me regardless of what jacket she wears. Us Brits have to stick together.”

“There you have it, folks,” I gesture at Lewis, “he’s explained it perfectly well. Us Brits have to stick together, indeed. I hope I don’t get banned from my own workplace after this— if I did, thanks Mercedes.”

“Well we told you that we’d be more than willing to take you in,” I look at Toto as he smirks, “it would be a shame for their part if they let you go.”

“You lads flatter me so much,” I roll my eyes mockingly, grinning at the three as I say, “As I said, I’m supporting Lewis because it’s Lewis. I did not say I favour one team over the other.”

“You will, soon enough,” Nico chuckles.

Lewis pulls me in and says, “If I win tomorrow you should do what you have to do.”

“What do I have to do?” I ask him, wondering what he’s hinting at.

He shrugs and whispers to my ear, “Go on a date with Toto.”

I pull back and stare at him for a second. I really considered that huh. As if I hadn’t gone already.

“I have already. So don’t get too cocky, eh,” I tell him, his eyes widening as he eyes Toto for a second, my nudge tells him to stop as I dismiss the matter, “having an ego can get you places. But not P1.”

“Watch me,” Lewis grins at me. Like a piece of shit. His eyes also are asking me to tell him more about what was just revealed. I nod briefly, excited to tell him about it.

“Well,” I look at the camera, “that’s it for today. Tomorrow will be the 9th race of the 2014 FIA World Championship and we cannot wait to see how these drivers perform in such weather conditions. Best of luck to all. My name is Tilly and I hope you have a good night. Thank you once again, guys.”

It didn’t take long until the wires on my body were taken off by Lydia, their media pen assistant. Nico and Lewis had already left. Toto waits for me until I start walking off the scene.

We walk all the way to the motorhomes, silence shared between the two of us.

“You left quite fast earlier,” Toto utters. This is the first time we’ve walked together since earlier this morning, and this is the first time he’s spoken to me after I’ve managed to avoid him hours after the breakfast date. I look at him.

Then I remember walking away from the scene after arriving at the venue. Now I know what to tell him after seeing me speed walk from the sight of him and the journalists.

“Some of the reporters in there were the same people who harass me whenever I’m out and about,” I explain, not wanting to make a big deal out of it as I continue, “I didn’t want to be the centre of the attention today especially now that… yeah.”

“With you interviewing the drivers for Sky Sports, I can assume Christian told you about Julius’ promotion?”

I let out a heavy sigh, shutting my eyes close for a moment as I tuck my hands into the pockets. How do I not lose my shit?

“It’s something Julius needs to speak to me about,” I grimace, “if he wants me to do this then he’ll have to tell me upfront.”

But it’s not like he’ll ever show up. I’ve never seen him since the day I was called to his office building. That was when I was told about this role that I didn’t think would be… important and big.

“He’s a bit more involved than I thought,” I laugh humourlessly, “I don’t even know how to start with it. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re just handling however much you can,” he tells me, “Christian and the others are more than happy to help you get a head start. You don’t have to get yourself involved with the engineering and strategy part.”

“I have three degrees,” I deadpan, “three of which have nothing to do with building a car, let alone know the full terminologies. So between my father and I, I think I have less advantage in this field and he’ll most likely fail if I’m the one taking care of it.”

He pauses for a second, making me stop walking as well. My eyes are staring at his dark ones, my brows quirked at his sudden pause.

“You are confident in front of a camera,” he starts, “I think you should be confident with how you will handle the business passed on to you, no?”

“Yeah I suppose,” I sigh, putting my head down as I keep my hands tucked into my pockets. “I need to stop being sad.”

But his chuckle did it for me. That and the way his heavy hand reached to mess with my hair. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?” I ask him, looking up at him once more only to witness his eyes twinkling.

“Back to the hotel because we all have a long day tomorrow,” he tells me, “that, and I do not exactly wish to have a conversation with any other people at the moment.”

“Pshh,” I scoff with a grin, nudging him while I wag my eyebrows, “I have heard a lot about you from Christian.”

“Huh? Really?” He asks, his face has a mischievous smile that I’ll never mistake for someone else’s. I’ve seen him smile a lot. It’s quite a shame other people never did. He’s handsome and not many people have seen it. Too bloody blind, if they haven’t.

Or he needs to smile more. But that’ll only scare people off.

“Yeah,” I nod, “something about you deliberately approaching him yesterday?” I raise a brow, still not letting go of my shit eating grin. I then notice the collar of his jacket and reach out to fix it as I playfully say, “Some may say that you’re interested in their acting Liaison.”

“Hmm,” he hums as if he’s considering it, “did I not show you that earlier today at breakfast?”

I burst into a fit of laughter as I shake my head, as if I’m telling him, “Unbelievable.”

Have I ever mentioned that this is happening around other people? People with cameras?

And here I am whining about adding fuel to the fire. It’s quite difficult not to if the man in front of me continues on doing what he does best. Existing.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one imagine #formula one x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fic #toto wolff fanfiction #mercedes amg imagine #formula one fluff #f1 fiction #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic

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heliads · 2 months

Note

If requests are still open :) Something for dead poets society, just sth with the gang having a good time, maybe trying to stage a play in the woods? Tbh just a everyone lives and is happy AU with fluff and winter and hot tea! (while I love this book I havent read it in a very long time...)

ok consider an everyone lives au but they are not 100% happy. (i am incapable of not writing angst my apologies) also this is movie dead poets society not book because i have not yet read the books whoops. hope you enjoy xoxo

'and it's not tonight' - dead poets society

masterlist

Todd Anderson is looking out the window at a gray, blustery morning, when they ask him if he’s going to be alright. It wasn’t quite certain before then. It’s not quite certain now, either, even after he answers.

“Of course,” he says somewhat unconvincingly, “Why do you ask?”

Behind him, Charlie Dalton raises a dubious brow. For once in his life, he’s holding himself back, but the situation requires discretion, and who is he to mess up at a time like this? He’s already been warned about treating Todd like a glass doll rather than a paper mache target, but even Charlie can tell that now is the time to pull a few punches. The hollows under his friend’s eyes are far darker than they were a couple of months ago. He wears unease like a well-traveled coat, thin at the elbows and rubbed raw at the seams.

“Look at yourself,” Charlie answers at last, “You’re exhaustion walking. And don’t tell me otherwise, I’ve got eyes.”

“I should hope so,” Todd remarks, and permits himself a small curl of his lips up into a half-smile. Half-smiles are good, though. Almost there to the real thing. So he’ll tell himself, at least.

Even a half-smile can let Charlie know that he’s alright. The other boy breaks into a well-intentioned snorting laugh. “Hey, ask any girl in town and they’ll tell you I’ve got beautiful ones. ‘Sides, Anderson, you know everything’s alright. The stuff with Neil was cleared over, right? He came back.”

“He came back,” Todd repeats somewhat weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, he came back,” Charlie confirms, walking over to clap his friend on the shoulder, shaking him a little bit just to mess with him but mainly to get his affections across. “He’s a little more tired than he used to be, and we’re all plenty scared from what could have happened, but overall we’re glad to see him again. His parents realized they messed up in the nick of time, and even if they wanted him under watch for a little bit, he’s back and we’re back and everything’s alright. Capiche?” He asks dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows for a bit of flair.

“Since when are you Italian?” Todd asks doubtfully.

“Since the situation requires it,” Charlie answers him, and slings an arm around the boy’s bony frame. “Come on now. The snow’s cleared up, and even if all that does is remind us how little grass grows on our campus, it means we can go into the woods again. I’ve been talking to the boys and we all agree that it’s time to dust off our finesse with literature. What do you say, Todd? You up for another rousing poetic exchange tonight?”

Todd jerks his head up and down in a hasty agreement. “Yeah. Neill’ be there?”

“Yeah, and me, and Knoxie, and everyone else you forgot to mention,” Charlie says in a tone of mock outrage. “God, you live with the guy, don’t you? Can’t you spare some excitement for the rest of us, too?”

Todd rolls his eyes, and finds the grace to elbow Charlie in the ribs. “Spare me the self-indulgence, Dalton. I’m glad to see all of you.”

“Don’t I know it,” Charlie affirms. “It’s been a while since we were all together, yeah?”

Todd blows out a low breath as they walk back towards the halls. It has been a long time, or it felt that way, at least. After the– after the incident after the play, in which Neil was found in his father’s study with a gun in his hands about to blow the trigger, it was decided that all of the pupils of Welton Academy would go home for a short period of time to clear their heads and come back ready to face the end of term.

Mainly, Todd thinks it was so rumors couldn’t spread about just what happened with Neil Perry to take him out of school, and he’s glad for it. Neil doesn’t deserve to have everyone whispering about what happened to make him decide that the best thing for his life was to end it. Neil deserves the world, and none of them could give it to him.

That was the worst part of it all, Todd decides. The guilt, how it wrapped around him in wires as strong as the heaviest chains of iron. He couldn’t escape it. If he was really Neil’s friend, he would have known. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd could have stopped him. If he was really Neil’s friend, Todd wouldn’t have found out about the attempt the next morning, quietly awoken from drowsy sleep by a Charlie Dalton with eyes like a stricken soldier as he lurchingly informed Todd that Neill Perry had tried to kill himself the night before. And none of them had known. And when his father had taken the gun away, Neil fought and screamed for it, worse than he did when he tried to convince his parents that he wanted to act, louder than he protested that he would be sent away to military school.

And then they were alone. At home. The worst place for boys to be. Should you grieve the friend who is not dead? Do you call each other on the phone, and ask if you have been playing any sporting games with other boys your age, or if you have given any thought to the fact that your friend might not have wanted to die if you had praised him more in class, or clapped louder when he performed, or said something– anything– to this beautiful, brittle boy?

They don’t say any of that. They think it quite loudly, but unspoken thoughts do not travel well over the telephone. The flittering ghosts of would-be words tend to get lodged in the coils of wire from receiver to housing, across the street and over the miles of terrain until they reach the abode of the boy on the end, who also has a lot to say but won’t. And then they both stay silent. And they both know exactly what the other wanted to say anyway. That is how friendship works.

They came back, though. Welton sent out a series of letters to usher back the pupils, even had its secretaries working overtime to call the people who never seem to answer their mail. There was another rush of cars and luggage to the dorms, and then they were settled in again. Todd had wondered if he might be assigned another roommate– anyone other than Cameron, God, but preferably Neil still– and then the door had opened quietly and Neil was there again, trying for a brave smile, and saying, “Todd?” in a voice that had once rung pure and true through a theater that loved him.

Todd loves him for it. He’d embraced Neill with open arms, felt the air punch out of his lungs in one strike, but it came back. He came back. They were alright again, sort of. They might be alright in time, but time is what they have.

Now they’ve all been waiting for the snow to melt, and treading on thin ice around topics they don’t dare broach. Neil has been a good sport, never making them feel awkward for wanting to treat him like a china doll. He was good before, too, though, and– It gets hard to tell sometimes, that’s all. Hard to tell when he genuinely is unbothered and when he’s superbly good at pretending otherwise. They stick to safer subjects anyway.

At last, though, the ground is firm, the weather not terrible, and Charlie’s gone and rallied the troops for a night out there. At first, Todd’s first instinct is to panic. They aren’t supposed to be having any more meetings of the Dead Poets Society, not since Keating was the scapegoat for all the trouble and everyone cracked down on what makes a good boy want to escape, but over time he realizes that it’ll be alright. Some things are worth the risk. Making Neil smile again is one of them.

They meet at midnight. Todd sits awake with bated breath, even though the act by itself isn’t even all that unusual. They’re teenage boys. Staying up until the moon hangs high and lofty in the sky is expected, not uncommon. Still, a delicious shiver of inherent wrongdoing whispers down his spine when Neil walks slowly into the center of their shared dorm room and says quietly, reverently, “It’s time.”

As if the others had been waiting upon that very proclamation, the remaining boys peer out into the hall immediately after Neil and Todd silently close their door behind them. Their eyes meet with shared secrecy, shared triumph, and they make their way down the wooden stairs and out into the bristling chill of night. The stars are out tonight. We are all out tonight.

They all start heading out into the woods. Charlie takes off like a flash at the end of a matchstick, hurtling at a runner’s sprint across the hills, and the others follow him at varying speeds. Todd begins walking at a normal clip until it occurs to him that he doesn’t see enough heads bobbing around him and he turns to see Neil hesitating by the door.

They lock eyes, and Todd sees a whole host of things swimming in brown irises, fear and apprehension and a sick sort of guilt that makes Todd’s stomach squirm in sympathy. He gives Neil one last moment over the threshold, then jerks his head towards the others, putting a little faux arrogance into the gesture in the hopes that an actor might appreciate an act in someone else and remember what it is like to trust oneself again.

Neil accepts the move and grins, his teeth flashing in the moonlight. “I’ll race you to the caves,” he calls, and begins to run, his footsteps sure and strong.

Todd stares after him, an astronomer watching his first comet, then takes off after him. The grass is dry and quick under his feet, spread out under each footstep like the wake of a speedboat. The wind, already coarse, pulls at Todd’s skin, his hair, his clothes, but not even the strongest gusts could keep him down. Somehow, he’s already to the edge of the forest, and he lets out a loud, delighted whoop. A barbaric yawp, if you will. Somewhere in the back of Todd’s mind, a dark-haired man in a comfortable brown sweater smiles indulgently, and chalks up another small victory to the wonders of poetry.

The second his war cry leaves Todd’s throat, the other boys swarm him like moths to a flame. Someone claps a hand over his mouth, and around him, laughs echo into the crunching of leaves underfoot.

“Don’t be so loud, you’ll get the professors on us in no time,” someone admonishes, but then a different boy cuts in, “Don’t be stupid, we’re far enough out that we can all be shouting,” and Todd’s punishment is lifted and he can yell once more. His defender– Neil, it must be, no one else can make their voice ring with glory like that in just a few words– joins in in the triumphant calls, and then they’re all shrieking up to the stars above, here we are, not boys and not men, bold enough to scream and young enough to never listen.

Todd thinks, as they run through the forest, that it’s been a while since he let himself go free. He hasn’t listened to his mind in a long time, hasn’t let the words roll around in his brain, loose marbles of similes and paraphrased poems. His musings are dusty, dark things most of the time, but sometimes the light catches them just right and they glow like sapphires. He could write a thousand stanzas if he wanted to, right now, and everyone would listen.

The Dead Poets Society reaches the caves and a hush falls among the crowd. Slowly, they edge inside, eyes wide. The rock faces and crumbling caverns should be different, Todd thinks, something should mark the passage of time and all the awful things that have twisted their fates since the last time they sat together and thought of prose, but the stones still look as they did the last time they were here. The moss grows in familiar patterns, albeit a little thicker in certain patches now that it hasn’t been scuffed by boots in a month or so, but one of Charlie’s magazines that he forgot to take back with him turns up under some spiderwebs, and Todd’s favorite place to sit is still just as inviting. Maybe, then, the only thing that changed was them. Maybe that’s all that needs to happen.

“So?” Meeks asks, settling into a seat, “What are we doing tonight?”

“Poetry, duh,” Charlie answers him, rolling his eyes fondly. “We’re the Dead Poets Society. What else would we do, peruse our textbooks?”

This earns him a vengeful swat on the shoulder from Meeks, but even Charlie can admit that the question was fair. They’ve read plenty of poems, they’ve written a few, they’ve even gone off and run some improv limerick challenges, although Todd notes that they haven’t brought nearly enough alcohol for that tonight.

After a few moments’ thought, someone suggests a play. It might be Todd. Instantly, the idea is accepted, and roles are divided out. They’ll be doing Hamlet, since there are plenty of long sticks outside and everyone is quite fond of the idea of pretending to run each other through. Pitts is already practicing his death rattles, except he’s not very good at it, and it sounds more like he’s hacking up a lung or two.

Neil, though, is glowing at the idea, and even though they haven’t got any scripts so everyone is mostly just planning on paraphrasing the hell out of one of William Shakespeare’s finer works, Todd gets the idea that Neil has a few memorized soliloquies rattling around in his head already.

Good, then. They’ll enjoy tonight, and the next night they’re out here, and the one after that, too. It has been a very long winter, but Todd has caught his first glimpse of new spring, and he gets the feeling that warmer, sunnier days aren’t the impossibility they seemed a few weeks ago. The days are healing, and they will too. And so the Dead Poets come back to life.

requested by @reinekes-fox, i hope you enjoy!

dead poets society tag list: @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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cha-melodius · 8 months

Note

This is very exciting I can’t wait to read what you come up with.

For me?

Firstprince. A corner office.

(HELLO LOVELY thank you for this prompt, and I hope you enjoy the finished product. 💕)

chamel’s fandom fest info | read all the fics

Step Into My Office, Baby

(firstprince, 2.4k, E; read it below or on AO3)

Henry is staring out the window at the southern end of Central Park when he hears a very familiar cadence of footsteps entering the office behind him. A moment later, Alex gives a low whistle.

“Look at you, Mr Fancy Pants with the corner office,” he says, his voice low and teasing and shot through with fondness.

Henry still winces slightly. “I did try to turn it down.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re an idiot,” Alex says. He’s leaning up against the door frame, his legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded in front of his chest. It’s late in the day, and he’s shed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbow, revealing muscular forearms that Henry can’t keep his gaze from lingering on. When he manages to force his eyes up, Alex is smirking at him. “You earned it, H. Fair and square.”

If anyone had told Henry two years ago that this moment would happen, he would have laughed in their face. To say he and Alex did not get along at first would be putting it mildly. Or rather, Alex resented Henry and everything he embodied, and Henry saw the benefit of keeping Alex at a distance even as they were forced to share an office. Then, getting accidentally locked in the building overnight together yielded a tentative truce, and a fast friendship had bloomed in its wake. It’s been lovely and also dreadful, because now Henry is constantly forced to weather his warm smiles and his teasing smirks and his bloody forearms.

The owner of which is currently flopping bodily onto Henry’s new couch and wiggling his hips in a completely obscene manner as he gets comfortable.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna fucking live in here,” Alex tells him as he stretches his arms up and tucks his hands behind his head.

Yes, nothing to worry about at all.

~~~~~

The corner office comes with promotion and a whole heap of new responsibilities, and Henry quite quickly finds himself drowning in work beyond the long hours he’s used to spending with Alex at the office. He’s in the middle of a particularly terrible stretch at the moment, the looming deadline somehow simultaneously the light at the end of the tunnel and the headlamp of an oncoming train. Alex has been in the thick of it too, working late nights beside him, though that apparently doesn’t include tonight.

Henry loves him—truly, to his endless misery—but he needs to work, not listen to Alex chattering aimlessly while he sits on Henry’s couch tossing M&Ms into the air and catching them in his mouth.

“I was thinking about Thai,” he says, as if it isn’t gone one in the morning. “D’you think Noodies is still open?”

“No,” Henry huffs. They’ve been closed for three hours, and Alex knows this. “Why are you still here, anyway?” he snaps without meaning to, immediately regretting it when Alex’s face falls.

“Well, I was keeping you company and making sure you don’t collapse into an endless spiral of work like a fucking black hole, but I guess Mr Corner Office is too important to need anyone’s help,” Alex sneers, pushing himself angrily to his feet.

Christ, they haven’t spoken to each other like this since that horrible first year, and even more than the work, that’s what finally breaks Henry. Alex is halfway to the door by the time Henry catches him by the elbow, and he jerks out of Henry’s grasp immediately. Thankfully, he does stop, though the glare he levels at Henry does a poor job at masking the hurt written on his face.

“Alex, wait,” Henry pleads. He lets out a heavy sigh, dragging a hand over his face. Christ, he’s too bloody exhausted for this. “I’m sorry. It’s just this project is driving me batty. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Well,” Alex says, fidgeting as he frowns down at the ground. “You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” He sighs as he looks up again. “But I get it. They’re putting too much on you.”

Henry reaches out and puts a tentative hand on his elbow again; this time, he’s not shrugged off. “Can you forgive the stuck up prick in the corner office who takes everyone else for granted?”

“That guy?” Alex snorts. “No. But you’re not that guy, H.”

“I feel like him sometimes.”

“C’mere,” Alex mumbles, and the next thing Henry knows he’s being tugged into a tight hug.

It’s not the first time they’ve hugged, but it’s the first time it’s been so fierce, and it feels like it fundamentally shifts something inside Henry. Alex winds his fingers into Henry’s collar and buries his face in his neck, and it’s all Henry can do to hang on like he’s clinging to a life preserver in a storm.

Except somehow, Alex is both the life preserver and the storm.

~~~~~

When the project finally wraps up, it’s a big deal, and the whole office celebrates accordingly.

“Work hard, play hard,” Alex sing-songs with a wink as he fills Henry’s champagne flute again.

He’s been ricocheting around the room, putting that patented Claremont-Diaz charm to good use. There’s almost certainly a promotion with his name on it after all of this, so he has more than enough reason to celebrate. He’s already been teasing Henry about stealing his office. Henry feels jubilant, effervescent like the bubbles bursting in his glass, and he forgets to be self-conscious about the way he watches Alex. Forgets to school his expression. Forgets not to smile too broadly when Alex hooks an arm around his neck and hangs off him like a monkey.

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” Alex says all at once, tugging him toward the door of the massive conference room that’s serving as the party hub.

“You quite literally just poured me a new drink,” Henry points out.

“So bring it with you. C’mon,” he almost whines, which should not be as endearing as it is. He’s unleashing his most devastating giant brown puppy dog eyes. Henry never stood a chance.

“Where are we going?”

“I just need a breather,” Alex sighs heavily. He drags Henry down the office corridors at nearly a jog, until the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses fade away, all the way to the open door of Henry’s office. At Henry’s cocked eyebrow, he laughs. “Best view in the building.”

He doesn’t walk over to the bank of windows, though. Once Henry’s inside the door, he pushes it shut, sealing them off from the rest of the office. Then he returns to Henry’s side and plucks the champagne flute from his hand. He downs half of it in one go, laughs at Henry’s affronted “hey!” as he deposits the glass on the desk, and grabs the fronts of Henry’s jacket before he starts walking backward across the office. Henry can’t help but laugh helplessly at Alex’s chaotic manhandling, at least until Alex stumbles into the couch and he’s dragged down by Alex’s dead weight dropping out from under him. They land in a giggling heap, and Christ, he’s in Alex’s lap, but when he tries to disentangle himself, he feels Alex’s grip go tight at his hip. An arm slides around his waist, loose enough not to be demanding, but firm enough to prevent him from moving away.

Oh.

Startled, he looks down at Alex, whose cheeks are flushed a dusty rose from the champagne and the exertion, who’s breathing heavily through pink lips temptingly parted as he stares back up with his bottomless dark eyes. He isn’t laughing anymore.

“I like this office,” Alex murmurs. “Something about it settles me. When I’m here.” His grip shifts on Henry’s hip, fingers tightening. “With you.”

“Alex,” Henry whispers, barely daring to breathe.

One corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. “Maybe it’s not the office.”

It’s impossible to tell which of them moves first to close the narrow gap between them, lips meeting in a fierce, hungry press that quickly deepens. Alex nearly bites at his lips, dragging his teeth along their inner edges, and it shouldn’t work for him but fuck, it really does. Henry finds himself pressing closer, revelling in the way that Alex’s arms tighten to bring their bodies together as he sinks his fingers into Alex’s curls.

“Christ, I never thought you’d want—” Henry starts, though he doesn’t manage to finish that train or thought before he’s diving in to kiss the corner of Alex’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Alex breathes as he tips his head back to give him better access, “me neither.”

“What?” Henry asks, huffing a soft laugh against his skin.

“I mean, does anyone expect to fall in love with their work nemesis?”

That makes Henry pull back and stare down at him in shock. “You’re—”

“In love with you?” Alex finishes. There’s an impossibly soft look on his face, but it’s undercut by a flicker of nervousness. “Yeah, baby. Head over fucking heels.”

Henry feels himself tremble at baby, which is an entirely novel experience, though perhaps not unexpected given how his usual reaction when Alex teasingly calls him sweetheart. He’s so fucking overwhelmed that the only thing he can manage to do is lean in and kiss Alex again, slow and tender and full of all the words and emotions threatening to choke him. He presses his forehead to Alex’s when they part, and for a moment they just breathe together—unconsciously, perfectly, in sync. It’s everything he never let himself imagine, all those late nights together, all those meetings and emails and coffees delivered with sunny smiles that he refused to read into. Alex is warm and solid under him now, grabbing his waist as they kiss and kiss and it becomes heated again, until he’s rocking his hips up eagerly to meet Henry’s in a way that is rapidly going to become a problem.

Especially since Alex seems to find it not a problem at all.

“Wait, Alex, we can’t—” Henry tries, biting down on a groan when Alex palms over his hardening cock before making quick work of his belt and the fastening of his trousers, “—the windows.”

As if that’s the most troubling thing about them having sex in Henry’s office while half the company is just down the hall.

“We’re on the fiftieth floor, baby, no one’s gonna see,” Alex says, undeterred, grinning wickedly as he slips a hand into Henry’s boxers.

Right, then, that’s… good enough, actually. Henry’s been waiting for this for two and a half bloody years and he’s not really inclined to wait any longer. He kisses the smile off Alex’s face as he sets to work on the buttons of Alex’s shirt, rapidly pulling them open so he can get his hands on more of Alex’s skin. And Christ, he’d known Alex was fit—it’s hard not to know, with how ridiculously tightly cut he wears his suits—but it’s another thing altogether to drag his palms over the swell of his pecs and the hard lines of his stomach. Alex bites down hard on his lower lip when Henry tweaks one of his nipples, then retaliates by twisting his palm with just the right amount of pressure over the head of Henry’s cock. Henry moans as his hips buck up into Alex’s grip, chasing the friction that borders on just this side of too much.

“What do you want, baby?” Alex murmurs against his lips, and ‘everything’ feels like too big a concept in the moment, so Henry chokes out, “Just this, just you—” and lets himself get lost in the feeling of Alex’s hands on his skin. He’s so unbelievably worked up that it’s not long before the tension building in his groin is reaching a breaking point, but it’s looking down that finally does him in—watching the head of his cock appear and disappear within the tight circle of Alex’s long fingers, brown skin against dark pink. He tumbles over the edge with a choked off laugh, clinging desperately to Alex as he works him through it, until he’s hissing at the point of oversensitivity.

For a moment he just breathes, his face buried in Alex’s shoulder, mindful of Alex shifting slightly beneath him even if he’s trying not to be obvious about it.

“Not trying to harsh your afterglow here, but d’ya think you could move so I could get a tissue or something?” Alex asks eventually.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Henry rasps, dropping his hands to the fastenings of Alex’s trousers. He shifts back to get a better angle and tugs Alex’s boxers down enough to release his cock, long and rock hard and leaking at the tip, then takes Alex’s hand covered in his come and wraps it around his shaft with his own, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh,” Alex gasps, his hips immediately rocking up into their combined grip, Henry’s come slicking the way and filling the silence of the office with some of the most obscene sounds Henry’s ever heard.

He lets Alex set the pace, which starts out as a slow drag and rapidly picks up tempo, until Alex is quivering under him and swearing in at least two languages. Alex tips his head back against the couch, and Henry can’t resist ducking down to scrape his teeth along the long column of muscle so temptingly laid bare before him. The movement seems to make every muscle in Alex’s body tense up, and then he’s coming with a “Fuck, baby,” that has Henry groaning along with him.

They clean up quietly, trading soft kisses that they occasionally get lost in, setting each other to rights enough so that they can— well, perhaps not return to the party, but at least leave the building. Henry doubts that their absence has been noticed, anyway.

“Jesus, I’ve been wanting to do that since you got this office,” Alex groans once they’re done, pushing a hand through curls as he stretches slightly where he sits on the couch.

“What, that specifically?” Henry asks, furrowing his brow at him.

“I mean, more or less,” Alex admits. One side of his mouth tugs upward into a smirk. “To be fair I think I’ve imagined every possible way of taking you apart on this couch.”

“Christ, Alex.”

Alex grins broadly and shifts over to press his lips to the corner of Henry’s mouth. “You wanna hear the list?”

“You’re an incorrigible delinquent,” Henry protests, letting himself be drawn into another kiss. Then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of Alex’s ear, and whispers, “Tell me at home.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

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