#(to be clear. this too is a joking exaggeration out of fondness.)

[pin-k-ink]

rendezvous // nanami kento

tw ⇢ implied age gap, possessive!nanami, sexual tension, teasing, gloryhole, fingering, grinding, dub-con, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, biting, rough sex

wc ⇢ 6.4k

The door to Nanami's apartment burst open without preamble, the familiar whirlwind of energy you'd come to associate with your personal brand of chaos already whipping through the space.

"Nanami-san!" Your melodious voice rang out in greeting before you even fully crossed the threshold. "You'll never guess what outrageous thing just happ---ooh..."

Your impish flow of words stuttered to an abrupt halt as you caught sight of Nanami emerging from the bathroom. A towel hung precariously low around those slender hips you'd admired far too many times, leaving miles of toned muscle and glistening skin distractingly on display.

Despite your own tendency to flirt shamelessly, you still felt heat blossoming across your cheekbones at the unexpectedly intimate sight. Somehow you managed to rally enough to let your eyes perform a very slow, unabashed rake down the ridge of his abdomen and back up again.

"Well hello there, Nanami-san," you purred with a devilish lilt, emboldened by the brief flare of something akin to panic flickering across his typically unruffled features. "Don't mind me, please...continue putting on a show."

There it was - that fractional tightening at the corners of his clear grey eyes that signaled you'd successfully managed to rattle him, if only momentarily. Nanami tugged the towel a bit higher with an air of lofty disregard even as he arched one cool brow.

"You're incorrigible, you realize that?" His deep timbre managed to convey fond exasperation despite the husky undercurrent your mind unhelpfully insisted on reading into. "What part of boundaries or personal space fails to register with that troublesome brain of yours?"

You made a big show of propping your chin in your palms and appeared to consider his faux-stern chiding with exaggerated seriousness. "Well, now that you mention it...wiggling my way into your personal space uninvited is one of my favorite hobbies. Especially when you react like that."

Relishing the sight of the muscle feathering along Nanami's squared jawline, you punctuated your remark with another shameless once-over that had him huffing out a longsuffering sigh. You counted it as a victory any time that impeccably stoic facade chipped even a little.

"You're insufferable," he muttered again, somehow managing to infuse the insult with grudging fondness even as his eyes glittered like flint. "Well? Out with it then. What petulant nonsense demands my attention this time?"

Waving a hand carelessly, you straightened and finally tore your roving gaze away from the feast for the eyes that was Nanami's physique. "Oh, you know...the usual. One of your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers was being a disrespectful ass, prompting me to put him squarely in his place. By which I mean I may have given him a black eye..."

Nanami simply stared at you for a long beat, clearly trying to discern if you were joking or not. When your bright, innocent expression didn't crack, he blew out an exasperated sigh and scrubbed one hand down his face.

"Of course you did..." He muttered the words more to himself than you. "I don't know why I even bother questioning the antics you'll stoop to anymore."

"Hey!" You acted affronted, putting your hands on your hips. "That jerk had it coming. He made a few off-color remarks that I simply couldn't ignore."

Nanami's gaze sharpened a bit at that. "Remarks aimed at you?"

There was an undercurrent in his tone that sent a little thrill down your spine. You fought back a grin, having successfully piqued the protective edge you so loved provoking.

Waving a dismissive hand, you assured, "Nothing I couldn't handle, trust me. Let's just say that pig will be rethinking his vocabulary from here on out."

The slightest downturn of Nanami's lips signaled his disapproval, but rather than lecture, he simply shook his head. "I shouldn't be surprised you took matters into your own hands, as usual."

"You know how I abhor jerks who can't keep their traps shut," you said breezily, plopping down on his couch like you owned the place and stretching out languidly. You made sure to let your shirt ride up just a bit, offering a teasing glimpse of toned abdomen.

True to form, Nanami's eyes strayed there for the barest flicker before he averted his gaze with an undecipherable grunt. You bit back a grin of triumph.

"Why do I get the feeling you went out of your way to instigate this...black eye instance," he drawled after a moment, rejoining you in the living area. His towel had been swapped for a simple t-shirt and lounge pants that rode dangerously low on his hips. You made no effort to hide your frankly appraising gaze this time.

Stretching your arms up over your head, you played innocent. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play coy." Nanami fixed you with that no-nonsense stare that always made something in the pit of your stomach go warm and liquidy. "You actively court trouble when left to your own devices."

"I simply have zero tolerance for rude, ill-mannered asses who deserve to be taken down a peg." You shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm doing the world a public service, really."

Nanami scoffed at that, but you caught the subtle twitch of his lips in a suppressed smirk. "A public service, she says..."

"Oh, admit it." You shot him a sly look, getting up and closing the distance between you with a provocative sway of your hips. "You love how I never back down from a conflict. How I always dish it back twice as hard as I get it."

Nanami visibly stiffened as you invaded his personal space, though his expression remained studiedly impassive. "And just what," he murmured in a pitched undertone, "is that supposed to imply, exactly?"

You grinned slowly, delighting in the way his gunmetal eyes involuntarily dropped to trace the swell of your lips. "Oh, I think you know perfectly well what I'm implying, Nanami-san..."

Trailing one fingertip up the center of his chest, you relished the way his musculature twitched beneath the whisper-light caress. Felt his shallow inhale as you leaned in until the subtlest shift would bring your bodies flush together.

"You can play dumb all you want," you murmured, purposefully allowing your warm breath to fan across his parted lips. "But we both know you get off on my...tenacious spirit, so to speak."

Nanami's jaw worked wordlessly for a moment, those versatile eyes darkening with unreadable intent. When he spoke again, his deep timbre had taken on a distinctly reverberated edge that danced like static electricity across your nerves.

"You seem to be operating under the misguided impression that I find your hotheaded antics charming in the slightest." One calloused palm rose to splay against your hip, the blistering heat of his skin raising delicious prickles despite the layers between you. "When in fact...I find them unbecoming. Childish, even."

You couldn't repress your full-body shiver at the subtle increase of pressure from his fingertips digging into your waistline. Nanami's mouth curved into a sharp smile at your reaction, gaze locked with searing intensity.

"Then again, perhaps a little...discipline might go a long ways towards reforming your more reckless habits." He punctuated the oblique suggestion by slowly trailing his other palm up the slender column of your neck until he cradled your jaw with just a hint of constriction.

Fire lanced through your veins at the titillating implication and naked challenge burning in Nanami's stare. You allowed your lashes to dip in a pointed sweep as a flush crept across your cheekbones.

"Is that...Is that a promise, Nanami-san?" You all but purred, leaning further into the scorching brand of his coaxing grip. "Because you know how I do love a good...disciplinary session..."

An imperceptible muscle ticked high on his cheekbone. Then Nanami gently but firmly extracted himself from your tangled orbit, spinning away to put critical distance between you. His next words emerged pitched low enough to resonant straight through your solar plexus.

"As tempting as that proposal is, you and I both know it's a dangerous road to travel." A weighty pause as you stared, rooted and ragingly at the rigid line of his back. "Play with fire often enough and someone inevitably gets burned, little wildflower."

He threw the husky endearment your way over one corded shoulder before slipping towards the kitchen, leaving you flushed and thunderously aroused and more than a little confused by his abrupt dismissal.

Something indecipherable and molten seeped beneath Nanami's parting words, igniting embers you couldn't allow yourself to fully comprehend lest they catch and blaze into wildfire between you. You were left with the unsettling feeling that behind the constant push-and-pull provocations you'd grown accustomed to...a deeper truth was steadily taking defiant root.

The next time you barged into Nanami's apartment unannounced, it was to find him fresh from the shower once again. He emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam with a towel slung precariously low on his hips, damp hair in artful disarray.

You froze mid-stride, rapidly becoming an expert at not overtly ogling despite the instinctive flare of heat suffusing your gaze. Nanami merely arched one brow at your abrupt halt, calm as a lake at dawn.

"Boundaries, wildflower," was his only chiding as he brushed past you towards the bedroom to dress. "Do learn them."

You snapped your jaw shut, determined not to be so easily flustered into silence. Turning, you trailed after him with purposefully loud footfalls. "You say that, and yet it's clear you have no problem prancing about with your delicious body on display, sensei."

The slightest falter in Nanami's stride was the only indication he registered your boldly provocative tone. Rallying, you closed the distance until you could reach out and brazenly trail fingertips along the rigid planes of his back.

"One might even think," you practically purred, "that you leave so little to the imagination on purpose. As a...delectable temptation."

Nanami stilled then, a detectable frisson of awareness tightening his shoulders. His next exhale emerged slightly more uneven. "Is that so?"

You hummed a wordless affirmative, thoroughly enjoying the way he was so clearly struggling to maintain that vaunted stoicism. "Oh, absolutely. Which begs the question...who exactly is the tease here, sensei?"

When Nanami turned at last, his expression was severe enough to stoke fresh heat through your veins. In two large strides he was looming into your personal space, turbulent eyes searching your expression.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, wildflower," he murmured in that raspy timbre that never failed to liquify your insides. "One I'm not certain you have the...discipline to withstand."

You tilted your head, aiming for an air of nonchalance despite the wild thrumming of your pulse. "And if I said that was exactly the sort of game I wanted us to play?"

Something flickered behind Nanami's gaze then - a blazing mix of hunger, yearning, cherished restraint. His hand lifted as though of its own volition to cup the line of your jaw, thumb rasping along the swell of your lower lip. You shuddered at the overwhelming intimacy of the contact.

"Then I'd advise extreme caution, little wildflower," Nanami husked, robbing you of breath. "Because this particular game has very...severe consequences if indulged for overlong."

You swayed towards him like a flower seeking the sun's warmth. "Is that a promise...or a threat, sensei?"

Nanami's lashes swept downward briefly, shielding his expression. Then his fingers contracted in a searing grip, tilting your face upwards once more to impale you with a look more heated than a newborn star going supernova.

"From me?" His voice emerged little more than a graveled rasp edged with dark sin. "Always...both."

Then he released you, spinning away with an abruptness that nearly sent you staggering in its wake. You blinked dazedly for several moments before finding your voice.

"You can't keep running from this, you know," you called after Nanami's retreating back, striving for some semblance of composure. "Whatever...this is."

He paused in the threshold leading out as if weighted down by your quiet accusation. For an endless beat, you didn't think he'd respond. Then finally his head inclined a fraction.

"No..." The deep timbre seemed to come from someplace infinite and cavernous within him. "But neither can you keep recklessly goading the beast, wildflower. Not unless you're prepared for when it inevitably turns...and gives everything you're baiting it to consume."

The unspoken warning hung taut and thrumming between you like a live wire as Nanami exited without a backward glance. As always, you were left scorched yet painfully unfulfilled by one more near miss on the razor's edge of capitulation. Left to wonder just how many more times you could bait the line between you before one of you finally tumbled over into the abyss.

It was one of those unseasonably warm nights when not even the whirring air conditioning unit could quite displace the thick, languid humidity that seemed to cling to every surface. You shifted restlessly on Nanami's couch, skin feeling feverish and tightly confined by your lightweight loungewear.

"Are you always this fidgety?" Nanami's dry remark dragged your gaze over to where he sat in the nearby armchair, seemingly unbothered by the stifling mugginess. Unlike you, he looked perfectly at ease in a thin sleeveless top and loose pants.

You tried not to stare too overtly at the bared expanse of toned arms and chest on display, but it was difficult not to be transfixed. Nanami radiated an almost elemental sort of virility in the low lighting that made your mouth water.

Forcing your attention upwards with arduous effort, you shot him a flat look. "Easy for you to say, all cool and composed over there."

One dark brow inched upwards at your unsubtle admiration and subsequent grumbling. "Are you quite alright, wildflower? You seem..."

"Don't start with me," you warned, unable to disguise the breathless lilt your voice had taken on. You tugged at the neckline of your shirt, trying fruitlessly to coax in a cross breeze. "It's stifling as hell in here."

Nanami's gaze grew distinctly hooded at the motion, tracking the bead of sweat that trailed down the hollow of your throat. "Is that so?"

You fought back a squirm at the molten weight of his stare roving your heated skin. "Yes, so unless you've got a better way to cool me off..."

The suggestive words hung heavily between you. An inviting sort of hush seemed to settle over the room as the air conditioning unit puttered to a halt in the corner. A few protracted beats of silence ticked by, the only sounds your mingled breaths.

Then Nanami unfolded himself from his chair with that unhurried, predatory grace you'd come to admire. You were already flushed warm from the smothering atmosphere, but fresh heat prickled outwards across your exposed curves at his approach.

Rather than stop or re-establish the usual measurable distance between you, Nanami continued stalking forth until his shins brushed the sofa. Your breath came a little quicker as he loomed over you.

"There are," he said at last, deep tone thrumming like a resonant bassline through your nerve endings, "other ways to find relief from the swelter."

The sheltering weight of his body blocked out most of the low light, casting you in austere shadow. As if moving in slow dream sequence, Nanami braced one knee beside your hip on the couch and extended a calloused palm to toy with the top button of your shirt.

You swallowed audibly, utterly pinned beneath his smoldering scrutiny as one by one, those deft fingers slipped each fastening free. The thin material slowly parted to expose damp skin and bra-covered breasts slicked with perspiration. Nanami's heavy exhalation stirred wisps of hair at your flushed nape.

"Allow me..." he murmured, so softly the words seemed to skim your parted lips.

Then one broad palm seared a scorching trail up your abdomen and over your ribs, leaving sizzling imprints in its wake. You arched helplessly into the shocking contact before Nanami smoothed back down again in an unbearably light caress. Over and over until you were trembling and dizzy, nerves going haywire beneath his carnal ministrations.

When Nanami eventually drifted to a stop with his knuckles just grazing your lower belly, you were panting harshly. He regarded you through lowered lashes with an indecipherable gleam in his turbulent eyes.

"Better?" Nanami rasped at last.

You could only shakily incline your head, not trusting your voice. He hummed vague acknowledgment, then leaned in until you could taste the bittersweet tang of his skin on the hot exhale that gusted across your slick throat.

"Good..." Nanami's voice plunged to a bass register that seemed to resonate within your very bones. "Because we're just...getting...started..."

Those last words emerged with searing emphasis alongside the smoldering graze of his teeth against your hammering pulse point. You didn't even have time to process the full-body convulsion that lashed through your every atom.

With one final inscrutable look, Nanami rose and turned on his heel for the refuge of his bedroom without further comment. Leaving you scorched and reeling and somehow aching more intensely than before in the aftermath of his singularly incendiary attentions.

The charged encounters seemed to escalate after that pivotal night of Nanami doling out his own scorching brand of torturous relief. As if a dam had fractured, allowing those deeper undercurrents to steadily bleed through in increasingly overt ways.

You started noticing the little unconscious habits – like how Nanami would trap you with that darkly penetrating stare and simply hold your gaze hostage for protracted beats. Saying nothing, but letting the weighty lasciviousness of his attention prickle satisfying frissons across your nerves.

Or the way his palms seemed to migrate towards any naked slice of your skin when you occupied the same space. Calloused fingertips feathering delirious patterns along your arms, the dip of your spine, the swell of your ankle as if staking proprietary claim. Never overt enough to blatantly cross lines, but absolutely calculated to leave you buzzing on that razor's edge of sweet agony.

In the training rooms, the subtle touches evolved into something more...purposeful. Nanami's solid frame would bracket you from behind under the guise of adjusting your stance or redirecting a strike. His pelvis would grind lightly but meaningfully against your backside as anvil-calloused palms mapped the feminine curves of your body in sweeping, indolent arcs.

You'd shudder overtly at the branded heat of Nanami's chest sealing against your back, ogni sculpted ridge and hollow etched in searing bas-relief. The rasp of his words would gust hotly against the nape of your neck, each consonant seeming to reverberate straight through to your very core in delicious impact tremors.

"Loosen your grip, wildflower..." He'd murmur with quiet authority, those skilled fingertips adjusting your wrist ever-so-slightly. "Don't let the tension compromise your form."

You always fought not to whimper at the flickering caresses skating so perilously close to your breasts and inner thighs. But Nanami never missed the tremors that betrayed your responses, nostrils flaring as if he could physically sense the spiking arousal suffusing your scent.

Sometimes you wondered if he did it on purpose - stoking those banked embers until your entire universe contracted down to the searing brand of his touch claiming you from all sides. Other times you knew with dizzying certainty Nanami was simply struggling not to fully unravel like you, forcing every iota of discipline not to tumble over that event horizon together.

Those unguarded moments always began the same - with you mindlessly palming a paperweight or odd trinket on his desk while waiting for Nanami to finish reviewing some bureaucratic report. Focusing so intently on anything besides how deliciously snug his shirt clung to those carved planes of musculature that you missed Nanami straightening from his task.

Suddenly the heavy, grounding warmth of Nanami's broad palm would engulf yours, fingers curling to halt the idle motions. You'd suck in a sharp inhale at the overwhelming physicality and subtle dominance of the hold even as Nanami crowded in from behind. Close enough that the scorching furnace of his chest brushed your back with each cycle of breath.

You knew better than to so much as shift beneath that vise-like anchor. Instead, you'd go utterly still and pliant, waiting with thundering heart for whatever darkly intimate encounter Nanami seemed intent on precipitating.

Sure enough, his unoccupied hand would eventually alight upon some stretch of naked skin. The sensitive inner crease of your elbow, perhaps, or dust featherlight across your collarbone. You'd tremble violently despite willing every synapse not to react, feeling the blistering heat of Nanami's stare tracking each micro-response.

"Keep still," he'd husk in that decadent timbre that somehow carried the laconic menace of a growl.

Then his palm would slowly, inexorably glide upwards in a searing map – following each tendon and hollow with merciless precision. Tracing the fragile wrist, meandering higher along your forearm in unhurried exploration until you writhed beneath the exquisite torture.

Only for Nanami to just as abruptly release and pivot away before shattering either of your rapidly thinning veneers of control. Leaving you frayed but unfulfilled, forced to clutch slick fists against clenching thighs while surreptitiously willing your body back from that precipice.

Each time, he'd turn just before exiting and pin you with a look so molten, so fraught with escalating promise, that you felt branded straight through to your very atoms. A look that clearly said one of these encounters would finally crest into irrevocable capitulation...

It was only a matter of whittling down whose restraints unraveled first.

The cursed spirit had been more formidable than anticipated, ripping through the crumbling ruins and scattering debris like a vengeful tornado. You'd gotten separated from Nanami amid the chaos, flushed out into a small courtyard overrun with thick vegetation.

The explosive force of the cursed spirit detonating the ground sent you tumbling head over heels. Debris pelted you from all sides as the world dissolved into a disorientating vortex of darkness and noise.

Eventually, you fetched up hard against uneven surfaces - the wind forcibly expelled from your lungs. Dazed, you blinked against the ringing in your ears and tried to get your bearings.

That's when you realized the precarious positioning you'd ended up in. Your upper body was sprawled face down on one side of a deep crevasse in the courtyard's surface. But your hips and legs were wedged firmly on the opposite side of the narrow gap, splayed obscenely with your backside lewdly displayed.

You wiggled experimentally, but whatever rubble and stonework had you pinned refused to budge an inch. The sound of approaching footsteps filtering through the dust had you stilling instantly, stomach swooping with anxious trepidation.

"Wildflower?" Nanami's authoritative baritone cut through the settling debris like a blade as his tall silhouette emerged from the gloom. "Are you--"

His words stuttered off in a momentary pause as he clearly registered the revealing way you were positioned. You flushed hotly, not needing to look back over your shoulder to feel the weight of his piercing assessment raking across your trapped body.

A protracted beat of silence stretched between you, thick enough to almost taste. Then Nanami continued his unhurried advance until you could sense the imposing bulk of his frame looming squarely behind you.

You hunched instinctively, adrenaline spiking despite yourself as his next words emerged amid the susurrant whisper of him crouching down directly at your exposed backside.

"My, my..." There was a slumberous sort of appreciation threaded through his deep timbre that raised prickles across your sensitized nerves. "You certainly have an uncanny penchant for ending up in the most...precarious situations, little wildflower."

The lightest feather-brush of his fingertips traced up the sensitive tendons of your inner ankle in blatant suggestion - a measured, purposeful caress that had you sucking in a sharp inhale. Nanami didn't miss your microreaction if his low, rumbling chuckle was any indication.

"One might start to think you choreograph such incidents." Another few idle sweeps higher along your calf raised electrifying contrails in their wake. "Practically begging for...intensive correction through whatever intimate disciplinary methods I deem suitable."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the delirious spiral of heat those subtly lascivious implications stoked despite yourself. Still, you couldn't quite repress the full-bodied shiver as his calloused palms skated up your outer thighs in unerringly light, scorching trails.

Inch by agonizing inch, Nanami's hands roamed higher in unhurried exploration. Mapping every twitch and tremor you unsuccessfully tried to stifle as his fingertips blazed scorching paths along the innermost apex of your splayed thighs.

"So eager..." His approving rumble seemed to resonate straight through your very marrow. "Even in this unorthodox setting, your form practically begs for correction, wildflower."

You squeezed your eyes shut against the kaleidoscope of frissons detonating everywhere his callused palms grazed. Willing your body not to react so transparently to Nanami's purposefully provocative ministrations. The exquisite torture of having him so brazenly dominate your personal space in such an intimate manner while remaining infuriatingly composed.

"P-Perhaps if my mentor didn't insist on such...private discipline, I wouldn't find myself in these situations," you managed at last, voice emerging more breathless than intended.

Nanami tsked softly in clear rebuke, the sound vibrating against your over-sensitized nerves. "Now, now...we both know that's a blatant lie."

You shuddered freely as one palm smoothed up your thigh in a lingering, purposefully possessive glide. Higher and higher until he cradled the plush of your ass, fingertips searing into the flesh.

You squirmed ineffectually against the ruthless drag of Nanami's deliberate inspection, each measured graze leaving towering infernos in its wake. Yet somehow that only seemed to spur him on, fanning the sweet agony sizzling through your nerves hotter still.

"I can't decide," he husked at last, devouring you in a smolder that all but stripped you naked, "whether I should punish you first for such carelessness...or simply take advantage of having you so sweetly trapped for me."

Your lips parted on a tremulous sound you couldn't quite stifle as Nanami's palm finally curved around your outer thigh in a scorching, proprietary brand. He squeezed once in clear emphasis before dragging his nails up the sensitive interior in a whisper-light threat that detonated your senses into white heat.

"Then again, perhaps I'll simply keep you here a while longer," he growled with barely restrained wildfire bleeding through the rasped words. "As tempting as this tantalizing tableau is, I do so enjoy watching you writhe for me, little wildflower..."

Despite the sodden ache building with each lascivious caress and purring avowment, you managed to rally one last defiant spark behind a hooded stare. "Is that...so?"

Nanami's flinty eyes glittered like sun-struck obsidian as he bent closer still, allowing the solid ridge of his arousal to nestle against the juncture of your thighs.

"Oh yes..." he breathed, the words gusting across your damp, parted lips. "But allow me to give you a little...preview to ponder, hmm?"

Before you could react, his other palm cupped your opposite ass cheek in a stinging grip and gave a deliberate, carnal grind. The searing press of his clothed length against your swollen slit through the flimsy barriers between you left you gasping.

"Consider this a...taste," he rumbled darkly, "of what's to come should I decide to keep you here and thoroughly ruin you."

He punctuated the decadent threat with a second slow thrust, ensuring the blistering length of his cock grazed against your engorged clit in a way that made your toes curl. Then he withdrew, leaving you throbbing and panting and desperate for more.

Nanami straightened, a darkly appreciative sound reverberating deep within his broad chest. You shivered uncontrollably beneath his proprietary gaze raking across your prone, splayed body.

"Such a good little wildflower," he husked, eyes hooded with blatant carnality. "Just imagine if someone else were to wander across you in such a helpless state..."

He trailed off as his stare dipped meaningfully to where your slick arousal glistened along the seam of your pussy, fully visible in the obscene angle of your body. A low, feral rumble sounded in his chest before he spoke once more in a sin-dark timbre.

"How delicious it would be to have you like this..." A single finger traced the seam of your soaked panties in a searing, feather-light caress that made you jolt. "So helpless, so needy...so ready to be filled and utterly wrecked."

You sucked in a sharp breath at the erotic picture he painted with the suggestive drag of his fingertip against your drenched folds. Imagining being found by someone less discerning and honorable than Nanami – some other male who might not resist the temptation to sample the pretty little morsel on offer.

Nanami's eyes narrowed slightly as if sensing the direction your thoughts had strayed. A soft, rumbling hum issued from his broad chest as his calloused touch migrated higher, skimming the curve of your ass before delving lower.

"Imagine some stranger coming upon you in such a vulnerable state," he mused aloud, voice pitched even deeper and rougher with restrained desire. "How they would take advantage of having you so utterly at their mercy."

Nanami's thumb pressed in a slow, searing circle against your pulsing clit through the thin material, dragging a strangled moan from your chest. "How they would strip away these pesky coverings..."

He emphasized the lurid suggestion by sliding the barrier aside and stroking directly against your slick flesh, making you jolt at the scalding contact.

"And how they would bury themselves within your sweet, yielding pussy." He punctuated the final, filthy words by plunging two thick fingers deep inside.

You didn't stand a chance. Not with his sinfully skilled digits pumping at just the right angle, the lewd, wet sounds filling the space between you. Not when he'd already brought you so close to the edge with his earlier teasing.

You came explosively, the world contracting into a single pinpoint of blissful sensation. Distantly, you were aware of Nanami's guttural exclamation, his palm gripping your hip to anchor you steady as he wrung every ounce of pleasure from your body.

You were barely coming down from the mind-blowing high when his hand withdrew, replaced a moment later by the blunt tip of his cock. The scorching contact sent fresh waves of need lashing through your veins, reawakening the feverish ache in the space of a single heartbeat.

Nanami groaned deep in his chest at the molten contact, his pelvis grinding lightly against your backside. "God, wildflower, you're so...fucking wet. I could take you just like this. Would you let me? Or would you beg for me to stop? Not that you'd be able to do much beyond writhe in place and take it."

You whimpered helplessly, a fresh gush of arousal dampening your inner thighs at the depraved fantasy he painted.

Your core clenching hungrily at the thought of him sliding home with one relentless thrust, filling you to the hilt and pounding away with wild abandon.

"Tell me, wildflower," Nanami all but growled, hips jerking in an involuntary thrust that had the tip of his cock notching against your weeping entrance. "Would you beg for mercy...or would you spread those legs and take every inch I gave you?"

A desperate keening noise escaped as you arched into him, trying futilely to drive him deeper. Your body had already capitulated to the carnal temptation. But it wasn't enough, not when Nanami remained stubbornly immobile.

"Tell me," he ordered with quiet authority, calloused palms squeezing the swell of your ass hard enough to sting.

"Yes!" The word erupted from your throat with the force of a dam finally breaking. "Yes, I'd spread my legs and beg for you to fuck me. Please, Kento..."

The effect of his name spilling from your lips was instantaneous. Nanami's hips jerked forward, sheathing himself to the hilt within your clenching heat. A rough, primal noise was torn from his chest as he bottomed out, his entire frame trembling from the effort of remaining motionless.

Then his hands gripped the swell of your hips hard enough to bruise and began a ruthlessly punishing rhythm, pistoning into your sopping cunt with single-minded purpose. It was exactly as you'd fantasized, only better. Because you could feel the tension thrumming through every sculpted ridge and hollow of his powerful body, the coiled violence barely restrained.

Nanami was taking his pleasure just as much as yours, his every harsh, panting breath seeming to reverberate through you. As if your very bodies had melded, become one singular entity of pure, molten desire.

It was the most intensely, blissfully satisfying feeling you'd ever experienced, knowing he'd finally unraveled. Finally lost control and succumbed to the raw, animalistic lust he'd been harboring.

And it was all for you.

The thought pushed you higher and higher still until the only thing keeping you tethered was the brutal rhythm of his pelvis slamming against your upturned backside. It was all too much, and not enough, and not nearly enough.

You writhed uncontrollably, pinned on the blade's edge of pleasure as Nanami's fingers dug punishing grooves into your skin. The wet, vulgar slap of his cock pistoning into you drowned out the needy little noises tumbling from your lips.

You could tell Nanami was rapidly approaching his peak by the ragged hitch of his breathing, the increasingly jerky, frantic thrusts of his hips. And yet, even now, he was clearly striving to ensure you came first.

One of his broad palms shifted from its bruising grip on your hip, his calloused fingers finding the swollen nub of your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure. You cried out sharply, vision whiting out at the edges as he stroked you with the perfect mix of friction and gentleness.

"Let go, wildflower," he growled, each harsh syllable vibrating against your overstimulated nerve endings. "Cum for me..."

Then he gave a particularly vicious thrust, his cock bottoming out in your quivering channel. The sudden pressure and fullness combined with the wicked, knowing caress of his fingertips shattered what was left of your fraying restraint.

You came apart at the seams, crying out his name as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure crashed through you. Nanami fucked you through it, drawing out the exquisite sensations for several long moments until your body went lax.

Only then did his tempo shift, growing erratic and choppy. His hips stuttered against your ass once, twice, three times, before he buried himself balls-deep with a ragged groan. The thick heat of his release filled you, leaving you dazed and trembling from the sheer intensity of the encounter.

As you slowly came back to awareness, you registered that Nanami had sagged against you, his large frame still shuddering through the final ripples of release. With a concerted effort, you wriggled against the loosened debris.

That was all the signal he needed. In a seamless, predatory movement, Nanami surged upright. With one hand firmly anchored around your hip and the other braced against the rubble trapping you, he easily lifted your weight to free you.

Then he was tugging you upwards into his arms and claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, devouring and dominant. A promise of all the ways he was going to ruin you next.

You shuddered in his arms, eagerly parting your lips beneath the demanding invasion. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as his scent and taste overwhelmed you.

"God, I want you," Nanami rasped against your mouth, sounding almost tortured. "Need to be inside you, wildflower. Feel that perfect little cunt squeezing me again."

"Yes," you whimpered, already achingly empty after only a brief respite. "I need you, Kento. Need to feel you..."

"Mine," he all but snarled, the words more beast than man.

In the next breath, Nanami had you pressed against a nearby wall, the rough stone rasping against your exposed curves. He lifted your legs around his hips, his thick cock notching against your swollen entrance.

His mouth crashed down upon yours once more in a savage, bruising kiss as he began driving into you. The thick, unbridled length of his arousal stretching you impossibly full, the sensation overwhelming and intoxicating all at once.

Each hard, possessive thrust drove the breath from your lungs. Your fingernails dug into his muscled back, no doubt leaving angry welts in their wake. Nanami groaned into the kiss, the sound resonating deep in his broad chest and sending electric shivers along your spine.

His hands gripped your ass tight enough to bruise, guiding your hips to meet his punishing rhythm. You couldn't help the breathy gasps that escaped, each exhale seeming to mingle with his ragged breaths.

Your entire world had contracted down to the molten points of connection between your bodies. The feel of his calloused palms searing your bare skin, the heady scent of him enveloping you, the wet, decadent sounds filling the air.

Nanami's forehead dropped to yours, his molten gaze piercing through the lust-haze fogging your senses. "Say it again," he demanded hoarsely, eyes glittering with something raw and fierce. "Say my name."

"Kento," you breathed, the single word seeming to resonate through every nerve ending.

His rhythm grew frenzied, the lewd smack of his hips against your inner thighs echoing throughout the courtyard. You arched into him, fingers fisting desperately in his hair.

"Again," he snarled, nipping at your lower lip. "Tell me whose name you'll be screaming as I fuck you senseless, wildflower."

"Yours, Kento," you gasped, teetering on the edge of another mind-blowing orgasm. "Only yours."

That was all the permission Nanami needed. His thrusts became brutal, the thick length of his cock bottoming out with every punishing stroke. Your entire body quaked, muscles tightening around him.

Then his hand snaked between you, his calloused fingertips finding your swollen clit. That was all it took to send you spiraling over the edge.

You cried out his name, nails raking his broad back as the orgasm ripped through you. Nanami followed shortly after, his teeth sinking into the side of your neck in a savage bite. The sensation sent another wave of blissful tremors shuddering through your system.

You sagged in his arms, utterly boneless as Nanami supported your weight. He was panting heavily, his broad chest pressed against yours as you both came down from the high. You couldn't help the giddy, satisfied smile that curled across your lips.

You tilted your head, meeting his heavy-lidded gaze. "Kento, was that your way of showing me a preview of what's to come?"

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile softening his sharp features. "That depends...did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, immensely," you murmured, leaning in until your lips were a breath away from his. "But I have a feeling I'll enjoy round two even more."

The low, feral sound Nanami made was all the answer you needed.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento x reader smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader

[nymphbroadcast]

Octavinelle x MC! like Alastor

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆The Octavinelle boys with an MC! or Yuu like Alastor.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆ Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹GN! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆

⊹Clarifications: Clearly MC! Alastor is not a murderer/homicide for obvious reasons, nor will his taste for raw meat be specified as such nor will his sadistic tendency shown in his appearances be exaggerated, MC! remains with the characteristics of Alastor's deer (ears, antlers, etc...)

⊹Alastor's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆

• He is an expert manipulator, he is polite and elegant, he believes that the old style is the best, he usually uses ruins of buildings as "his safe place", it is almost impossible for him to stop smiling, he is a fan of the radio and despises modern technology, He can be quite sadistic, he likes to find entertainment in everything, he is good at intimidating others, he gets along better with older people, curiously he gets along well with people of his opposite gender without ulterior motives, he likes classical music especially Jass, He has a habit of appearing out of nowhere, he likes to sing and dance, his way of speaking is quite polite and with old expressions, he likes to see people smile, he is fond of venison, he likes to make cruel and insensitive jokes, He has a strange way of motivating people, he usually takes advantage of "powerful" people to see their behavior and gain their trust, he is unpredictable and illegible, he does not usually swear, he can rarely be sentimental, he dislikes the physical contact that the He does not initiate, he is physically agile and fast and remains calm in dangerous moments, he does not like to be talked too much or asked many questions, he is quite intimidating and terrifying when he wants to, most believe that he does not have close friends due to his mysterious behavior, he is quite confident in his abilities and usually resents being reminded that there will always be someone better than him.

Azul ashengrotto

🐙 Azul feels intimidated although he hides it as best he can, he hasn't seen many people like you, especially because of the smile he has 24/7.

🐙 Upon meeting Azul, he tries to read you to see how dangerous you are for him, clearly he does not get clear results which makes him anxious, it is clear that you would not tell him anything important about you that he could use against you and since there are no records From you in Twisted Wonderland, Azul becomes stressed on cosmic levels.

🐙 (Events of chapter 3) When he finally has a chance to use you for his own benefit, he notices that you are more dangerous than he thought, even with your unreadable smiling expression when signing the contract with him, Azul tries to stay calm because you're the only person who doesn't have it in his hands, EVEN IF YOU LOSE RAMSHAKLE AGAINST HIM YOU DON'T LOOK NERVOUS-

🐙 When you directly get involved with Leona and Savanaclaw he can't help but he's taken aback, your deer characteristics would make him think that you would be roast meat if you get involved with people like them...

🐙 Coming to the final point, your skills as a manipulator (which remind him a bit of himself) and expert strategist show him that he definitely misjudged you... Even if you don't have the magic that the average Twisted Wonderland realizes you do. What makes you so fearsome is your terrifying intelligence...

🐙 Azul admires your confidence, even during his overblot you remained calm and always confident in your abilities to win, even helping the Leech Twins and Leona and Ruggie to get him out of his overblot.

🐙 Azul thought you would be angry with him after everything he did, his eyes reflected a mixture of fear and confusion when after taking him out of his overblot you applauded and with your characteristic smile you congratulated him for ´´A great performance!´´ on your own words.

🐙 After that, Azul realizes that you are not as bad as he thought, rather a little weird in the way you are, however he cannot help but be startled when you appear out of nowhere and the first thing he hears is your voice with that effect of old radio that gives him chills.

🐙 When he asks you why you keep visiting them and talking as if nothing had happened, he doesn't know whether to feel offended or flattered to hear you call him and the Leech Twins a good entertainment that you never had the pleasure of seeing before.

🐙 One day you arrive out of nowhere at the Mostro Lounge VIP room and tell him that you've been feelingexceptionally great since you started broadcasting on ´´The NRC Radio Show´´... Azul never knew that existed, then you clarify that indeed, it was your idea and that the Headmage decided to accept because you were giving popularity to the NRC... Azul indeed saw it coming.

🐙 Azul does not admit it but he is happy when you offer to accompany him to his TOTALLY legal fools with aggressive or problematic clients, you instill terror and imposingness standing in a corner of the room attentive to any aggressive movement of the client towards Azul or even the Leech Twins, It seems incredible to him how your antlers grow when you use your power and your eyes change to radio dials.

🐙 DEER EARS DEER EARS DEER EARS... YOU HAVE DEER EARS!!!!!!

🐙 Azul is completely in love with your fluffy deer ears! He thinks they look so cute when you move them that he wants to touch and caress them forever! Fortunately he knows that you don't really like physical contact and stops his impulses.

🐙 Azul loves how polite and elegant you are, although he would like you to be more versatile in terms of modesty, since he once asked you to do a commercial for the Mostro Louge and you did it!…. on radio...

🐙 He is careful not to anger you or underestimate you, note that it is something you hate, you once sent a guy flying who ripped your vest trying to ''hurt you''... needless to say, Azul was petrified... ( the Leech Twins cheered you on in the background)

🐙 You have a peculiar way of lifting Azul's spirits, practically calling him a coward and weak, inciting his anger and resentment only to later realize that in one way or another you helped him achieve what he wanted.

🐙 Maybe his liking for you is mixed with his insecurities, he never sees you nervous, you are confident, ambitious, you inspire confidence but also respect... Something that he lacks, you are what completes him in several ways and that is what He loves you.

Jade Leech

🍄 Jade...Jade...Jade...JADE IS YOUR NUMBER 1 FAN.

🍄 You're smart, strong, cunning, confident, mysterious... Practically perfect in Jade's eyes

🍄 Jade notices that you actually have a resemblance to him, you are more calculating and less spontaneous, you are usually calm but you don't hesitate if you need to become wild and the best... You always have a big smile on your face!... yours is scary much more and it's literally 24/7 in your face... But he don't care!

🍄 It's obvious that you even surpass him in many aspects, power, connections and the ease of talking to people without them running away when they see you... almost... But! You guys are just like weirdos! Who knew Jade would watch a ''deer eat another deer''... FOR BREAKFAST.

🍄 If you agree with Jade on something, it is the advantages of showing a smile. He notes that you almost always show it to gain someone's trust, and clearly you are much less expressive about removing your smile from your face compared to him.

🍄 Jade is fascinated by your qualities, he is fascinated to see how you can differentiate him from his own brother and how you can face them both in combat... both magic and bare knuckle, he loves your self-confidence and he loves trying to make you nervous, even though he never succeeds he loves trying to do it.

🍄 DEER EARS DEER EARS DEER EARS... YOU HAVE DEER EARS!!!!! X2

🍄 Unlike Azul, Jade doesn't stop wanting to touch your fluffy deer ears, that may or may not have started a somewhat curious fight... because while you were trying to cut off Jade's hands he seemed to barely resist the urge to kiss you.

🍄 Some of the things that Jade likes about you is your obvious disdain for modern technology, he is curious about why this is and usually asks you some indirect questions about it but you always answer things like 'My thing is the radio.' ' or ''It doesn't matter.''

🍄 Being someone used to Floyd's sudden hugs, it is obvious that he is used to physical contact in general and always has an amused smile on his face when he sees your awkward smile full of disgust and killing towards someone who touched you without your permission.

🍄 He will probably be either fascinated or shocked to see you turn into a real demon... Your legs grow, your eyes are red radio dials and even your body stretches! And not to mention the rest of the details like the sewn corners of your mouth...

🍄 The first time he sees you make a deal with someone from NRC he can say that he found someone else to follow along with his brother the almost diabolical way in which you persuade the student and convince him that you are an ally and that making a dealing with you will not cost them much, it almost makes him propose to you, not only do you love entertainment at the expense of others, but you are also a kind of "attractor" to interesting situations and people!... and we know that the Leech Twins can be really sadistic....

🍄 Jade finds some things in you similar to Azul, but it is very clear that you are much more mature, patient, manipulative and sadistic than Azul.

🍄 He's happy to see that you follow Azul as much as you can, that means he can see you more often! He clearly takes as a compliment the fact that you consider Azul, him and Floyd ''entertainment''?... well that doesn't matter! You are a very interesting new friend and he loves being with you.

🍄 You are a much more superior version of Azul, disguising yourself with your adorable deer ears and charisma like a prey and so no one notices that you have teeth as sharp as a shark's, Jade loves that because unlike him and his brother have an appearance that intimidates and produces chills and they do not always give "friendly vibes", however, regardless of appearance, you always manage to look harmless in front of everyone, even in front of guys like the Headmage or Leona, who take you for a fool and harmless... Jade would pay anything to see how they would react if they saw your true face.

🍄 He doesn't dislike your old style, just like him, you are elegant and formal almost all the time and he likes that, you are not as obtrusive as his brother so he can talk to you about things of interest to both of you without your mood changing one second to another.

🍄 Your supernatural abilities end up making Jade fall in love, it's not magic as such... at least not the common kind, it has a resemblance to Sam's voodoo, right?... maybe a combination of dark magic, voodoo and something else? maybe... something diabolical?... Jade doesn't know, but he loves not knowing.

🍄 Although you may not share his love for mushrooms, Jade appreciates that you don't see him as a weirdo, in fact sometimes you accompany him to his terrarium and while he plants and waters his mushrooms you can be having a coffee in your... adorable deer mug... or talking non-stop about how well your broadcast of ''The NRC Radio Show'' went today.

🍄 He definitely declares himself a fan of your musical talent, even if your songs are cheesy or seem without specific meaning, Jade can always notice some hidden detail that you hide in them, he notices that you almost always sing with the purpose of making someone lower their guard with you.

🍄 While Jade loves that side of you, he's also in love with your silly moments, like when your little ears move and he almost wants to bite them or the way you zone out and blink like an adorable little frog, he might Count the times you've refused to talk just because you lost your microphone stick or Floyd hid it but he would always laugh at how shy and irritated you looked trying to stay quiet.

🍄 Although Jade does not usually appear discouraged, he knows that you notice even the slightest change in him and his attitude, so even if it is in a strange way, he always appreciates that you motivate him or even offer him a deal to do something for him.

🍄 Jade wants to know what you think... what you feel... your motivations... everything about you, but he never figures it out and that also makes his more and more interested in you, he will stay by your side as long as you want. to observe you and take care of you even if you don't need it because with your curious way of being you managed to catch this Leech.

Floyd Leech

🏀 Floyd loves you, just as he may find Azul interesting and talented, he finds you as his ideal person.

🏀 Whenever he can, Floyd tries to hug you, you almost always end up leaving him and being hugged by the tall eel with an awkward smile on your face, but it must be said that there is always a chase and Floyd always has fun with it.

🏀 Floyd loves to provoke you, he finds it curious how someone so ''nice'' and to a certain extent ''attractive'' to others can become a real bloodthirsty demon, he loves it.

🏀 Floyd also has a similar opinion about you and Azul, but he really likes to tell everyone that you are 10 times better than Azul, especially when you are not afraid to show yourself as the monster you authentically are.

🏀 Floyd loves to follow you almost everywhere because he always tries to look for you at a time when you are not smiling, unfortunately for him he has not succeeded, even when you sleep you are smiling!

🏀 Like Jade, Floyd is quick to realize your manipulative skills, the times you sing it is to give someone confidence in you and he does not deny that he loves it, because you have hidden intentions and let's remember that he is not the biggest fan of good feelings or the songs of the nerdy little princes of Royal Sword Academy.

🏀 It should be noted that the times you have ''lost'' your microphone have been because of Floyd, don't blame him! He's just curious about what your voice will sound like without that radio effect!

🏀 Although Floyd may see Azul entertained for different reasons, you are the one who sees them entertained, you voluntarily approached the Leech and Azul without any fear fully trusting your abilities and you won, you do things to get things in return whether favors or... souls?... you're not looking for anyone to hurt you like Azul, you're looking to show how scary you can be and that you should never be underestimated so don't be surprised when Floyd (and Jade) proposes to you.

🏀 DEER EARS DEER EARS DEER EARS... YOU HAVE DEER EARS!!!!! X3

🏀 Like his twin, Floyd can't wait to touch your ears, they are so soft and tender that he can't resist and bites them... I think it goes without saying that you made his body go through a campus wall ...Floyd says it was worth it and he has no regrets.

🏀 I have to say that Floyd is a lover of gossip, especially if it's something he can use for his ''business'' with Azul and Jade, so he loves it when you come to the Mostro Lounge VIP room with your characteristic cup of tea or coffee announcing that you have new information for them... obviously you always ask for something in return.

🏀 Definitely Floyd gives you the nickname ''Dolphin-chan'', this is because everything in you, be it your face to the public, supposed personality, tastes or apparent intentions, cover up all the atrocities you can do, how you are capable of intimidating even others your ''superiors'' for the fact that you are totally insensitive and are not afraid of betraying whoever is necessary for your objective.

🏀 Floyd has a lot of sudden mood swings, of course you're always there to make him feel worse and then indirectly comfort him, which is always unexpected, but it works.

🏀 Speaking of your radio show, Floyd only listens to it when you talk about controversies or when you give opinions about RSA, in fact Floyd loves the naturalness with which you make sarcastic or cynical comments as if it were nothing.

🏀 In the end you can say that you won the affection of Floyd, Jade and Azul even with your eccentricities and customs... curious... you can say that you are not going to betray them... obviously just to ''return the favor''. .. sure, keep fooling you stubborn deer.

Nymph's Note:

I'm going to say that I don't know how to feel about this job... In my country there is an outbreak of Dengue and I have been dying in my bed 💀... fortunately I have improved, however before I had planned to publish heartslabyul x MC first! Like Rosie... but because there are five characters and too many I decided to do this one first... I also think my love for the Octavinelle Boys and Alastor's curiosities shows:³

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Octavinelle Dorm xMC! Like Alastor Done! ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆

Next...???

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #octavinelle #hazbinhotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #disney twisted wonderland #octavinelle x reader #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #jade x reader #floyd x reader #azul x reader #azul x mc #jade x mc #floyd x mc

[marleyybluu]

Boys

dad!Oscar x mom!reader

Sum: Oscar's not a fan of his daughter going on a date.

WC: 928

Warnings: old draft not proofread.

this was not what I originally wanted to post but this was in my drafts so I'm letting it go out into the Tumblr world.

"Ay! Papaaa! It's not a big deal!"  The teenage girl dramatically raised her voice throwing an outfit on her bed, she suddenly hated her closet. Her father's arms crossed over his chest, an unhappy look on his face as he stood in the door frame. "Who is this guy? Why have you never told me about him? Where is he taking you?"

You chuckled rolling your eyes at the small argument as you stirred your pot of food, your youngest sat in her high chair giggling her head off. "You're laughing? Girl you are next." You joked pointing at her which only made the twelve-month-old laugh even more. A bedroom door slammed and your sixteen-year-old appeared. "Ugh!! What is wrong with your husband!?"

He was dad when everything went her way but was quickly your husband once when things go awry.

You shrugged. "You know how he is, girl, but I mean you could have said something to him."

 She let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped herself down around the kitchen table. Your daughter had let it be known to you and you only that she had a crush on a boy named Nico at school, you'd known of  Nico, met him a few times and seemed nice. Then one day your girl comes home squealing with joy about how the young man liked her back and asked her out on a date. You were happy for her and found it a bit cute that she'd reached this stage in life, a bit cautious of what was to come if the unspeakable happened.

Young heartbreak was a bitch.

Oscar on the other hand was not too fond of the thought of his daughter, his precious angel, going on a date with a boy he's never heard about. The doorbell rang causing your child to jump up, her hands ironing out her light blue dress from any creases, even though there were none. Your brooding husband came sliding down the hall on his way to open the door. You had asked her to turn down the stove so that you could beat him to the door so he wouldn't terrify the young boy.

He caught wind of what you were doing at picked up his pace, you attempted to match him and almost met up with him until he shoved you out of the way, not so hard that you would plummet onto the floor but enough to knock you off balance. 

 Oscar had made it to the entrance his iconic scowl returning to his face as he answered the door. The young man swallowed, fear visibly creeping in when he was met with a more well-toned, and well-tatted man who looked like he was ready to put his foot where the sun doesn't shine. "Who are you?" He nodded. 

 "I'm uh, I'm Nico. I'm... I'm here to pick up Nia... if that's okay." He stammered. 

"Well, it's no-"

"Nico, hi sweetie how are you?" You chimed in pulling on Oscar's arm, your nails digging into his skin causing him to hiss and cuss under his breath. "I'm good Mrs. Diaz. How about yourself?"

"I'm great. I think Nia should be here any second she's just grabbing her jacket."

"Where you guys going?" Oscar asked arching his brow. Nico played with the bottom of his black shirt, the poor kid was sweating. "Just the movies, McDonald's or something after."

You smiled. "That's nice."

Nia cleared her throat as she appeared from behind her mother. "Hi, Nico." She blushed. His smile was all of a sudden brighter. "Hi Nia, you look pretty."

"Thank you. You look pretty too." You softly smiled as you watched Nia's face fall, probably thinking what she said was stupid. 

"Thanks."

The young girl said goodbye to her parents and they watched her get into the passenger seat of his car and drive off. You closed the door turning to Oscar who still had a frown on his face. "You are a piece of work Spooky."

He kissed his teeth, you never called him that unless you were upset. Now, technically, you weren't mad at him you just wanted to sting him a little for almost ruining your daughter's nice evening. "She couldn't wait until she was at least twenty-five to start dating." He groaned. 

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. "You didn't wait. I didn't wait. We were their age once Papi. Es la vida. Let her grow."

He pouted, that was his firstborn, the first to have him completely wrapped around her finger, poor Oscar was at her beck and call no matter what. So, as much as he hated to say it out loud, he was sad that his little girl was growing up right before his eyes. Your husband followed you back into the kitchen, slithering his hands around your waist, holding you close. He hummed at the smell of your hair pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

"If, and I mean if, he breaks her heart. I'll come with you to beat him up." The two of you laughed. "Deal."

Oscar turned his attention over to your youngest who was stuffing her face with a small store-bought cupcake. He smiled at the icing covering half her face, he grabbed a paper towel and wet it before wiping off her face. Her little hands reached for his face and he leaned into her tiny palms, kissing all over her face causing her to explode into a fit of laughs. He took her out of her high chair lifting her in the air. "You gotta wait a little longer than sixteen to date okay mi amor."

You kissed your teeth and threw a kitchen towel at him. "Estúpido."

More Papa Spooky otw bcus i have a problem

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. For the newbies I see y’all I just can’t respond.

Peace and love

Tags: @skyesthebomb @darqchilddaydreamz

#oscar diaz #fem!reader #spooky #spooky x reader #spooky x fem!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #oscar diaz x reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction

[bluegekk0]

whats fpks relationship with herrah? I know canonically, white lady doesnt really feel any ill will towards her as she likes hornet, but how do you think fpk feels towards her? And, since I can't leave grimm out of this, how does he feel about herrah? Maybe he'd feel similarly to wl, since she's basically his daughter now

while typing this out i have another question, which of the dreamers are still alive in your AU, and what are their relationships with fpk, if any? since holly is alive id assume you branched off of the embrace the void ending, and i dont believe you need to kill any dreamers for that end (if I'm wrong, do correct me!), and quirrel in your AU doesn't have monomons mask, so i can only assume ghost at least got to her.

love your stuff, stay well!

it was... not the best, admittedly. granted, they weren't hostile towards each other, i actually think that herrah warmed up to him a little bit, mostly seeing how attached he got to hornet. they certainly had a common reason to bond over, the problem is that fpk was afraid of her. among his species, it's quite common for the larger female to kill and eat the male after mating, so it's coded in his brain to expect that possibility. with wl, it was a bit different - she's more plant-like, and so her behavior is very different to that of a wyrm, or any other carnivorous species, and that comforts his mind a little bit. but with herrah, he sadly couldn't have that assurance, so he was very stressed out about it and expecting the worst

their affair was part of a bargain, so he knew it was his obligation to fullfil his side, but he was terrified throughout all of it. on top of that, since he's gay in the au, he had another reason not to enjoy it very much, though he didn't realize at the time. so all in all, it was a very unpleasant experience, and it greatly impacted his perception of herrah. i do think he have liked for it to be different, after all, she was hornet's mother and i'm sure he would love to have a more pleasant relationship with her, if only for the sake of their daughter. but his fear was too strong and so he rarely visited deepnest aside from seeing hornet (probably for the better since deepnest wasn't particularly fond of him. too bright of a light, for one haha)

as for grimm, you said herrah, but judging by the rest of that sentence i'm assuming you meant hornet, so just in case i'll go over both. i don't think he interacted with herrah much, perhaps he knew her before the whole bargain deal, but nothing more than just being aware of her existence. and with hornet, like you said, she's basically his daughter now and he most certainly sees her as such. definitely more than wl did, but her being emotionally distant is basically a given - she didn't dislike hornet but to call their relationship a mother-daughter one would be an exaggeration. grimm, however, absolutely sees her as his own child. he did that even before him and fpk became a thing - he always liked to imagine himself and fpk raising her together, but since it wasn't meant to be at the time, he instead brought her gifts and entertained her with his powers whenever he visited. these days it's a tad more complicated with hornet's refusal to admit that she sees him as a father figure and her overall bitterness, but his attitude hasn't changed at all. of course, he doesn't pamper her with gifts anymore, but he enjoys spending time with her and bonding over shared interests. their relationship is fun, they have the generally laid back, joking type dynamic of close friends, but it's clear that grimm does thinks of her as his child, meanwhile hornet seems to get upset at that idea, but secretly really cares about him

the dreamers are something i thought about before and i'm considering leaving one of them alive, since i think they're interesting characters and i'd love to explore at least one of them post-ending. as you said, monomon is a goner, and so is herrah, as hornet in the au finds there to be no reason to visit deepnest unless she has to, so it's a natural assumption that her mother is dead. that leaves lurien, and with the city of tears slowly returning to its prime over the course of the au, he would be a pretty good fit for an important figure that watches over its development. but i haven't decided yet. if i choose to keep him dead, then i think it would be a fun idea for his butler to be "promoted" to lurien's previous role, since he was his most trusted bug. we'll see, i like both of those options, and i'll have to see what i decide on

thanks a lot for the ask! i really enjoyed these questions. hope you have a great day/night!

#ask stuff #feral pk au

[darlingandmreames]

Based on a meme I made that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since agsjfkdhs

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When Ariadne had agreed to do the job, she'd assumed it would be Cobb who taught her the basics of dream construction. He was obviously the head of the job and was himself a former architect, so it made sense. Or at least she thought it would have.

She'd spent most of her time so far working with Arthur though. It certainly wasn't a bad trade- Arthur was firm but pleasant, expecting her to put in the work but also willing to stop and explain when she didn't understand something. The fact that his subconscious hadn't tried to kill her yet was an added benefit too.

The best part of working with Arthur, though, was getting to see his interactions with Eames.

She hadn't thought much of their bickering when Eames had first gotten in to Paris. Everybody had a coworker they weren't a fan of, and Arthur and Eames we're clearly that for each other: two men who recognized each other's skill but didn't like each other personally. Except it wasn't entirely antagonistic. There was a bit of fondness in their interactions that took a bit to see, but was impossible to ignore once she'd noticed it. The bickering, the sarcasm, the pet names- it was almost teasing, or maybe even flirting. There was even something almost sweet about it at times, though Ariadne doubted either man would appreciate that observation, and she quickly found herself drawn into the odd dynamic, trying to figure it out.

"Darling?"

Arthur sighed, not looking up from his laptop. "Yes, Eames?"

"I was wondering if you had much information on Fischer's mother's death." Eames leaned against the table, grinning down at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. "If you've gotten there, of course. I know you've got your whole system of doing things, and I'd hate to ask you to get something out of order."

Arthur shot him a glare. "How unbelievably kind of you."

Ariadne tried not to smile as Eames glanced her way, giving her a quick wink. Arthur's banter was usually a reaction but Eames' teasing was very much an intentional and planned thing, and he wasn't above acknowledging it. Ariadne appreciated the brief glimpse into what seemed to be somewhere between an inside joke and a tradition between the two of them- it was a small thing, but it helped her feel a little less like an outsider.

The conversation quickly turned more serious, Arthur filling Eames in on the details he'd gathered about Fischer's mother's death and Eames nodding along, mostly silent save for the occasional question. Despite initial appearances, they really did seem to work well together and while it was less entertaining than the bickering, Ariadne enjoyed being able to see these interactions too. She drifted between watching them and making her way slowly through the article Arthur had given her.

Eames' attention was clearly already back on his work when he straightened back up. He clapped Arthur on the shoulder, turning to head back to his work station with an absentminded hum. "Thanks, babygirl, you're the best."

If there was anything Ariadne had learned about Arthur over the past few weeks, it was that he was a calm, even-keeled man. Very little seemed to get any significant reaction from him, so while the wide eyes and sudden blush might not have been particularly noteworthy on most people, it seemed almost comically exaggerated on Arthur as he looked over at Eames and then quickly back at his laptop. Ariadne could see him trying to hurriedly pull himself back together, but not even his best efforts seemed to be able to keep what was becoming an increasingly pronounced blush from creeping into his cheeks.

His face was still noticeably red when he cleared his throat a couple of seconds later, finally looking back over at Ariadne and gesturing to the article. "Did you, um, did you have any questions?"

"Yeah." Ariadne rested her chin in her hand, fixing Arthur with an amused look. "Why does Eames call you babygirl?"

Arthur looked back at his computer with a frown, even redder than he had been a few seconds earlier. "How about we stop talking for a little while?"

Ariadne grinned, turning back to the article in front of her. It was tempting to tease Arthur about the interaction more, but letting it drop seemed like the best choice, at least for now. She glanced up, looking between Arthur and Eames a few tables away and trying to resist the urge to chuckle- an interesting dynamic indeed.

#inception #arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #dreamhusbands #arthur #eames #local trash goblin writes stuff

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Idle Thoughts on How I Write Dante and Tess.

I felt like fooling around and getting some thoughts I have about them in order, again because I like having some consistency to my writing. There's very particular ways I write the two of them and I often have thoughts that don't always make it into my stories.

Tess is a rather odd character, as far as my creations go. She breaks a lot of "the rules" of the setting, but in a way that helps flesh her and the worldbuilding out, I think. Her presence allows me to cover topics that I might otherwise not really be able to tell within the DMC universe.You can check out the oc: tess templar tag on my blog if you want to find out more about her.

The Nature of Their Relationship

It is complicated and this is not even an exaggeration. They're both difficult, broken people and much as we'd all like that, love doesn't bridge every gap or patch every problem. Navigating a relationship has been a challenge for them, from the very beginning.

When they were young, they used to be pretty vicious with each other, verbally and emotionally. Just becoming friends required a lot of time and compromises, a little bit every time. If you'd asked them, at the time, why they made the effort, neither would admit to consciously doing so. With the benefit of retrospect, if you twisted their arms, they'd both admit that it was loneliness. By that time, they had each spent most of their lives very isolated and alienated, in often hostile circumstances. They had terrible trust issues, particularly directed at adults. Meeting someone of the same age, with similar baggage -- someone who got it -- was a big deal for a pair of dysfunctional teenagers.

In a way it sort of saved them both emotionally, particularly Dante, staving off cynicism and misanthropy for a bit longer. He could still allow himself to make connections with people. Tess found an anchor in herself that propped her up against her own cynicism and she developed her eventual patience with people.

Their separation hurt them both. They had only just started to acknowledge their awkward feelings and Dante was particularly angry about it, for a very long time. He did his best to bury his anger about it, but part of him was greatly frustrated by the feeling that he had allowed something precious to slip through his fingers. Tess was plagued by regrets for years, especially as her own circumstances began to beat her down and she lost hope in even the conviction she had that they might see each other again.

Meeting again after years was not some magical moment where all was suddenly well. They had fresh trauma to work through, more inner demons to fight against. The years had changed them. They were once more practically strangers. They both had secrets they were unwilling to talk about. Dante never managed to find the courage to open up about his family issues and thought Tess was doing him a favor, not asking. She would regret that, eventually, but she only wanted to give him peace. And she was scared to ask, too.

But that memory of the old fondness, the warmth it brought, got them to try; to bridge that distance, re-acquaint themselves with each other and why they got along so well in the first place. It actually didn't take that long for their feelings to run from friendly to something deeper, but it did take them a long time to acknowledge them -- in fact, Dante nearly didn't, until Tess' familiar, Roy, gave him an earful about it. Dante had been convinced that neither were the feelings mutual, nor did he deserve a chance. Roy was not gentle in disabusing him of this notion, and he was quite harsh about Dante treating Tess' feelings too lightly and hiding behind his 'make a joke out of everything' attitude.

He was a little floored that she reciprocated because her own tendency to bottle up her feelings to protect herself made it difficult for her to properly express them, something she continues having difficulty doing, but she tries.

But even after clearing the air, they still can't agree on the precise nature of their relationship, save that they are incredibly important to each other. And that's regardless of how they look to others. Between calling each other names, bickering like an old married couple and even antagonizing each other, it's easy to mistake them for frenemies. They are in fact, just incredibly independent people who don't react well when others interfere in their lives, even someone they love deeply. Theirs is a relationship of constant compromise, pushing and pulling until they find the middle.

Will It Last?

It could. But it all depends on them.

Dante is not one to burn bridges lightly and if you think about it, he is an incredibly forgiving person when it comes down to it. He's given second and even third chances to people who by all rights may not have quite deserved it. He's willing to overlook and forgive a lot of things, even quite heinous ones. He's had to learn to live with a lot of the things he himself does.

But... Tess isn't like that. She's far more firm in her principles and for better or for worse, those mainly center around her survival. She's spent her entire life trying to make sure she isn't killed or worse, eaten by demons and whatever other threat rears its head. She doesn't quite know any other way of living. To be perfectly honest, being anywhere near Dante is a massive risk on her part, and not just because trouble and death follow him like a bad omen. Witches are hunted, quite literally, by both demons and humans in the know. Dante himself poses a legitimate threat to her, no matter how much he or she might believe otherwise. It is a possibility she can never completely remove from her mind.

The thing is, Tess' principles also mean she doesn't let others off the hook easily and can hold grudges. If she had enough evidence that Dante, either directly, or by association, had done things she could never forgive... it might be over. She wouldn't be able to exist in a relationship where she is expected to turn a blind eye to things she can't stomach, no matter how much she loves the other party. She's just too used to having to protect herself and she will do so, even from people she loves. This doesn't mean it's not going to hurt.

Romance

Of the two of them, Dante is the hopeless romantic. And this is despite his long-held belief that romantic love just wasn't really going to be a thing for him. He's aware of the irony. He's all about the grand, sweeping gestures. The flowery confessions, the recitation of poetry and overt and subtle flirtations. He's the one who goes over the top. He's the type to go for a full Hollywood Dip kiss. He wants to go big or go home. And he does it all with all of his usual confidence, even when he’s actually being incredibly awkward. It’s almost as if, now that it’s really dawned on him that he loves her, he wants to yell it from the rooftops. Subtlety just isn’t in his blood.

The problem is, Tess is rather the opposite. She's really not much of a romantic, no matter how much she tries. She appreciates and welcomes romantic gestures, but there is a definite awkwardness that she can’t seem to overcome and she’s rather bad at initiating them herself. Besides, overly "loud" gestures tend to embarrass her and send her running. She swears she understands and appreciates his enthusiasm but anything over the top really goes over her head and makes her feel embarrassed. Her own romantic gestures tend to be small and heartfelt and focus on wanting to be close to the other party. She’ll cook for the both of them and wants to spend time with Dante doing nothing much.

They’ve both had to compromise and reach a happy middle. Dante’s trying to temper his need for showboating and instead make his romantic gestures more intimate and immediate while Tess is learning to be more accepting of Dante’s need to be a flashy dumbass; she doesn’t object so long as there isn’t much of an audience. They have hit and misses but they don’t really mind as long as they’re having fun.

The Physical Side of Things

There is no escaping the fact that Dante, being nearly 6'5", towers over the 5'4" Tess. He's always been taller than her but as adults, the height and size difference can be a little staggering.

Tess is of fairly average height and lean with good curves but she hangs out with much taller people all the time, giving the illusion that she is, in fact,  a shortie, which annoys her to no end. Dante being as tall and broad as he is makes her look even tinier. It's just one part of why she's so feisty and snarky all the time. Obviously, Dante loves ribbing her about her height. He also loves using it against her. He can end their arguments by simply picking her up, throwing her on his shoulder like a sack of dirt and walking off, and he has, much to her annoyance.

To be fair, Tess actually adores how taller he is. He's a great barrier to hide behind when she doesn't want to be directly visible. It's also very hard to miss him in a crowd. Dante finds her height amusing and endearing, even if he has to stoop a little to kiss her. He likes joking that dating her is bad for his back. He won't admit it, but it also makes him feel quite protective of her, even though he knows that she's quite capable of killing things five times her size with little hesitation.

His overwhelming strength can be a bit of a concern, but Dante has never hurt people accidentally because he's actually very well practiced with how he handles it. Tess on the other hand is definitely the more agile and nimble of the two, easily getting around or through obstacles Dante might need to detour around. He jokes she might be part cat with all the climbing, parkour and squeezing through narrow passages she does.

The difference is even more glaring if he happens to be in demonic form, because then he is well over 7' and watching a short witch argue with such a massive beast can be rather worrying for onlookers.

Physical Contact

Once Dante got really comfortable in the relationship, he sort of started to revert to how clingy he was as a young boy. For her part, Tess needed some time to adjust and find her confidence. They started from struggling to figure out how to hold hands to working through how comfortable each other was with touching.

Now Dante has little regard for personal space when it comes to other people and no regard whatsoever when it comes to Tess. He isn't satisfied with just hand-holding or even just a hug. He's progressed to the point where he wants to fully drape himself over her whenever he can and cuddle her like there's no tomorrow. He's also very grabby. In part, Dante gets a thrill out of knowing he can touch her whenever and express affection without saying a word. He's not even afraid to do it in public, though he's still awkward because he has a certain reputation, some street-cred he wants to maintain.

Sometimes he'll just do the aforementioned over-the-shoulder maneuver just for fun, because she gets flustered and mad. And he loves flustering her, because she's funny.

Tess is also quite physically affectionate, but she's rather like a cat in the sense that she'd rather be the one to initiate it and can only tolerate so much before she gets wigged out, but ultimately she likes the attention anyway, even if she grumbles. She likes to lean into the touches, and has a fondness for his hands. She likes nothing better than to curl up against him or on his lap when they're able to relax together. If they happen to share a bed and he spoons her, chances are she'll fall asleep almost immediately because of how cozy and secure she feels.

She tries to be patient with his grabbiness, but there's a time and place for slapping someone's butt and in public or in front of god damn demons is not it. Of course she likes touching him too and her favorite thing is absently playing with his hair and giving him kisses. He's quite funny when he's acting like he's too good for kisses but watch him lean in for them all the same.

Their Effects On Each Other

One of the biggest obstacles they had to navigate in the relationship is the curious interactions that demonic powers have on witches and vice versa. This hadn't crossed their minds as teenagers because neither was Dante potent enough yet to override whatever protections Tess used against demons, nor was her supernatural sense sensitive enough to get overwhelmed.

Now that they're adults and fully grown into their powers, things aren't that simple. Tess needs a large number of personal protections and 'veils' in order to just exist without being tracked down by demons or immediately swarmed by ghosts who want things done. She's very skilled at them and can lead a mostly normal life and work without issues... but Dante is a special case. He gives off such an intense and thick power when he's agitated that it can start to get to her.

The first time she was within close proximity when he shifted to the devil trigger, she was knocked out from the sensory feedback. She tried to make a joke out of it, but she had a hard time trying to adjust and the best she could do was suffer frequent enough exposure to try and acclimate. It took months of frustration and migraines and adjusting personal wards but now she's in a position where she's actually quite comfortable around powerful demons without getting stunned. She still gets nauseous around actual Hell Gates or in the presence of huge numbers of demons, but at least she stays standing.

On the other hand, demons get incredibly excited around witches, and view them as fine prey, since their blood runs thick with power. More than once, Tess has used her presence or some of her blood as bait to lure out demons. Dante is unfortunately not immune to this effect. Even though she's wrapped up in wards, he can still sense her arcane powers and it's impossible not to notice. Her blood smells sweet and spicy to him and he's actually kind of scared of what might happen if he gets a taste. He also has an unusually strong reaction to her powers, if she has to use some kind of effect on him. It seems to overly excite his demonic side, making him a little manic and aggressive. They're both a little baffled as to why this happens since it didn't happen when they were teenagers. It does tend to manifest in his tendency to be a pain in her neck and how much he likes provoking her, but also comes out in how forward he is with her. Sometimes when he's particularly agitated he might get a little edgy in dealing with her and struggle to contain himself.

Worries

They don't like it, but as a consequence of who and what they are, there is always a tension in their relationship. They worry about each other, even if they are not good at showing it. Tess worries about his emotional well-being and his self-control. She's always overly conscious of his demonic nature and how far into it he's venturing. She's afraid he'll hurt her, in every sense, but she also has an incredible amount of trust in him and he knows it. That's what gets to him. He cares more about her than he does himself because he's too used to being the most invincible thing in a space and he's starting to understand that's not the case for her.

Dante's actually rather quietly freaked out by how Tess operates; extremely dedicated to whatever she decides to do and very efficient at planning and then executing ploys that will achieve her goals. She doesn't fight for fun or her pride, she fights to survive and it shows. She's ruthless. When motivated she really is so "do-or-die" that it actually unsettles him. She seems afraid of nothing and as much as he admires her tenacity and ruthlessness, it also terrifies him. She's capable of making some truly difficult decisions just so that others don't have to do so and she follows through with them.

Fights

Dante is generally very laid back and doesn't give a hoot about what other people say or do. He does not argue with people unless pushed, he's got better things to do. Insults towards his person or even his family roll off like water on a duck's back. But the moment Tess snarks at him about something he's said or done, or just generally sasses him and calls him a dumbass, he immediately wants to clap back.

He will bicker with her about the stupidest things and they can end up having quite a stupid back and forth, complete with rather childish insults. And they don't care if they do this in front of others. Several demons have met their end because they assume their quarrel means their guard is dropped, just to be annihilated with an angry remark that they're busy talking.

Most of the time it's all rather a lot of hot air, though, the result of two very stubborn people butting heads. People who don't know them well often get the wrong idea about them, and might worry about Tess' well-being, prodding a huge mercenary like that. The fact of the matter is, 90% of the time, the bickering is trivial and they get over it a few minutes later.

Their actual fights and arguments are much, much different. They are rare and never particularly loud or obvious, and rather than trade barbs, they outright attack each other verbally and challenge each other's authority and reason. They will only rarely raise their voices but their words are full of venom and quiet anger. It takes them a long time to reconcile after such fights, and they are mercifully very uncommon.

Mundane Things

With their lives so full of tragedy, risk, the supernatural and the worst of human nature, they find immense satisfaction in little, mundane things that make them feel a sense of normalcy. Neither knew they craved this sense of normalcy until they started to experience it. They take incredible liberties with each other, things they would never do with anyone else.

Dante will sometimes steal her spare keys and let himself into her apartment, often without even expecting to find her there. He likes napping on her sofa and she lets him be. Because she's paranoid about her safety, her apartment is warded so tightly that not even a tiny demon could find it, let alone get in. But she's woven his presence into the exceptions so he has free pass and that fills him with a incredible sense of glee and accomplishment, being allowed into her sanctum like that. It's a great hiding place from Lady and Morrison, too.

Despite all the snark and their jokes and back and forths, their better moments are spent largely in companionable silence. Dante likes doing nothing in particular and doing fuck all with Tess is just better. Her large sofa means he can spread out and there's still room for her to curl up, still in contact with him and he can nap while she reads, and maybe plays with his hair absently. Or they might actually sit down to watch a movie, because Tess is a film nut, especially about old horror films. He has to admit that watching them with her is fun because she makes the most amusing comments.

Once in a while they’ll have a serious conversation about something - but never about themselves. They're too scared to ask the hard questions. They're... content with how things are.

Sleep

Sleep is a precarious affair for both of them. Dante doesn't need to sleep as much as humans but he does like to conserve his energy and motivation -- like a lion in the savannah, he says. Which... is a poor disguise for his laziness. The truth of the matter is that Dante sleeps poorly much of the time because he's still plagued by nightmares and insomnia brought by guilt and depression.

Tess on the other hand, has frequent bouts of insomnia coming from her hyper-sensitive sixth sense, and is prone to night-terrors and sleep paralysis. She suffers frequent, aggressive visitations by ghosts and other entities attracted to her, and there is only so much she can do to ward her sleeping space and herself from their influences. There are times when she goes sleepless for days until she can solve an issue and it shows.

Dante finds this incredibly frustrating because it's something he can't do much to help her with. There's nothing to fight. He takes some small comfort in her saying that his sheer oppressive presence drives off the small fry, the ones too scared of a demon's aura to bother her.

Which is one more reason why they enjoy sharing a bed. Dante's big, warm and very cozy to sleep nestled against and Dante gets an incredible amount of satisfaction just holding her. She fits very nicely against his chest and hearing her sleep soundly makes him nice and drowsy too. He normally sleeps on his back but it's nice to practically curl up around her.

Laughter

Dante is usually seen scoffing sarcastically, or chuckling in amusement at something going on. It's not common to see him belly laugh often, he saves that for the moments when he's relaxed and around people he trusts. He's started doing it a lot more often now that he's dating Tess because her sense of humor can really get to him. She has a way of telling stupid stories from her jobs relating to ghosts or other witches in a sassy way that makes him wheeze. She considers these moments a personal triumph.

On the other hand, Tess' sense of humor often undermines her usual confident and collected appearance. Dante's cheesy lines and his showboating and his particular brand of jokes crack her up way too easily at times, even when she's trying very hard to keep a straight face. Dante actively enjoys attempting to make her fall apart and when she gets going, she's gone, leading him to call her "crazed hyena" when she's having one of her fits.

They’re both dorks.

#panda writes #devil may cry #oc: tess templar #dmc #headcanons #oc headcanons #dmc headcanons #dante #dmc dante

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

[junghelioseok]

heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

-

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok���s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I��d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

[wishingyouback]

just call me.

semi-tsundere!minho

warnings: none

the walk back to campus would've been short, if it wasn't for the uncomfortable presence of your ex right beside you.

normally, you would've found any type of silence comforting, you would have even preferred it actually, but unfortunately your ex-boyfriend didn't get the memo, and had even got the extra (unnecessary) mile of walking you back to your class after bumping into you during lunch at your favourite, just across the street.

at first, you thought he was just being nice, being a little formal as it's been a while since you two have hung out, but apparently he wasn't, and was genuinely planning to walk you back as if it wasn't making you uncomfortable. after you had voiced out that it wasn't needed, at all. yet here you were, passing through the usual crowd of people with your arms wrapped comfortingly around yourself as you smiled at students you recognised. some who lounged around campus, sitting on the steps and some walking out of their class to sleep in the library -- it was a normal thing.

except for the fact that you noticed a figure making their way up to you, hands tucked coolly in their pocket as they effortlessly slung their leather backpack on one shoulder.

"you got a minute?"

the somber tone you've known minho to have is now hidden behind a more serious one. your ex halts whatever it is he's blabbering on about, staring at you then the raven-haired boy who patiently waits for your answer, not showing any emotion on his face to hint how he's feeling.

"dude, you mind? we were in the middle of a conversation."

in the midst of your surprise, you turn to minho to watch his reaction, but all he does is let out a heavy sigh and lazily turns to face the boy next to you.

"my bad, i thought for it to be considered a conversation there would have to be two people, talking." all you can do is watch the exchange by the side, glancing from one boy to the other. minho smiles sarcastically, then turns back to you, "do you have a minute?"

"i-i," you compose yourself, "i do."

"see," minho turns back to the boy who you once dated during sophomore year. "this is how it's done. see you, dude."

before you can register what is going on, minho subtly slips his calloused hands into your softer ones, trying to ignore the fact that your hands with his, do fit so perfectly together.

you let minho pull you away, taking note of how gentle he's being even when his face shows nothing but pure annoyance of the presence of your ex. when he reaches the quieter side of campus that you're familiar with, he let's your hand go. the both of you stand quietly together, -- this silence, although unexpected, was bearable -- comforting even. you were unsure of what to say. you're not used to seeing minho pull such a stunt, especially out in the open when he had made it clear many times, that he wanted to keep your friendship with him a secret. 

something to do about having to introduce you to too many people if he were to start hanging out with you, which you found amusing since minho had a handful of friends he could tolerate.

he wasn't fond of most people here.

"you were with him," he finally breaks the silence. "why?"

minho doesn't sound judgemental or harsh, in fact he sounds more concerned.

"with him?" you echo back the question, already being able to see minho roll his eyes despite his back still facing you. "it wasn't deliberately... we bumped into each other at Haven and he offered to walk me to class."

"and you said yes?" he finally turns to look at you, eyes carefully scanning your face to see if he's crossing the line.

"no," you sigh. "i said no, but he insisted and then waited 'till i was done so he could pay for my lunch too." you say with deep regret.

minho listens; he nods. he lets it all sink in until suddenly, he rolls his eyes and looks away from you.

"well," he shrugs. "if he tries doing that again just call me."

you furrow your eyebrows. "i thought you didn't like talking on the phone--"

"-- i changed my mind." he says nonchalantly, trying to brush it off but you notice the change in demeanour and bite back a smile. "i'm making an exception, alright? if there's an emergency or anything; just call me."

you’re a little stunned, “you consider this as an emergency?” the bored look he gives you makes you rephrase your sentence, to ask him something else.

"what if you don't pick up?" you genuinely ask.

minho wasn't the best texter, so you couldn't imagine how he'd be like with phone calls.

"i will," he says a little too quickly. "i mean, i will. just text me beforehand or something," he scratches the back of his head before clearing his throat and once again, avoids eye contact.

"lee minho, are you going soft on me?" you tease, deciding to use the moment right now to joke with him before you two part ways and go back to acknowledging each other with quiet nods around campus.

"you wish," he exaggerates a scoff, trying to cover up the pinkness of his cheek with his carefree attitude but he doesn't think he does a good job with it. not when he sees the cute smile you have on your face. "stop having shitty exes, then maybe i wouldn't have to be doing this."

"sure," you respond mockingly. "maybe you should try finding the right guy for me then, you know, since i have shitty exes." you quote with a roll of your eyes.

minho had his own share of ex girlfriends too, some you weren't sure how they ended up with him, but still, he was always picking at your somewhat horrible taste in men. for what reason, you aren't too sure.

"like you'd take my advice," minho scoffs as you two start walking back to the main area.

as you two reach a crowd, you're ready to do what usually do which is, walk away from minho, pretend you didn't see him and continue on with your day. but when you make your usual turn and still feel minho's presence next to you when you start walking up the steps to your class, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"what?"

"this isn't part of the arrangement?"

"what arrangement?"

is he being serious.

"the one you made about us not being seen together? now shoo!"

minho stifles a laugh at how you try to get rid of him as if he's one pesky fly, but shakes his head instead. he places both of his hands onto your shoulders then directs you to to your next class, which you coincidentally have together.

"i guess i changed my mind," he grins. "let's go, you're gonna make us late."

--

tag(s): @brokenwigglyline

--

author's note: can you tell i absolutely missed writing, and posting? :,) hahah but! again, i hope you enjoyed this and if you've read this far; thank you so much x

written roughly under an hour, so i apologise if it isn't any good, again.. but if there are any errors i'll try to fix them asap!

you're loved, always

ily, always x

#stray kids #skz #lee know #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz fluff #leeknow imagines #leeknow fluff #leeknow scenarios #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids soft #skz soft hours #leeknow x reader #stray kids x reader

[stray-tickles]

Amorous

Read on AO3

Jon was… rarely playful. Oh, he had a devious streak which had gotten him into trouble from time to time, but it was buried deep these days. He was the head archivist after all, and had to maintain a certain decorum.

Never mind that said decorum was completely futile with his assistants, all of whom were now fully aware of how debilitatingly ticklish he was. Tim and Sasha had known for some time, and it only took Martin walking in at the wrong time for him to find out too.

Not that Jon minded their frequent attacks, per se. He’d rather die than admit it, but he enjoyed it. He liked the closeness, the laughing, the fun of it all. It was so rare in his life.

Thankfully, Tim and Sasha’s deviousness was such that he never needed to go to much effort to provoke them, if at all. They weren’t so cruel as to make him admit that he liked it, even though Jon was certain they must know. They let him get away with pretending not to want or enjoy it, for which Jon was immeasurably grateful.

He was also grateful for their frequent sneak attacks. It made it very easy to know when one of them was coming up behind him.

Tim was there. No doubt about it. He moved slightly more heavily than Sasha, and more deliberately than Martin. Jon reached for the tape recorder to at least put on a show of not knowing Tim was right there, ready to pounce.

Hmm…

Actually, why pretend when he could have a little fun himself? When he could win, if only for a moment?

Jon cleared his throat and clicked on the tape recorder. “Statement of Jonathan Sims.” He started, hearing Tim’s footsteps stop in what he assumed was confusion. “Regarding an amorous encounter with Tim’s mother the previous night. Statement given fifteenth of March, twenty-seventeen. Statement begins.”

The statement did not, in fact, begin. The only thing to follow Jon’s introduction was deafening silence, every second of which made him want to laugh. He turned his head to look behind him and had to bite down very hard on a smile. Tim was standing there, a few steps away, staring at him with wide, shocked eyes that seemed to have no thought behind them at all. As if Jon’s little prank had short-circuited his brain.

That thought got a little chuckle out of Jon, which in turn seemed to knock Tim out of his stupor. “Oh, you little shit.” He growled.

Jon rocketed out of his seat, already smiling nervously, knowing what was going to happen. “Tim, Tim- wait, TIM!” He darted out the door to the main archive with Tim hot on his heels, giggles bubbling up in his stomach.

Sasha looked up when she saw their chase across the archives. “That time of day again, huh?” She joked.

Tim all but growled. “Call an ambulance Sash, someone’s gonna need to resuscitate this smartass.”

If Jon didn’t know Tim as well as he did, he’d have missed the smile he was hiding behind that exaggerated scowl. “Tim, please, wait- it’s not what you think!” Oh damn. He’d been backed into a corner.

Tim shot forwards, seizing one of Jon’s wrists and making him break into nervous giggles. “Oh yeah?” He smirked. “Please, elaborate.”

Jon swallowed back his laughter, seeing Sasha’s fond sigh from behind Tim’s back. “Well, I’m asexual, you see, so we didn’t do any of that. I just took your mother out for a candlelit dinner and we kissed under the moonlight.”

Tim glared. Sasha howled with laughter, gripping the arms of her office chair to keep from sliding out of it. “Well now you’re in for it.” He said. “Statement of Tim Stoker, regarding the murder of Jonathan Sims.”

It didn’t take much effort for Tim to catch Jon’s other wrist in his hand, pulling both arms up over his head. Then, without preamble, his free hand latched onto Jon’s upper ribcage, fingers poking and wiggling and making Jon shriek.

He barely managed to stay standing for five seconds, his legs buckling under him, unable to keep him upright. To Jon’s surprise, Tim didn’t pin him to the ground. No, he pulled him closer, keeping his arms up above his head and his body pressed close to Tim’s in what could almost be a hug.

A hug, but for the arm wrapped around Jon’s torso, digging fingers into his ribs.

Jon cackled like mad, tugging weakly at his wrists and twisting this way and that in Tim’s grip, unable to do anything else. It was useless, he knew that and he’d dug his grave anyway. Tim’s fingers were long and clever, and he’d long known the spots that made Jon go crazy. “Nononono, ple- Tim please!”

“Got your manners back I see.” Tim teased, scratching mercilessly under his arm now and bringing tears of laughter to Jon’s eyes. “I hope you showed mum some of that.”

God, why was Tim so tall? He couldn’t even lean up to gain a little give and lower his arms, not even by an inch. And that hand kept scratching away at his armpit, laying waste to Jon’s nervous system. “Sorry!” He squeaked. “Sorry, I’m soRRY!”

Tim’s hand moved back to Jon’s ribs, one finger wiggling up and down like a worm and making him snort and flush. “Oh no, don’t be sorry for giving an older woman a lovely night. Where’d you go? Italian place? Spanish?”

Jon shook his head, unable to get a word out between snorting laughter.

“Hmm, let me check.” Fingers spidered and poked across Jon’s stomach through his shirt, dissolving him into giggles. He tried to double over, almost pulling his own feet off the ground to no avail. He was thoroughly stuck, and secretly very happy about it.

Tim grinned, not ceasing the playful torment of his friend. He loved playing like this, getting Jon to relax and let loose once in a while. “Not much here.” He chuckled, squeezing at Jon’s sparse tummy and earning a series of squeaks for his trouble. “Sushi?”

Jon’s glasses were lopsided, though at this point he was surprised that hadn’t fallen right off his face. Electricity was pulsing up his spine, lighting up his face in laughter, and it was so much, “Tickles!” He squealed, unable to think about anything else.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of that place.” Sasha mused from her desk, smiling widely.

“No, I think it’s out past Brixton, right?” Tim said, not letting up. “Caribbean restaurant?”

Jon wheezed in air. “Y-yehes, anything!” He hiccupped, not sure what they were really talking about at this point but knowing he couldn’t stand much more.

“Uh oh, we’re losing him.” Tim teased affectionately. “Got that ambulance Sash?”

She pushed herself to her feet. “Defibrillator’s right here.” She grinned, rubbing her hands together.

Jon kicked his feet weakly against the floor, knowing where they were going with this. “Ha- Sasha no, Sasha plehease, I can’t, I cahahan’t!”

Sasha paused just long enough to catch his eye, then cheerfully shouted, “Clear!” and tazed her fingers into the bottom of Jon’s ribcage.

Jon screamed, bucking violently in reaction to that awful vibrating tickle, cackling helplessly. He would almost believe he’d been shocked with a real defibrillator with how much energy it filled him with.

Then it stopped abruptly, leaving Jon to heave in breaths deeply and try to recover some of his faculties.

“Clear!”

Jon shrieked again, his legs collapsing completely and leaving his feet hanging off the floor, his arms still in Tim’s grip as he squirmed and laughed. He managed only a few seconds before hiccupping out, “Naha- stop! Stopstopstopstopstop ehehehe-”

Sasha pulled her hands away before he’d finished pleading, ruffling his hair affectionately. “He lives!” She joked. “Good to have you back with us.”

Jon continued to giggle, sinking against Tim to remain upright when his arms were freed. “Fired, both of you.”

They both laughed. “Oh sure,” Tim joked, keeping one arm wrapped around Jon in a hug. “Fire me, I’ll just go to HR and tell them what you said about my mother.”

Sasha snorted into her hand. “That was really funny.”

Tim gasped. “You wanna be next?” He threatened, then immediately backed away when Sasha took a step towards him in response. “Fair point.”

Jon smiled into Tim’s shoulder. He felt… fuzzy. Fuzzy and happy and… loved.

Sasha retreated back to her desk, still grinning at him. Jon was dimly aware that he probably looked a mess, glasses barely on his face, red cheeks, mussed hair. He could live with that, for now.

Tim chuckled and half carried him back to his office. It was almost unfair how cute Jon looked sometimes. “Sit down before you fall.” He teased warmly.

Jon huffed a laugh as Tim let him down into his seat. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Tim grinned. He hesitated at the doorway. “One of these days, you’ll figure out that you can just ask, instead of trying to provoke us all the time.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat up and crossed his arms around his waist. He bit his lip and looked down at his desk. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Get back to work, boss.”

Taking the tape recorder, Jon chuckled and clicked it on. “We met at a lovely tapas bar by the Thames…”

Tim barked a laugh. “You son of a bitch.” He muttered, closing the door behind him.

Jon turned off the tape recorder and grinned to himself.

He really liked this feeling.

#tickle fic #tma tickles #ticklish!jon #my fic #s1 archive crew #Jonathan Sims #tickles

[4dtk]

NCT DREAM: s/o likes using expletives/sounds while doing mundane tasks

anon: “hello! Can i ask an nct dream reaction to their s/o making lil sounds. I have a habit of making sounds when moving, for example when i scoot over to someone i’ll make a sound like “chukuchuku” and when i jump off a couch i’ll say “pong!” or “weee!” tysm!!” hi anon!!! so glad you decided to request! haven’t written for nct dream for a hot minute so i hope it’s okay!!

i used a lot of laugh/laughter/smile in this one LOL SORRY ABOUT THAT ;; i’ll put it under a cut bc it’s really long!

→ MARK honestly i think mark would just giggle. definitely. that man’s giggle machine never runs out wtf. anyway, without fail he usually breaks into giggles at the sounds that you make. when he becomes used to it, he’ll just smile to himself and continues to do what he’s doing, knowing that you heard his noise of mild amusement. mark’s made it clear that he loves it, but sometimes he laughs a lot that you’re conscious of it. when you do get insecure about it he doesn’t hesitate to let you know that it’s one of his favourite quirks of you!!! i also can honestly see him taking inspiration from ur sounds to include as adlibs to his songs ngl LMAO. 

“yo… can you say that again?” mark says enthusiastically, bringing in his portable recording mic so he could take down your unique sound. you roll your eyes with a smile, pushing out a few more sounds that mimicked the one before the click on mic goes off. your jaw drops, “you didn’t tell me you were already recording!” that prompted you to smack him, causing the endless fit of a laugh-fest you always caught yourself in when you’re with mark.

→ RENJUN fond smile fond smile fond smile!!! renjun loves it when you exclaim out when you leave the couch or have to manoeuvre around something to get somewhere. he likes showing affection to you no matter where you phrase you exclaim, although it’s not that showy. if you happen to do your sound at the dining table some of the members will know for sure that renjun will take your hand under the table or wear a lovesick smile that all of them know too well. renjun has the sweetest words for days too looooord, only if you’re alone tho and wants to know more about your habit and how it came to be??? if that make sense!

the familiar grasp of his hand doesn’t faze you, shooting the man a sheepish smile over the table as you feel his thumb graze over your skin. “renjun, bro, i’m happy for you and all, but i think they can’t eat if their dominant hand is being held,” you hear haechan call out, making the table erupt into light laughter. renjun ignores him but fails to ignore the blush on his cheeks, threatening hyuck with a raised hand as a joke. he doesn’t care about the others, though, when he sees the wide smile on your face and feels the squeeze of his hand in yours.

→ JENO you know how he like has that “hhmnnnmh?” sound. idk how to explain it but the thing that he always does whenever one of the dream members do or say some weird shit. yea he’d do that. the first few times were out of genuine confusion, but as jeno became more used to your sounds and exclamations, he hummed out mostly as a reply to it. the atmosphere would go silent a little as he stares at you with his big, deer-caught-in-the-headlight eyes, and he holds that stare with you for a good 15 seconds LOL. def challenges you by wiggling his head around and then ending up tackling you to the couch or bed. if you’re sitting at a table the most he’d do is to probably land a kiss on your face after teasing you. mans just looking for an excuse to kiss you tbh.

“hhm?” jeno perks up to look to you, head tilted at an angle as you move closer to him at the dining table. his feigned surprise expression switches into a smile as he inches closer to you, ignoring your protests until there’s no more space left. jeno lets out a raspy laugh, lips coming into contact with your temple as the playful nature subsides.

→ HAECHAN the first time you do it, he lets out a dramatic gasp: hand to his mouth, jaw dropped etc. he’s a drama mama but you brush it off with a shove to his shoulder. hyuck def matches your energy like jaemin does but it’s mostly at the expense of his usual whines and pouts. you do it one time and the man does it ten times over. in no time he’s already cuddled up way too close to you with an arm around your waist and his head snuggled into your neck. he loves it when you say your phrases bc then he can exclaim something on his part like “very cute! but i’m cuter!” and you’d have to smack him or something. he dissolves into a fit of giggles along with the usual teasing, but other than that he likes communicate his fondness of your habit through physical touch.

moving around the project you had just bought wasn’t difficult but you couldn’t help the phrase that came naturally each time. “can you make that sound too when you’re riding-“ you don’t waste any time to land a mild slap on his forearm, gaining a laugh from your boyfriend who casually stated it during your movie night. your glare speaks tons, but haechan doesn’t care as he’s all smiles into your hair before continuing the movie. you, too, relax, knowing it was all fun banter that made your time with him all the more enjoyable.

→ JAEMIN oh my god jaem would match your energy 100%, even if the energy isn’t that high as he usually portrays himself in nct videos. with you, he’s a bit more reserved and kept to himself, but he likes it and you like it, too. when you’re moving past someone and make a noise he echoes you in the same manner you said it. and then the smile that comes after? omg 10/10!! beautiful smile!! jaemin just melts at your silly habit and the widest smile spreads across his face tbh. if you’re saying it while you’re alone with him i can see him just laughing and giggling at the words you manage to exclaim, cooing over how cute you are in his arms. jaem best boy

the ring of jaemin’s laughter fills your ears as your butt scoots closer to him, engaging him in the same fun sounds that you frequently make. jaemin repeats it in an exaggerated way, shooting you the biggest grin before pecking your forehead, “ah… why are you so cute (y/n)…” you easily nuzzle into his embrace, relishing in the warmth of his natural body heat and the arm around your waist.

→ CHENLE would counter your sound with a weird sound of his own. i know jaemin makes weird sounds but this man is on a whole other level PLSS. if you’re feeling playful you would reply and this feud of some sort would just continue until one of the other members ask you two to shut up, which would of course result in chenle’s recognisable dolphin laugh. even if you’re a little tired, i feel like the energy would still be up a little, so expect some prodding at your cheek or sides and kiss attacks from the mans. he would definitely coo, but not in the cheesy, cutesy way jaemin would. chenle has a more teasing and outgoing nature to him. it’s relentless and you’d have to stop him at some point but he’s making you laugh and having such a good time so you admire him instead.

the shrill sound fills your ears, responding to your phrase with one of his own. when you reply, he does it too, which prompts you to sigh in resignation at his endless energy. chenle catches on, but doesn’t press on further, instead entertaining you by giving you endless pecks on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips. you name it. the laugh he had, now, was more muted, liking the way your sounds of mixed protest and joy meant the opposite, “hey stop! baobei, you’re messing up my hair!”

→ JISUNG the poor boy would jump a little, but he finds himself being able to connect your actions to the sound you would make. i think the only time he would be really started was if you exclaimed a new phrase or if the action itself takes him off guard. like almost colliding with him in a hallway or popping up behind the fridge. jisung would have the littlest hint of a smile on his face, although he tries not to show it that much. i feel like he also would chuckle to himself quietly. he likes the quirk a lot that he finds himself thinking about it from time to time and even picking it up for fun one day. it felt so natural to do it that he just started to do it, too. maybe not as often as you do though! he usually cringes at it tho LMAO he doesn’t know how you make it sound so endearing. his reaction would be also just be a moment of “omg that was so cute, i love them so much”

as you land on the sofa with a sound spilling from your lips, you don’t miss jisung’s flinch at your appearance. “that one’s new,” his eyes are wide, but it eventually melts into a smile. he naturally leans back as he accepts the defeat shown on the television screen, but you don’t miss a beat to snatch the controller from him, going ahead to play the game in his stead. as you curl up by his side, you quickly beat your boyfriend at the level as his arm curls around your torso cautiously. jisung can only smile in the moment, finding that it was reaching his ears when you tease him again about the easy level.

#nct #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct x reader #nct x you #nct reactions #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream soft hours #nct soft hours #nct blurbs #nct headcanons #nct dream headcanons #nct dream x reader #nct mark #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct jisung #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct renjun #mark scenarios #jaemin scenarios #jeno scenarios

[miekasa]

hunter x hunter (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing:  eren jaeger x reader

↯ genre and warnings: modern au, established relationship/boyfriend au, gamer/streamer eren for the win, he’s a little bit of a himbo but he’s cute and he’s trying his best okay

↯ summary: you’ve been stuck on finding a name for your new rescue puppy for a few days now, when you decide to name him after your lovely boyfriend. it’s too bad he doesn’t get your reference. (yes, i know i called it hunter x hunter which is a completely different anime but that’s the joke, you’ll get it as you read, hopefully).

↯ notes: i know technically eren isn’t (confirmed? officially?) german, but just roll with it for me hehe; also, welcome to the first part of my living with pets series, featuring eren and his and your new favorite german shepherd husky mix. 

When you walk into Eren and Armin’s shared apartment, you can hear the former in his room, talking loudly to who you presume to be his current virtual audience.

You don’t see any signs of Armin’s shoes at the door, indicating that he’s likely not home at the moment, which you’re silently thankful for. Not because you don’t like the blonde, but because your new, tiny, puppy seems to like him, and his favorite trainers a little too much—poor Armin now only had the left foot of his Adidas Superstars to his name.

Carefully, and away from the other shoes near the entrance, you let the pup down onto the floor, his small feet padding in place on the hardwood, before going to snuff out Eren. You chuckle to yourself; you’ve only had the puppy for a little over two weeks, but both he and Eren have formed a mutual attachment towards each other. Well, you suppose you can’t blame the dog, he was technically in Eren’s care first, seeing as Eren gifted him to you for your birthday.

Eren had told you the dog was a rescue, born prematurely on a farm a few hours away, and had had his left back leg fractured when one of the walls of a pig pen had unfortunately collapsed on him. He’s has surgery since, and is in the final stages of his recovery, injury almost undetectable now; but when Eren saw the poor pup at a shelter a few weeks ago, he claimed he knew it would be love at first sight for you.  

“Ah, there’s my best boy!” you hear Eren’s elated voice from the room over.

Sometimes, you wonder if the dog really was a present for you, or secretly for him, too. Eren makes his appearance after, trekking out of his room clad in sweatpants and long sleeve tee with your puppy in his arms.

“Hey, sorry, did he interrupt your stream?” you question, meeting his strides halfway to press a kiss to his cheek, “I heard you talking when we came in.”

“Nah, I was recording a video, it’s nothing I can’t edit later,” Eren assures you, turning his head again to sneak a proper kiss on your lips, “Besides this little guy could never interrupt me. Did you need me to watch him?—Because, I can totally take him for the weekend.”

Seriously, you’re almost eighty percent certain the only reason he’s not Eren’s dog is because of the pet-technicalities of his lease. And, well, the pup’s clear fetish for Armin’s sneakers.

“No, I thought maybe you’d like to see your human girlfriend.”

“Aw, baby, it’s not like that,” Eren chuckles at your sarcasm as you roll your eyes, “You know I love you.”

“Clearly,” you drawl, watching as the puppy all but attempts to climb Eren’s shoulders, his front paws resting against his collar as Eren holds him like you would a newborn baby.

But your boyfriend pays you no mind, simply cooing and bouncing away. You’ll admit it’s kind of cute, the way Eren dotes on the dog—or any animal he comes across, really. Still, it was your puppy, now and you’ll be damned if you lose out on puppy cuddles to him.

“Actually, I came here to tell you I finally named him,” you say, reaching out to scratch against his soft fur.

You were at excited when Eren told that since he was so young, neither the farmers, nor the rescue vets had decided on a name, so you had full control; but you had to admit, there was a bit of pressure to find the perfect name. Until a few days ago, when it finally hit you. 

“His name is Hunter,” you tell him, smiling as the dog’s ears perk slightly as his name leaves your mouth. You were worried he wouldn’t take to it well, but he seemed to be a fast learner. “It said on his papers he was bred to be a hunter companion dog, so I thought it was fitting.”

“That’s cute,” Eren smiles, supporting Hunter from his belly to hold him up and above his face, “Hi Hunter. You’re still my best boy, but now you’ve got an official name.”

The pup barks, almost ceremoniously, as if he understood Eren’s words. With the way these two are stuck to each other, Hunter probably did. 

“Yeah, that, and because, he reminds me of you, so I figured he should have a name to match. Plus, he’s half german shepherd,” you elaborate, brushing his tiny paws between your fingers as Eren brings Hunter back to his chest for more pets, “I know technically that would make his name Hunter Hunter if he has your last name, but I still think it sounds cute.”

Eren pauses, eyebrows crinkling together as he processes your words. “Huh? My name isn’t Hunter, though?”

“Well, yeah, I know,” you wave him off, crouching slightly for the pup to lick at your cheek. Hunter shifts his posture so that now he’s basically sitting in Eren’s crossed arms, perfectly content with the affection he’s giving and receiving, “That’s why I said technically, babe.”

But Eren still stands confused. “What—Technically, what? I don’t get it.”

You pause, straightening your knees to look up at Eren. You’d thought he was just pulling at your leg with his earlier comment about his name, but one look into those green eyes and you knew he was dead serious. And thoroughly confused.

“I—I mean, because of your last name,” you say, “Not your first name.”

Eren’s knitted eyebrows grow closer together. “But… my last name is Jaeger.”

You blink again, looking into his eyes, then down to Hunter, then back up at him. Dear god.

“Eren, sweetie, look at me,” you reach a hand out, squishing his cheeks between your thumb and index finger, “What are you?”

“Huh? What do you—”

“Your ethnicity, babe. Where you are from—where were you born?”

“Oh, um,” Eren thinks before replying, “Germany.”

“Right,” you nod slowly, “And you understand that Hunter is half german shepherd, correct?”

“Yeah, but, then why didn’t you—”

“Hush, don’t worry, you’ll get there,” you silence him by squish his cheeks further, before continuing, “And you speak German, too, right babe?”

“Well, yeah. Remember, you think it’s sexy when I—”

“I think it’d be sexy if you understood what I was saying,” you interrupt him, squishing his cheeks again, “Now, what does your name translate to in English from German?”

Eren takes a minute to ponder that, exaggerating his already smushed lips with a pout. “Hm, um, well, Eren doesn’t mean anything, I think? Or anything easy translate—honestly, I don’t think it’s German, it might be Hungarian? Or Turkish, maybe? I should probably ask my mum—”

“Sweetheart, your last name.”

“Oh!” he exclaims, “Jaeger?”

“Yes, Jaeger.” Finally.

Eren pulls his lips into a line as best he can when you take your hand off of his face. “Oh, well that means hunter, I’m pretty sure. There’s another german word that sounds pretty similar, jä—Oh! Oh! Oh, wait babe I just got it! You named him Jaeger, but Hunter, so his name is technically Hunter Jaeger, which is also Jaeger Jaeger and Hunter Hunter!”

Eren could pass as the hyperactive puppy with his wide eyes and the way he’s almost bouncing off the walls at his revelation.

“Babe that’s genius!” he praises you, “And super cute—you’re so cute, you know that. Hunter’s the perfect name and—oh! and he’s half german shepherd, it’s like it was meant to be!”

You stare at him, deadpan, as he smothers Hunter with more hugs and kisses, exclaiming about the puppy’s “brilliant” new name, and how he’s now even more of the best boy Eren’s ever seen. Eren’s ecstatic at this point, holding the puppy with just one hand, as he all but sprints back to his room, “I gotta tell all my subscribers!”

You sigh, a begrudgingly fond look on your face as Eren disappears down the hall. Poor Hunter; you’re pretty certain a good number of Eren’s subscribers flock to his videos for his looks, anyway—not that he’s not a good gamer, or an entertaining streamer, but well, you’re not blind, or naive—throwing a dog into the mix is only guaranteed more views and likes.

You hear Eren starts to record his signature introduction, but he stops halfway because a bark from Hunter interrupts him. “Come on, little Jaeger, you have to work with me here,” Eren whines loudly, before starting over.

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re so lucky you’re cute, Eren.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #eren fluff #eren smut #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eren jaeger #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader

[laladellakang]

What was della’s reaction when k and ej were featured in the drunk dazed mv?

so i’ve decided that it’s best for della to be a part of enha instead of sooha because… it’ll make more sense tbh (even though i was really excited for her to be sooha 😩 but oh well) sorryyy

she’ll probably still have a love interest in enha or &audition but we’ll have to see who later

2022.04.03

“Oppas!” Della squealed at the sight of the two already in uniform. She ran to give them both a hug. “I missed you!”

“We missed you too, Della,” they hugged her back. They stayed that way for a few seconds before letting go.

“Your hair is pink! Just like what you wanted,” K brushed his hand gently through her hair, careful not to mess it.

“You remembered!” Della beamed.

“-and we’re all wearing uniforms- your favourite,” EJ smirked while holding out his arms.

“You searched it up, didn’t you?”

“Yah! So hyung gets a ‘you remembered’ but when it’s me it’s a ‘you searched it up’?!” Della laughed at his protest and gave him another hug.

“I’m kidding, oppa. I’m flattered that you remembered too.”

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

“So Della enters the room and you have to look intrigued- like ‘this is our chance to talk to her,’” the director instructed to the two boys. “Then K will appear again later in the hallway.”

“Okay,” the nodded and got into position. Two hair and makeup staffs came over to touch up their appearance.

“Why do you wanna talk to me anyway?” Della joked while watching them get ready.

“‘Sup?” EJ cocked his head up with a cocky expression.

“How you doin’?” K joined in, a smirk placed on his lips.

“No thank you. I’m attracted to vampires,” Della shook her head playfully. “Wait- am I attracted to vampires? It’ll be funny if I end up with you or you’re my ex or something,” she covered her smile with her hand.

“If we wanna get to you-” K pointed to the rest of Enha standing away from their scene. “We have to get through seven bodyguards,” his comment made Della chuckle.

“But Della is the scariest of them all,” EJ told K before imitating an exaggerated version of Della’s RBF. “‘I don’t like werewolves.’”

“Yaa!” Della whined with a grin.

“I swear- you two haven’t seen in each other in months and you’re still finding ways to tease one another,” K snickered. “God forbid for you to be in the same group.”

“Okay, let’s start rolling!”

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

“Oppa, it’s not nice to creep on people. Especially in the dark like this,” K and Della were getting ready for their scene together.

“If I did this in real life, you would probably scream,” K chuckled.

“Nevermind scream- I would cry!”

❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆◦❅◦❆

K noticed something that day. He knew that the Enha boys were fond of Della (from I-Land and also the videos he’s watched) but something was different.

He noticed the little touches they like to place for no reason and how chill the other members are whenever it happens.

In I-Land and earlier Enha videos, it was clear that the boys were somewhat awkward with each other. The speculation was because they were fighting for Della’s attention, since they all fancied her.

But on that day, he saw (with his own eyes) that they had become way more comfortable and bold. The boys don’t seem that jealous of each other, and they didn’t seem jealous of him.

He didn’t want to assume, but it’s as if they knew that she liked them back this time. Though he also didn’t want to ruin the mood so he didn’t ask.

One thing he was certain of, however, was how their feelings definitely increased tenfold since their last meeting.

let me know which fic is your favourite! it means a lot to me 💫

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @1-800-enhypennabi @one16core @ilyxion @toriluvsfics @i90snoo @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @clar-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys [@studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint]

#kang della #requests #enhypen ff #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x oc #8th member of enhypen #enhypen 8th member #enhypen oc #enhypen added member #enhypen eigth member #enhypen female addition #enhypen female member #kpop added member #kpop oc #enhypen female oc #della kang #enhypen imagines #enhypen poly fic #enhypen poly #clc - ldk asks

[yunkiwii]

—potions gone wrong—

☆ hogwarts au ☆

pairing: bsf!hyunjin x gn!reader | ft. jeongin and mentions of minho

supportive oc: angela, female

genre: sfw. comedic and chaotic, may be considered fluff by some people

wc: 2.4k

warnings: hints of jealousy, mentions of illegal (magical world wise) actions, potion-induced obsession

a/n: i'm pretty sure that in the harry potter series amortentia doesn't work the way i described here, but let's just ignore that shall we? ♡

summary: two boys decide to make a love potion to conquer the crush of one of them. unfortunately, something seems to have gone wrong and y/n needs to step in..

shout out to: ficscafe prompt dialogue event ♡

↳ "I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

↳ "I don't think that's legal, but we can work around it."

↳ "Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic"

Completely imersed in the pile of books you gathered in the library in order to try and understand more about potions, you get startled when a boy throws himself into the chair next to you, a yellow stripped tie hitting your head in the process.

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you kiss me."

"What? No!", you give him a disgusted and confused look before digging your head into the old dusty pages again.

"Come on!! Angela keeps coming to me trying to snuggle and kiss me and-", as dramatic as he is, Hyunjin pretends he is going to be sick, exaggerating on the nasty sounds way too close to your ear.

"What? Why?", your bestfriend finally caught your full attention as you turn to face him, "Wait, Angela as in like, Angela your major crush perfect-Angela? Weren't you supposed to like, I don't know, enjoy the attention?" But then the face he makes, his cheeks turning shades of pink as his gaze drifts away from you and he sinks down in his chair in embarrassment, realization hits you, "No! No you did not! Are you like what, dumb?", you flick is head inducing a loud squeal to come out his mouth.

"It was Jeongin's idea!", his voice three pitches higher than before, "And I can't be that dumb if I managed to make that stupid love potion work. But that's beside the point, will you do it or not?"

"Do what? Kiss you? And how will that help you dimwit?", you went to flick his head again because, to be fair, he deserved it, but Hyunjin knew you too well and held your hand in time to stop you from hurting his pretty face, as he likes to state.

"To break the curse! Make her give up on me by making her think we're together or something!"

"What curse? There is no curse! And she isn't even thinking right now, she might just kill me out of jealousy!", at this point you're pratically yelling at each other and are forced to leave the library, resuming this odd conversation on your way to Ravenclaw's common room.

"I still can't believe you let yourself go with what Jeongin tells you. He's evil you know?"

"Should've guessed by the green scarf huh?", you slap his arm lightly, not very fond of the jokes made regarding the fact your other best friend is a Slytherin.

"So, how do I solve this?", he basically pleas at you as you sit down on the desk next to the fireplace, as far away as possible from your housemates. Every two in three students has made, or attempted to make, some sort of potion or spell to have something in their advantage. However, amortentia wasn't just "some potion", and if some were to find out that Hwang - head in space - Hyunjin succeded at his attempt they would never leave his poor ass alone, so for now your plan was to keep this subject as low-key as possible.

"Marry her." you say nonchalantly while, without his knowledge, already looking up all about amortentia, its possible side effects and how long it would take to wear off - if ever-, receiving a whine in return.

"It was really fun at first, you know? The flirting was cute, the smooches were great," and boy he put some emphasis on that adjective,"but now it's like she's obsessed with me! She's clingy and talks with that annoying voice and I can't seem to get rid of her!" Hyunjin throws himself face down into the old couch and whines again, words muffled by the pillow where he burried his face. "She's probably standing right outside the door just now!"

"Wait, what do you mean it was fun at first? How long has this been going on Hwang Hyunjin? And why am I only knowing of this now?", you turn around in your chair way too fast, hitting with your knee on the other chair next to you before facing the mop of brown hair all spread around the blue pillow.

"Well, I barely ever saw you all week!", the boy turns his head just the minimum amount to look at you, "You're either with your nose buried in those old books, or with your hands all over Lee Minho! Not my fault you no longer have time for your friends..."

"First of all," you pull out the pillow he's laying on, his face falling on the black cushion as a few curses leave his lips, "lower your tone! I did not spend the week with my hands all over Minho, I am tutoring him in potions!"

"Which you're not that good at, that's why you walk everywhere with those fat books..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes at you as he recovers the pillow from your hands again, "Don't deny it (y/n), you've got the hots for him!"

"Oh sweetie, I sense jealousy in your tone... is that why you gave Angela a poorly made potion?", you show him the page you've been reading between the backs and forths of your not so relevent argument, only for him to realize the potion should've worn off two days ago. Instead, it only got worse. "Perhaps you could use some reading too huh?"

The boy rips the book from your hands, grunting between his teeth sounds you doubted to be words as he makes his way out, only to shut the door as soon as he opens it, squealing loudly when his eyes meet the ones from the Gryffindor's brunette standing right in the middle of the hallway.

"I'm telling you (y/n), she won't leave me alone! It's like she's obsessed!", Hyunjin keeps his back against the door, afraid the girl could open it by some miracle driven by her potion induced feelings, hence she doesn't have the password.

"Well, you see Hyunjin... that's because she is! And it's your fault, you should simply face it..."

"Oh I'm going the kill Jeongin...", the boy grunts ignoring your words completely as the whines coming from the other side of the door overlapped them, "Can you go get him? Or get rid of her?"

You make your way to the door Hyunjin refuses to unblock and, when words and pushes didn't make the tall boy move, you had to resort to your wand, although the simple threat was more than enough for him to make way for you. He stayed hidden in the corner as you parted the door slightly to tell the girl her beloved had disapparated from there, and she should probably look at the quidditch court. The fact she believed you only proved how strongly she was affected by the potion, since everyone knew Hyunjin would never go to a sports court by his free will and disapparating into and out Hogwarts wasn't possible at all.

As soon as the path got clear you both made your way to the shrieking shack through the whomping willow everyone was so afraid of, but that was exactly why the three of you claimed it as your secret meeting place.

Jeongin was already waiting as you sent him a message through your magic notepad when you got rid of Angela, and you had to secure Hyunjin to not throw the book at the Slytherin boy who only laughed in return. The laughter didn't last long though, because you only stopped Hyunjin so you would be the one scolding the younger one, flicking his head the same way you did to the lover boy earlier.

"Hey! What did you do that for?", the boy frowned at you rubbing his forehead.

"To bring you back to reality, so you can both fix the mess you made!"

"But what's the problem?" Jeongin looked at you with honest confusion on his face, "Is this about the potion? You know that thing wears off in like a week or so right?"

"Exactly... do the math now genius..." Hyunjin rolls his eyes before leaning his back against the spiderweb covered walls.

The three of you spent the whole afternoon trying to figure out what went wrong in the first place, you analyzing every single detail of the procedure, and the boys trying to recreate every step they took to reach the final product. But, after hours of research and theories nothing seemed to have gone wrong, well except for the exaggerated and long-lasting effect of the potion.

"We should just obliviate the poor girl..." suggested Jeongin at one point, head in his hands as a sing of withdrawal.

“I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it...” You agree with him closing the book you were now reading for the fifth time.

"Are you guys serious? Because that sounds great! Can we get away with it?" Hyunjin's eyes were sparkling in hope as he shifted in his seat to a more straight up position, ready to do whatever it took to get to walk in peace around the school, without being unexpectedly smooched in the cheek and squezeed into a hug every time the girl spotted him.

"No, it's a joke!" You both sigh at your friend's desperation before calling it a day, deciding to resume your research first thing in the morning.

As per usual, you met with the boys for breakfast at the dining hall, though this time they weren't alone and you couldn't help out a giggle when Angela, as glued to Hyunjin as possible while feeding him something funny looking with a spoon, winked at you as soon as you sat in front of her and next to Jeongin. The latter looked almost as horrified as the pampered boy, and you had to focus to try and keep yourself from bursting into laughter before the scene that was unfolding in front of you.

Hyunjin looked like an annoyed pouty baby slumped in his chair - as an attempt to go unnoticed -, while the smiley girl, - one that seemed to have way too much energy in the morning -, pulled some strands of the boy's hair behind his ear before kissing his cheek, "You're so pretty Hyunnie-jin, and I hate to leave you," the girl pouts as she pinches his cheeks rather aggressively, "but don't worry sugarplum, I'll be waiting for you in the astronomy tower when you leave class." This time the kiss is aimed at his lips, but Hyunjin antecipates her intentions and dodges his head with a slick move, just not fast enough to be fully free of her, ending up with her lips awkwardly attached half to his jaw, half to the corner of his lip.

"So you decided to give in?" You couldn't help the grin that was forming on your face, finding it hilarious how the universe always had a way to keep things balanced.

"Shut up. I had to if I didn't want to starve myself, it was one sacrafice I was willing to take." Hyunjin furiously rubs his face with a napkin, as if it would erase the memory of the previous demonstration of affection.

"I say it's the karma, you were basically playing and manipulating her the moment you gave her the potion, now you face the consequences."

"It's like she's taking revenge..." Jeongin mumbles more to himself than to his friends, but he was still heard, and had now two pairs of eyes locked on him waiting for a further explanation to what seemed to be a pretty plausable theory. "We already concluded we didn't do anything wrong, right?"

"Yes, it's still hard to believe though..." you take a sip of your pumpking juice with a raise eybrow, honestly still impressed at how they pulled that off.

"So what if she got aware that Hyunjin gave-"

"We, Jeongin, we!! This wasn't just me okay? I just got the, uh, benefits?"

"Ok, sure, whatever... What if she became aware that we," emphasis on the pronoun as he glanced at Hyunjin, "gave her a potion and now that it wore off she is pulling this act as a pay back? Because, according to our lover boy, if it was nice at first then why would she suddenly start acting all obsessively?"

Both you and Hyunjin took a moment to reflect on this new theory, one Jeongin was really proud of as showed by his smug grin when he crossed his arms and relaxed back in his chair.

"I hate to admit it, but that makes a lot of sense... and explains why she winked at me when I got here..."

"Okay yes, she is faking it... why else would she wink at (y/n) when I'm the one she's supposed to be focused on?", the boy threw his arms up with a questionting - and slightly offended - look.

"Time for confrontation!" you were already standing up with Hyunjin following the lead, but you held yourselves back when you realized Jeongin wasn't moving, looking between the both of you still grinning.

"I've got a better idea..."

It was a terrible idea, you thought, and wanted no part in it at all so you let the boys discuss the details while you just sat there judging their poor life decisions.

The plan was for Hyunjin, instead of confronting her and get it over with as you suggested, to play along as if he too was deeply in love with her, and see who would break out of character first. As much as you tried to explain how childish and stupid the plan was, the boys simply wouldn't listen to you, convinced this was the best idea they've ever had.

Hyunjin got oddly excited about this and ran to astronomy class, already antecipating the act he would pull off when he'd see the girl waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs when he'd get out, leaving you and Jeongin alone in the dining all. The contrast of your opinions on this was pretty clear in your faces, Jeongin laughing loudly, you furrowing your brows and shaking your head in disapproval.

Then, all of a sudden, the boy stops laughing and looks at you, "What if they actually end up falling in love after all this?"

He sounded seriously concerned yet amused at the same time, while you only rolled your eyes at him before collecting your books and leaving for class as well.

"Shut up, this isn't a wattpad fanfic."

networks: @ficscafe @k-library @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv

⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡

#ficscafe dpe #klibrary #kdiner #districtninewriters #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids scenarios #lovestaynet #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin sfw #hyunjin crack #hyunjin hogwarts au #stray kids hogwarts au

[milkybonya]

irrelevant

order 024, anon: large banana milk tea with grass jelly and pudding

word count: 1k+

summary: college!Yanan and y/n share the same elective class and have to work on the same assignment despite 'hating' each other

[a/n] do you ever just stop and think about how pretty Yanan is cause i just did that and now i feel faint,, he's so pretty that i'm light-headed and dizzy wowee

"Yanan. Yanan is your partner. did you not hear me?" the ta says as you blink back at them in response.

they sigh and run their fingers through their hair, and you finally snap back to reality.

"Yanan... right," you say, looking down.

"yes, Yanan. i think i lost you there for a second, [y/n], but i'm glad you're back with us. Yanan is absent today, so i'd recommend contacting him somehow before next week's tutorial, because this assignment is due soon."

great.

you: hi Yanan, this is [y/n] from that elective class we both have. we've been partnered up for assignment 2, wanna meet up sometime?

when days pass without a reply and the weekend comes, you get angry and decide to call him.

"hello?" a sleepy voice responds.

"yes, hello Yanan. good-damn-morning! it's 3pm!" you snap.

you can hear him move his phone away from his ear to check who's calling him.

"[y/n]? what's up, why are you calling me?"

"cause you're not answering your messages and we have a group assignment due in two weeks!"

"just let me know what i have to do and i'll get it done," he says.

"that's not how this works, you idiot. this is a theatre class and both of us need to be involved."

Yanan sighs.

an hour later, you're sitting across from him at a local café, angrily sipping your drink as he rubs his eyes and yawns.

"so what's the assignment?" Yanan asks.

"why didn't you check before coming?" you ask.

"did you?" Yanan retorts.

when you're silent, Yanan raises his eyebrows at you.

"okay! you've got me there! but i was there for tutorial and heard the ta explain it, at least," you say.

"okay, know-it-all," Yanan says, sticking his tongue out at you.

"anyways... we need to come up with a two person, one scene, one act play," you explain.

Yanan nods along.

"yeah okay sounds terrible, i am not doing this with you," he says, snorting.

"you can be the one to childishly beg to our ta for new partners, then," you say.

Yanan rolls his eyes, sighs, and leans back in his seat.

"you write the script and we can meet in two days to go over it?" Yanan suggests.

"me? Write it? Alone?"

Yanan nods.

"you're the good writer here, so i trust your judgement."

you can't tell if he's trying to push all the workload onto you or if he genuinely is complimenting you.

"i'll pay for the coffee in return. see you in two days," Yanan says before standing up to leave.

-

two days later, just as Yanan said, you find yourself sitting across from him on the ground in your cramped dorm room. his eyes scan the script you handed him just moments ago, and you feel nervous waiting for his reaction.

you want him to like it... why? why do you care so much about this boy whom you also hate so much? well, hate is an exaggeration, but...

you've always just had beef with Yanan for... not really any reason. he was cold to you when you first met him, ignoring you and being rude, teasing you and sometimes hurting your feelings with his jokes that went too far... so you're not fond of him.

Yanan has just always naturally felt the need to act that way around you, and he's not sure why. you're easy and fun to tease, and he likes seeing your reaction. it isn't fun for you, though, of course.

so, you wrote a script to get back at him for everything.

"so... i'm playing a dumb, clueness nerd and you're playing the smart popular person who is nice to me and helps me come out of my shell?" Yanan asks, pushing up his glasses.

"yes. i'm the hero of this story."

"of course you are. your ego is huge."

you sigh and push Yanan, telling him to stop fooling around and start reading the script aloud, already.

"okay, here i go," he says, clearing his throat.

he opens up one of your books that are laying around and acts like he's reading it. you nudge him, just like the script tells you to, and he looks up.

"not another person here to make fun of me for reading," Yanan mumbles with a pout.

you throw him a smile and pretend to lean in to see what he's reading. Yanan catches a whiff of your sweet scent and... why is the world spinning for him suddenly?

"ah, this book? i've read it before, it's so good!" you say.

"you... have read this?" Yanan asks.

you nod and pat Yanan's head. his scalp tingles at your touch.

"i know the class makes fun of you for reading, but don't listen to them. they're just picking on you because you're so pure and innocent. if anyone hurts you again, just come stand by my side, okay?" you say, grabbing his hand.

his heart skips a beat. or two. maybe three.

you let out a deep breath suddenly, letting go of his hand.

"damn, that was pretty good for a first run-through!" you say, smiling at Yanan and finally feeling like the two of you could get close.

"uh, yeah, but... i don't think i can do this anymore," Yanan mutters before standing up and leaving your dorm.

confused, you try to chase after him, to no avail. the hallways are empty and there's no sight of the tall, eye-candy (according to everyone) boy. you call and text him, but there's no reply.

he keeps up the silent treatment for days.

you get so worried that you try to find his dorm, and when you do, he won't open up no matter how much you knock and yell for him. it reaches a point where you get kicked out for being so loud in front of his dorm room.

you tell yourself you're only this worried because if he doesn't stop this then you'll fail your theatre assignment, but you're starting to feel like it's something else. is he eating well? is he sleeping? has he gone out for air? your mind thinks of questions like these and you can't focus on anything.

the day comes for you to present your theatre assignment, and Yanan isn't there. your heart hammers in your chest as one by one your classmates present and Yanan still hasn't showed up.

"[y/n] and Yanan?" your ta calls out.

you stand up, wondering how to tell your ta that Yanan isn't here, until someone calls out to you from the doorway of your classroom.

"[y/n]!" Yanan calls out, running towards you with a smile.

"Yanan?"

"let's present, and i'll explain later. i have everything memorized, so let's do this," he says, walking to the front.

you nervously trail along behind him, taking a few deep breaths before you start. it's just like that day in your dorm room, [y/n]...

applause.

you don't even know how you finished your presentation, but the applause snaps you out of your daze. hand in hand, you and Yanan bow before the class as the ta tells you that you'll receive your grade a week later.

after class, Yanan pulls you aside to have a word.

"[y/n], i'm sorry..." he starts.

"yeah, you better be! do you know how worried i was?" you say.

"you were... worried?" he asks, smirking slightly.

"uh-"

"but seriously, [y/n], i'm sorry. i was too preoccupied with myself and my own thoughts and i'm sorry about that... but i think i know now."

"you know?"

"that i like you," he says suddenly.

you look around and sigh in relief when no one's around.

"Yanan! you can't just say that."

"why? what's wrong with it? i like you, [y/n]," he says, even louder.

you lightly slap his shoulder and he giggles.

"but... why... do you like me all of a sudden?" you ask, and Yanan shakes his head.

"it's not sudden. i've always liked you," he says.

when you give him a confused expression, he smiles.

"i know.. i've treated you terribly. i think i was... kind of embarrassed of the way i felt and covered it up by teasing you, and i'm sorry about that," he explains.

"Yanan... how are you so honest?" you ask.

"because i reflected for 2 weeks about what to say to you?"

you laugh and Yanan laughs along, grateful for the release of tension.

"i... don't know what my answer is right now," you say, despite the fact that you feel like you're on cloud 9 and you're buzzing with energy.

Yanan nods, shifting in his spot.

"i'll wait for your for as long as you need. in the meantime... wanna go to a café with me or something? so i can make it up to you?"

"i doubt that'll be enough, but i'll gladly take you up on the offer," you say, following Yanan down the hallway.

#pentagon imagines #pentagon scenarios #yanan imagines #yanan fluff #pentagon fluff #yanan scenarios #yanan x reader #college!yanan #college!yanan x reader #ptg imagines #ptg scenarios #ptg fluff #ptg x reader #ptg au #ptg yanan #ptg yanan x reader #ptg yanan scenarios #ptg yanan fluff #pentagon yanan #pentagon #yanan #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff

[favoniuscodex]

Hello! Can i request a platonic about diluc and kaeya helping a lost child find their parents. I can totally see them arguing while comforting the crying child. Thank you!!!

a/n: hi!!! ty so much for the request!!! i tried my best to focus on how they would interact based on current canon status of the relationship between the two. sorry if this isn’t exactly what you envisioned, but i’m not the best at writing kids! i hope you like it, though :)))) title: diluc and kaeya are upstanding citizens of mondstadt (otherwise known as: diluc makes a kid cry) word count: 1.2k pairings: diluc & kaeya (platonic!!!!) warnings: mention of adult activities (as a joke, nothing explicit), spoilers for diluc and kaeya’s backstories (webtoon) and potentially for diluc’s hero quest?

Before we begin: I already feel bad for this hypothetical child

Diluc and Kaeya don’t really get along, but I can definitely see them encountering each other when Kaeya is ordered to go clear a camp of hilichurls near Dawn Winery. When he arrives, he spots Diluc speaking to a child nearby.

Alarm bells go off in Kaeya’s brain (Diluc with children? Something isn’t right.) He hasn’t been close with his brother since their father’s death, but Kaeya believes that he would at least know if Diluc had a kid.

As Kaeya sneaks closer to get a better look, he realizes Diluc’s expression is a pained one and the child, a young boy, is on the verge of tears. So, being a good and faithful (and a definitely not nosy) Knight of Favonius, Kaeya decides to intervene.

Because Kaeya is known for his charms (and isn’t Diluc), the child’s tears immediately begin to subside as the child begins to explain that he is lost and doesn’t know how to get back to his family in Springvale.

“I saw a Crystalfly,” the kid blubbers, running up to Kaeya and holding onto the Calvary Captain’s leg for dear life. “And I followed it here but then it flew up in the air and left and now I can’t get home and my mom’s gonna be mad at me if I miss dinner because she always tells me to be home before dark and I’m gonna get grounded and not be able to have any des-”

“He’s from Springvale,” Diluc states plainly, interrupting the boy’s rant. “He needs to be escorted home.”

Diluc’s blunt tone causes tears to arise in the kid’s eyes again, so Kaeya immediately offers to escort the boy home. It’s his duty as a Knight of Favonius to ensure that the people of Mondstadt are protected (and conveniently places a raincheck on the much more difficult tasks Kaeya has waiting for him back in Mondstadt).

However, much to Kaeya’s surprise (and Diluc’s own personal chagrin), Diluc insists on accompanying them as well. Diluc explains that there have been Abyss Mage sightings on the way from Dawn Winery to Springvale, therefore it would be safer for him to accompany the kid as well.

The young boy climbs up on Kaeya’s back, piggyback style, and the two brothers begin their forced family therapy session as they walk back to Springvale and they live happily ever after with all of their problems fixed.

Except… not quite. The three of them journey in silence as the young boy is lulled to sleep on Kaeya’s back, nestling his face into the soft white fluff of Kaeya’s uniform collar.

Kaeya is the first to break the silence. “Wow, Diluc, I can’t believe you almost made a kid cry.”

“As if you could do any better,” Diluc retorts with a huff, sending a glare at Kaeya out of the corner of his eye.

“I can do better and I have done better.” Kaeya states proudly, as he exaggeratingly shifts the boy’s weight on his back and gives Diluc a smug grin.

“I am not particularly fond of children, nor do I encounter them in my profession.” Diluc says.

“Really?” Kaeya feigns shock. “I never would have guessed, I thought children would be knocking down the doors of Angel’s Share for some dandelion wine.”

Diluc flashes a brief look of disgust in Kaeya’s direction and the conversation settles down for a while. Until, of course, Kaeya has the most brilliant idea of a new conversation starter.

“So, Diluc, when did you become a father?” Kaeya inquires, lacing his tone with false innocence. If Diluc didn’t know better, he would have believed Kaeya to be genuinely inquiring about his supposed family. However, Diluc is all too familiar with Kaeya’s antics, causing Diluc to let out a long sigh instead.

“Why would you ever think that child on your back is derived from my supposed irresponsibilities?” Diluc deadpans, refusing to look at Kaeya and continuing to trek towards Springvale.

Diluc alters his pace ever so slightly so he remains a few steps in front of Kaeya, not wanting to walk side-by-side with his adopted brother. Kaeya, however, spreads a shiteating grin on his own face and hurries his own pace to remain in step with Diluc.

“Why not? The kid only mentioned a mother. And, last time I checked, there’s two people involved in the process of making a baby,” Kaeya jests, his tone lilting in a playful manner.

“Last time I checked, I never asked for your inquiries,” Diluc responds, once again attempting to walk ahead of Kaeya.

“C’mon, Diluc. You really buy this kid’s story of wanting to catch a crystalfly? No, he was at Dawn Winery looking for you, his true father, but instead you made him cry,” Kaeya says, lacing his voice with indignation at Diluc’s supposed rejection of the child on Kaeya’s back, who looks nothing at all like Diluc.

“I am not that child’s father,” Diluc asserts, finally deciding to scowl over his shoulder in Kaeya’s direction. However, Diluc jumps ever so slightly when he realizes Kaeya is matching his pace and walking directly next to him. Kaeya’s exaggerated expression of abhorrence towards Diluc’s abandonment and rejection of his own child is still plastered on his face, but it quickly morphs back into a cocky smile as Kaeya notices Diluc’s surprise at Kaeya’s close proximity to the redhead.

“There is no way I am that child’s father,” Diluc insists, falling directly into Kaeya’s trap and beginning to get riled up. “I’ve never even been with a wo-”

Before Diluc can finish his words, Kaeya doubles over in laughter, waking up the sleeping kid on his back.

“You’ve never WHAT?!” Kaeya nearly screeches, almost dropping the child on his back as his body shakes from laughter.

Diluc’s face begins to flush the same shade as his hair. His lips press into a tight line as he realizes what he admitted to his brother. However, Diluc’s mortification at his own divulgence of this information to someone he hasn’t spoken to in years is interrupted when the boy on Kaeya’s back raises his head up to yawn and ask a question.

“Are we there y-” The boy begins, but his eyes widen as he spots the flickering flames of Springvale streetlamps up ahead. Clambering off Kaeya’s back, the boy excitedly tugs at Kaeya’s shirttail. “Up ahead! That’s my house!”

As Diluc and Kaeya arrive at the boy’s house, the boy excitedly hugs Kaeya as a thank you, before tentatively hugging Diluc for a brief moment. Diluc stiffens under the boy’s startling gesture, but makes no motion to end the hug.

“Thank you, Mr. Kaeya! Thank you, Mr. Diluc! When I grow up, I wanna be a knight, just like you guys!” The boy cheers, before turning around and running into his house.

Diluc opens his mouth ever so slightly to respond, but sighs instead. His thoughts are interrupted as Kaeya claps a hand on Diluc’s shoulder.

“Good work with the kid,” Kaeya says in a serious tone, before shifting into his usual banter. “And also, if you ever need help with the ladies, I can give you a few tips. After all, it’s only my duty as a knight to help my fellow Mondstadtians out.”

“Inefficient as always,” Diluc huffs under his breath, but Kaeya pretends not to hear it and simply smiles as Diluc begins to head back to Dawn Winery. Kaeya watches him for a few moments, before beginning to walk back to Mondstadt.

Y’know, I think that went pretty well! Kaeya thinks, while Diluc wonders why he didn’t just let his brother and the kid take their chances in walking back to Springvale alone.

#genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #diluc headcanons #kaeya headcanons #diluc scenarios #kaeya scenarios #*my writing #*platonic #*diluc #*kaeya #*headcanons