#i never asked to care for them in the first place

[writerpeach]

Fantastic Breasts and Where to Find Them

aespa Karina x m!reader

10k words

"What time is it?" Karina asks as she stumbles into the kitchen, a half awaken mess, dark locks all disheveled in a white top and tight shorts. "Jesus, my fucking head..."

"Nearly one." 

"Shit," Karina hisses. "I had a test in the morning, didn't you hear my alarm go off?"

"You think I can hear anything over you snoring?" you ask, glancing up with a playful smile as Karina sits opposite you at the kitchen table, resting her face in her palms. "You barely made it inside before I had to lug your body onto the couch.”

"Hey, I don't snore," Karina scoffs, giving you a dirty look with bleary eyes as she runs fingers through her messy hair in a feeble attempt to look presentable.

"Oh, of course you don't. Which is why I could hear you all the way upstairs. Pretty sure the entire neighborhood could." 

"Shut it," she snaps back with as much bite as she can muster, though can't keep that grimace on her features for long before a tired grin escapes. "The last thing I remember is Yizhuo holding my hair up while I—well, you don't need to know the rest."

“Sounds like you had a fun night.” 

"Fantastic," Karina responds with all the sarcasm she can manage. Her gaze immediately turns towards the coffee maker—the only thing that matters during this hellish hungover state. 

“Coffee should still be warm,” you say, not missing a beat. “But take this first, it'll help."

Karina eyes the two painkillers in your hand with a grateful look as she scoots forward and reaches to accept a glass of water, tossing her head back a bit before chugging it all a single gulp. 

"You're a lifesaver. I'm so embarrassing, you shouldn't have to keep taking care of me. Thank you," she says with a quick smile, gently placing the empty glass down, then heading straight for the coffeepot.

"Don't worry about it. It's what I'm here for."

"You should have been there last night then, maybe could have kept me in check. I'll never drink that much ever again."

Karina cradles a freshly poured mug of hot coffee as she makes her way back to the table, taking a seat ever so carefully, trying not to fall over in the process. She rubs her temple in gentle circles, feeling like absolute hell as she tests the coffee with a sip of uncertainty.

"You've said that the last couple times," you tease, leaning back in your chair as you focus back on your laptop screen and the paper that you’ve been working on all day. "You know that's not really my thing. As much as I enjoy watching other people make an idiot out of themselves."

"At least I could have had someone to talk to. The only person I knew was Yizhuo, and she was so busy making out with anyone with a pulse that I didn't say more than three words to her."

"Yizhuo?" you ask. 

"You've met her, haven't you? She's one of my best friends." 

"Don't think I have." 

"Right, well—she'll sleep with anyone that so much looks at her," Karina chuckles as she savors the delicious warmth of coffee down her throat. She takes another careful sip and her eyes close, wondering if the throbbing in her head will ever subside.

"She's learned from the best, I suppose."

"Hey!" she says, faux offense laced in her tone, placing down her mug. "Don't compare me to that slut. I've got standards at least."

"Really?"

“I'll have you know, I don't sleep with everyone,” Karina huffs, turning her face away to sip at her coffee some more, but you can't resist the urge to tease her even further in her current state. "Just a few lucky guys. Sometimes two at once. Or three. But nothing crazy, I'm not a slut."

"Wouldn't dare even think of using that word on you, Rina." 

"See, not like Yizhuo at all, not desperate and willing to suck and ride anything in sight. Besides, it's been like over a month since I've last gotten laid,” she says, out of nowhere. You let out a dry laugh, unable to believe your ears. It's strange, seeing Karina's pale skin so flustered, because clearly even she can’t buy that. 

“I’m serious!” 

"The walls say otherwise, you know. You're a terrible liar, Rina." From first hand experience, you know how thin these walls are—being able to overhear her muffled cries of ecstasy, every vulgar utterance from Karina's room, each time she sneaks home a stranger who has the absolute honor of getting to pound her senselessly. 

"W-what, I'm not!" Karina blurts out, face getting even redder, so frazzled with that thought. "That—you were probably just hearing all that porn you keep on your laptop. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about the weird, kinky shit you’re into.” 

Pausing for a moment, she gives an impish grin, so pleased with herself for trying to turn things around. You could call her bluff, but even better, you’ll come up with one of your own, something equally preposterous and absurd.

"Me? I don't even watch porn," you say somehow with a straight face, and it's such a ridiculous statement you can hardly finish getting the words out. Karina puts her mug down and brings her arms over her chest, letting out a small sigh before glaring across the table.

"Is that so? Now who's the terrible liar?"

"Believe what you want. This laptop is for school work only. Nothing else." 

"Didn't realize I was living with such a prude," Karina says, as a teasing grin slides along her features. "All those times I've brought home a guy to fuck my brains out—I guess I've been making you feel extra uncomfortable."

"No, not at all, Rina. I just focus on my studies instead of how loud I can hear you scream through the walls. Noise-cancelling headphones do wonders," you say, doing your best to keep a stoic expression on your face. But Karina isn't having any of your bullshit. Not when she's sitting across from you with a smug look and trying her damndest to get you to break this facade.

"Look," Karina sighs dramatically, turning her head to face you directly. "There’s no fooling me. You don't have to act like you don’t enjoy listening to me getting railed. And you'd be lying if you told me you've never been turned on from all that. Just admit you've touched yourself to the sounds of it, and we'll leave this alone."

"Can't say I've done that either."

"Stop—" Her brow arches in frustration, and she can't even hide the smile beginning to break along her lips. "I get it, you're a better liar than I thought. You don’t have to keep pretending."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You think you deserve an award for not laughing your ass off at this point, but it's an ongoing struggle to keep this going. The best part is that Karina is so insistent on it, completely unwilling to let this go until she gets you to admit that she's caught you.  

"Oh, come on, you've jerked off at least once or twice while listening to me, don't play dumb. Like you said, the walls are thin. I can hear when you're getting off too, you know."

"You've got a wild imagination, Karina. I've done nothing of the sort. The only thing I care about is getting a good night's sleep and graduating with honors."

"Fuck that, no one can study constantly. If it wasn't for me getting railed on the regular, I wouldn't even survive. I'd probably drop out and become a bartender or something. Getting dicked down does wonders."

"Everyone has their own ways of dealing with stress. Sex obviously isn't mine."

"Stop, you're such a fucking liar," Karina almost yells, frustration bubbling up as her arms cross even tighter, unable to stop the laughter that slips out. "There's no way that you're studying, what, seven days a week, without getting yourself off? Everyone has horny thoughts, especially guys. I know there are hot girls in your classes, there's no way you aren't fantasizing about them."

"I’m not. Too busy learning about the wonders of—" 

"Shut the fuck up," Karina snaps in the most exaggerated tone, leaning forward, trying her hardest to hide her smile and fight whatever antics you keep coming up with. The longer this goes on, the more she breaks out into giggles. It's rather amusing seeing her get worked up like this, the little scrunched face she pulls and the exasperation that oozes from every word, knowing you aren't telling the truth one bit.

"You're not that studious. I've lived with you long enough to know that you're not the nerdy type. I'm right, I know I've seen you come home late. Don't deny it!"

"There's a really nice coffee shop that's by campus open rather—" you begin to say, not exactly sure how you haven't broken down laughing by now.

"Don't you dare tell me you're studying at one in the morning instead of getting your head trapped between some pretty girl's thighs," she interrupts in an instant, gaze piercing right through you. And no longer can you keep a straight face for another second longer, looking away to stop from grinning. But that might be a mistake. As you happen to glance back, Karina gets up out of her seat, this devilish expression as she strides around the table towards you. "If you aren't gonna be honest—maybe I'll just have to get the truth out of you."

Before you can even react, Karina swipes up your laptop with lightning speed and slams the lid shut, not caring for anything else as she drops her weight in your lap. It takes you by surprise, and by now, she has to know how close you are to breaking, deciding to pull out all the stops to try to win her little game of bullshit. "Oh, so you've suddenly gone mute."

And Karina gets impossibly close, staring into your eyes, enough so you have no other option but to look directly in her deadly gaze. She wraps her arms around the back of your neck, resting her hands there, a smirk curling up her lips as she tries to break your resolve all at once.

The way she looks at you is unbelievably seductive, which might be the reason your heart beats faster, with how gorgeous she is up close. That confident little smirk refuses to leave her lips, the scent of her perfume strong in the air, making everything more difficult to endure. It's impossible for you to hide all your weaknesses. And even more impossible to stash your sudden shyness while Karina traces light patterns upon your neck as she lets out another giggle when you start avoiding her eye contact.

"You're cute when you're nervous," she says, that deep voice dripping with nothing but sin and seduction as she takes your chin, lifting you towards her. It's difficult to look away or hide, with her looking right into your eyes—a sharp, penetrative gaze that you can’t flee from, especially not when she gets this close, feeling her warm breath on your skin. 

“Tell me—where's that confidence from a few minutes ago gone? A pretty girl sitting on your lap is all it takes for you to break?" Karina purrs against the shell of your ear, lips hovering dangerously close. 

You stay silent, muscles all tensed up, breathing audibly and wanting nothing more than to pull away. And it only gets worse when her fingers run lightly through your hair, messing it up playfully as her breath lingers. "Hm? Still not talking? When did you ever get shy with me?"

Karina knows she's won.

As she presses up against your chest, drawing ever so slightly nearer, it's in that brief second when the warmth of her body against yours completely overwhelms you. There's no defense left against her little game of interrogation.

"Let's be real, I know you're jerking off every chance you get, especially when I have a dick inside me," she coos with the most angelic smile you've ever seen, eyes brimming with delight, her touch following the path of your body and taking pleasure in seeing all the little reactions she steals from you.

"But there's nothing wrong with that. Hell, I want you to. The thought of you stroking your cock with the image of me naked and getting fucked turns me on. Knowing my loud moans and screams are the perfect inspiration for your orgasm—that makes it all better, doesn't it?" Karina brushes her lips right into the crook of your neck as she whispers all these obscenities, making damn well sure you hear every single word.

You’ve completely frozen up. It’s not like you to be so demure, but also this isn’t like Karina. 

"Oh, you wish it was you, don't you?” Karina asks, memorizing every detail in your expression. ”Poor thing, being stuck as my roommate—having to deal with the fact you aren't fucking me from behind, playing with my tits, and smacking my ass hard until my cheeks sting." 

Seeing the clear frustration in your expression puts a smirk on her face again, experiencing the thrill of finally having the upper hand on you. Karina knows she has all the leverage, right here, right now. 

"I know you're not the least bit innocent. Not with the way you looked at me when you saw me in nothing but a towel, fresh out of the shower, my naked tits still wet. I bet that made you jerk off right away, didn't it?"

"R-rina—" You finally manage to utter out her name after some considerable struggle, at a complete loss for words. Because this isn’t at all how you expected this to go, but she's right about every single detail, and you find it harder and harder to deny it. 

"What is it, sweetie? Have something you wanna say? Wanna tell me the truth? That you fantasize about me all the time, don't you?" And Karina keeps leaning in closer, getting all the answers she wants before you can speak another word. 

"Y-yeah, I—"

"Use your words. You can do that for me, can't you? Tell me all the things you can't stop thinking about." 

"Fuck, Karina—it's the only thing I think about in the mornings. And at night. Every single day. Even when you haven't had anyone over in a while, I just think about fucking you, what that body looks like naked, how those huge tits would look bouncing in my face.” 

You’ve cracked. And there’s no going back now. 

"Go on, don't stop there, sweetheart. It's too late to be shy now." Karina smiles so pleasantly and cups your face to keep you from looking anywhere else, her tone immediately shifting. "Tell me you wanna fuck me. You want my tight pussy to swallow up your cock until I can't walk properly tomorrow. You've always wanted that, right?" 

"Y-yes, god yes, that's—that's what I want. Wanna bury myself deep inside you, squeeze those perfect tits and fuck you so hard until I unload everything inside."

"See how easy that was? Turns out you’re not very innocent after all, are you?" And Karina seals your confession with a deep kiss, drawing you into a rather warm, heated embrace as she nips at the bottom of your earlobe, giving it the lightest tease before letting go. 

"Let's give you everything you've ever wanted, sweetie." 

Karina tears herself from the kiss, just so she can run her tongue along your bottom lip and get another taste for herself. A slight pant, and she doesn't waste another minute getting rid of her shirt, exposing her bare skin and massive tits no fabric can contain. 

Your pants, they grow tighter in an instant. Those huge tits, the deep cleavage—they're nothing but hypnotic. Karina watches you stare with wonder for several long moments before unhooking her bra to get the entire picture. You swallow hard, eyes going wide as her breasts spill out from their restraints, pale and so fucking perfect, and god, you can't even think straight from how absolutely delicious they look.

Karina leans back to unveil her bare breasts in full view, and even the slightest movement makes them bounce gently. They're practically begging to be touched, and there's no hope of looking away. "Are they everything you ever imagined?"

A nod comes almost automatically in response, captivated by those enormous mounds with the prettiest nipples you've ever seen. Your roommate takes hold of your wrists and leads you to feel every last inch of her luscious pair, right where she knows your fingers want to go. 

"Go on, show me exactly what you've always dreamed about, sweetie." Hardly able to believe what’s happening, you take the plunge as you indulge, these tits soft and supple in the palm of your hands. The full weight of her breasts is everything, Karina exhaling a breathy whimper when you massage them with a perfect grip, lightly squeezing, testing their sensitivity. 

“You don't have to be gentle. You've wanted to play with these tits so bad, right? Don't hold back now,” Karina says with such a sweet voice. So you take her permission to heart, getting two full handfuls of creamy flesh to squeeze greedily and grope to your heart's desire. 

You’re practically speechless. Nothing could ever match the way they fill your hands when you knead them, fingers digging into all that flesh to press them together, only to release and have them bounce, this recoil that seems almost unreal. 

"God, these tits—they're fucking incredible, you know that?"

"Oh these? I’m sure all those times you'd peek down my top gave me a clue you’d love them. And you haven't even had them in your mouth yet," Karina says as she reaches for the back of your head. In an instant, she shoves your face right into the delicious valley of her pale breasts, suffocating you with all the softness and warmth of her plentiful chest provides. Her huge tits completely consume your vision, and there is no fighting the urge to lick a stripe down that cleavage to take in the first taste. 

It only gets better as she encourages you, tightening fingers in your hair when you run your tongue around her stiff little nub before closing your lips around it, capturing it to suck softly. A delightful shudder rocks her, gasping loudly, and Karina guides your movements, keeping your attention spread out across both breasts to ensure the other isn't getting left behind.

"Good boy," she hums with all the satisfaction in the world, gripping harder when she presses you back into her chest, helping you indulge in this buffet that's been laid out before you. "You’ve been waiting forever for a chance to suck on these tits, haven’t you?" 

You refuse to answer with words, replying instead with more frantic sucking, the nipple between your greedy lips growing wetter and wetter. But your free hand stays occupied, as you squeeze the other breast not in your mouth not so gently, sinking into the softness even further. Hungrily, you move between them, feasting on those divine tits to satiate all of your desires, and you’ll suck on them forever if she'll let you. 

There's no better treat than the way she feels in your palms and all over your lips. Not now—not while all this lust floods your veins. Not while she whimpers, your actions gaining speed, faster and faster to keep Karina's sensitive nipples trapped in your lips and suck harder. She lets out her moans, a gorgeous sound that echoes, and you can feel every vibrating sound rippling through her ample chest.

"Jesus, your mouth is amazing," she breathes through all the gasps and the moans, all those noises a pure sign of encouragement that drives you forward, until you need a moment to draw a desperate breath. It doesn't stop there. You resume immediately, introducing a bit of teeth to nibble down into the smooth, pink buds, because like you've been told, there's no need to be gentle. Not when Karina clearly prefers it like that, tugging a fistful of your hair, hoping you'll get the message to apply just a little bit more pressure.

All of this attention you're giving her gets Karina nice and bothered, mouth hanging open as she pants to control her breathing. You could stay here forever, happily settled with a pair of tits stuffed into your mouth. Maybe she lets you. Maybe you spend an eternity exploring that delicious rack, because it can never truly satisfy your craving for them.

"Mmm, feels so fucking good," is how she answers your teeth dragging across those wet nipples, whining when it suddenly leaves, depriving her of your lips just you can stare longingly at the swell of her heavy breasts once again.

You have to admire your work on her sensitive breasts when you pull back, swimming in bliss as you see the sight of them glistening with your saliva, nipples so visibly hard and drenched now. There's no denying how much you love having Karina's huge tits all to yourself, how you just want to drown in all this soft, pale flesh. 

"Don’t tell me you’re done already?" Karina asks, disappointment in her tone while she strokes the back of your head. "I can feel how fucking hard that cock of yours is from just sucking on my tits…"

Once again, you have no response, still lost in a fog of lust as you squeeze those supple mounds, giving another tender lick to those nipples covered in spit to get the smallest gasp from her lips. "I could play with your big fucking tits all day.” 

Karina giggles, content to let you do just that. "Well, you've earned that, sweetheart. But I think we should move this to the bedroom, so we can get more comfortable, and maybe you can get me out of these clothes?” 

"Yeah—right, bedroom," you repeat, distracted by how tantalizing her perfect tits look still soaked with your spit. She laughs and offers up a hand to help pull you to your feet, taking the chance to sneak another kiss before you get too far apart.

You’re dragged along up to her room, left to gawk over her body as you follow obediently. Those shorts are just a bit too tight to hide any details of her curvy ass, which sways rhythmically with every last step. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, Karina pulls you right into another embrace, a hot and needy kiss, your hands finding their place on her slender waist you plan to become familiar with. 

"Get me naked like you've always fantasized," Karina says the instant your lips separate, heading towards the bed without waiting for your response. You don't have to be told twice, too eager to find out how the rest of her body compares as she bends over, placing her hands on the sheets. 

The scene in front of you sends a rush of anticipation, and immediately, you reach for those ridiculously tight shorts, pausing a moment only to feel just how firm Karina's butt is under them. This all feels like a dream, one that you hope stays a reality as your eyes aimlessly wander all over this flawless skin. 

Her huge breasts push into the mattress, so soft and inviting, fighting for your attention from that backside, and this is already so overwhelming, before you’ve even seen what’s underneath here. 

"Taking your sweet time, hm?" she teases, rolling her hips ever so slightly, hoping to hurry your pace, a hint you gladly take without an ounce of hesitation. Undoing her zipper takes only seconds, and Karina's smooth, pale thighs become more exposed as you gradually peel her shorts down inch by inch. The curve of her ass nearly spills out from the pink thong you've seen for the first time, and this sight is almost as breathtaking as her massive chest.

"Only get to do this for the first time once." 

“You poor thing. Guess I can’t blame you.” Slipping out of her shorts with ease, Karina makes them drop to the floor where they can be easily forgotten. You're left frozen in awe at the perfection of her full, plump ass that looks far too good in this thong, and those creamy thighs that must feel like heaven wrapped around your head. 

"Come on, take my panties off too. You want a full view of this all, don't you?" Once you're done admiring her shapely ass, Karina turns her gaze over her shoulder, that smile far too much to deny. And as much as you want to keep staring, your hands already move on their own, desperate to finish what you've started.

Running your fingertips under the waistband, you tug that thin fabric right off, to reveal the fullness of those scrumptious cheeks and that pink, glistening pussy that looks too mouthwatering to resist. 

Now it all comes together. 

Karina is flawless, every deadly curve, every inch of milky white skin exposed, giving you yet another reason to stare at that sinful figure. There's no fighting the urge to squeeze what your fingers can sink into, taking a nice handful of her shapely rear that you can’t take your eyes off. It's an addiction without a cure, groping those juicy cheeks that are the definition of perfection, and you can't decide which part of her you want to worship the most. 

"Such a pervert," Karina giggles, and this time you can’t say you disagree with that. 

"Never said I wasn't." There's no point in denying what she clearly already knows, not when you can't look anywhere else. Not after being denied the privilege of her body until this moment—you've got some time to make up. 

"The first time you've seen me naked and all you can do is stare?" Karina quirks an eyebrow, putting her hand on her hips, to display that body deserving of all the praise you can give her. She closes the distance between the two of you in just a few short steps, grabbing hold of the collar on your shirt. "How about you show me something too while you're drooling?"

There's no hesitation on your end, knowing what’s expected as you pull your shirt over your head and drop it on the ground to join her clothes. Karina runs a fingertip along your bare chest, an approving smile spreading over her lips while her eyes glance over you carefully, this newfound hunger in her eyes. 

"Much better," she says, and now you're the one who's being gawked at, shirtless, under the gaze of your undeniably stunning roommate who can't help herself from exploring your body. You can’t say you don’t mind the attention at all. 

She traces the outline of your biceps, grazing along your shoulders, then down to your abdomen, leaving a faint, teasing touch to test the reaction she receives. And then, with no warning, those fingers move lower to palm your growing bulge so blatantly straining through your pants. 

"You're so fucking hard, it must be painful. But this time, I can help you with that. What do you wanna do with me, sweetheart?"

Where do you even start? Never did you expect to be caught in a moment like this, your roommate fully naked, stroking her hand along the length of your clothed cock, ready to finally do something about this pent-up tension she's caused. The possibilities are endless—but when Karina is looking at you like this, her fingers making your cock throb, waiting for you to choose, it's hard to think straight. 

"Can't decide? I don't blame you. But don't worry—I know just what we can start with." You don't have time to guess as Karina takes the lead and pushes you back towards her bed, patting the mattress. "Be a good boy and sit here, and I’ll take care of you."

Karina drops to her knees ever so slowly and licks her lips. Before you realize what's going on, she's pulling down your pants, boxers falling shortly after, and now she can see exactly what you were hiding underneath, this hard shaft that's been desperate to spring loose.

"Oh my god, your cock—it's gorgeous, sweetie," Karina gasps, staring right at your stiff shaft twitching impatiently just for her. 

There's barely a chance to process everything happening before she reaches forward, running a curious finger up the underside of your cock and watching the resulting shudder. Those pretty fingers wrap around your aching length, and Karina smiles up at you with pure delight in her eyes as she jerks your cock slowly, discovering all these new reactions you make. 

"Karina," you gasp out, almost choking, a shiver running down your spine at that light stroke—almost too fleeting for it to bring any pleasure. She repeats, with more enthusiasm, tightening her grip and using the clear liquid that leaks out to aid the movement of her fingers.

"Look at you, so fucking hard, throbbing so much for me. You like that? My hand wrapped around your cock?"

Karina has this look on her face that has no business being that damn innocent, not with those fingers squeezing you just right, or those huge breasts that shake ever so slightly with each pump of her fist. When she begins to pick up the pace, working you faster, twisting her hand up and down the length of your hard shaft, the urge to do anything but moan becomes near impossible. “You really do, don’t you? Well then, how about this—“

A string of spit falls onto your cock, smearing over her palm to slicken your shaft. She leans down to part her lips, hot breath hitting your shaft for the first time as she takes the entire head in her mouth and starts to gently suck, tongue working right behind. 

"Shit, oh my god, Karina—“ 

She’s got you in her sights, and there's nothing to do but surrender completely to the pleasure, eyes locked with her as she keeps those lips sealed tight, the wet warmth of her mouth engulfing you little by little. Karina's response comes in an instant, bobbing her head, slurping down on your shaft so greedily, showing all the appreciation you’ve earned. 

It's when her gaze flickers upwards to see your expression that it really becomes the death of you—the sight of her staring, with her round doe eyes, sucking and lapping around your shaft so eagerly is just too much to take. And if that wasn’t enough, her cheeks hollow out, every long pass making the view even better—this filthy slurping and sucking as her drool starts to run down your shaft, spilling from the corner of her lips to create the perfect picture. 

It's messy and wet, the sounds that accompany this sloppy blowjob only adding to the heat that's building. Her tongue doesn't stay dormant, sliding up and down and flicking around your swollen cockhead as she tastes what her lips aren't currently around. 

"Your mouth, god, your mouth feels fucking incredible—" is about all you can gasp. 

"Did you expect anything else?" Karina asks as she takes more of your cock, swallowing deep down without warning, bobbing faster and going just a little further to see how many inches you can handle down her throat. 

Her mouth feels like heaven, so slick and warm, with those luscious lips wrapped so tightly around your throbbing cock. A steady back and forth rhythm keeps up to take more, over and over, until every inch is nestled firmly into the tight grip of her throat. “I've been missing out on sucking this beautiful cock of yours—mmph."

Her mouth only gets messier as she slurps and swallows you down, resting her palms on your bare thighs, taking down your length with far more vigor than you could hope for. This blowjob is effortless on her end, a routine, and Karina doesn't pause to catch her breath or rest her throat—she’s driven, determined to keep her spell on you, without a moment where she even looks close to gagging. 

"How does that mouth feel on your cock, sweetie?" Karina asks. The words come so easy between slurps and sucks on your aching shaft, getting wetter from all the slick saliva that helps keep you buried down her throat. 

"So fucking good," you groan, tilting your head back, and there isn't anything else you could think of to properly praise this work. That's all Karina wants to hear.

"Then let me make you feel even better,” she tells you, flashing a wicked smile with a gleam in her eye that has your cock pulsing hard between her lips. Before you can question a thing, her mouth releases your slick cock, taking these lazy strokes to keep you nice and stiff. There’s a moment where nearly nothing happens, aside from her staring and pumping your cock. The silence lingers. Until finally, she takes your cock, hard as can be—

Karina guides it directly between her enormous breasts. You can hardly breathe, much less speak, and your jaw practically drops when you feel the soft flesh of her massive chest wrapped snugly around your shaft. Her hands come together, fingers interlocking, pressing those tits tighter against your length and that devilish smirk returns as she looks down at the surprise and joy in your expression.

And you can hardly believe the sight when she begins to rock her chest, trapping you between her tits with no chance to escape. The friction picks up, sliding the entire length of your cock with no intention of slowing down or stopping, and Karina stares right into your eyes, admiring the pleasure written all over your features to make sure you commit this to memory. 

With her tits wrapped so perfectly around your cock, you won’t last long. But that doesn’t matter. You’ll enjoy every second. Every delicate squeeze, every lingering moment her fingers massage the base of your needy, throbbing shaft. And when she spits between her deep cleavage to make the friction even better, a slicker mess for your cock to slide between, that’s how you start to lose it. 

“Jesus, Karina—feels so fucking good, oh my god.” It took so long getting used to the blissful suction from that pretty mouth, but this? There isn't any way to survive these full breasts that keep your entire length enveloped in such perfect warmth.

“Does it? Love how good your cock looks between my big tits." 

You can’t disagree one bit, because it looks almost as good as it feels. There's no describing how euphoric it all is, the way your shaft vanishes into that perfect valley of pale flesh with Karina squeezing firmly, grinding her chest up and down to let the slippery friction of her soft breasts coax those dizzying groans out of your mouth. "You love fucking my tits, don't you, sweetie?"

"Yeah—so much, this is just, fuck,” you moan, nearly collapsing back against the sheets at the intense sensations that jolt through your body. 

But Karina doesn't give you a chance to relax, quickening her pace, making your whole shaft throb with need as you continue to watch that massive pair of breasts move and bounce atop your shaft. She's loving this as much as you are, dragging out all these desperate moans that beg for more.

"Look how needy you sound—all because you get to fuck these huge tits," Karina teases you, grinding her upper body harder, massaging your achingly hard cock that looks devastatingly good sandwiched between her breasts like that. Your mouth stays open, but no words spill out, leaving room for more groans and she doesn't hesitate to keep that pleasure building and building with such intensity.

You know this can't last forever, but despite that, you're savoring this mind-numbing pleasure, doing what you can not to succumb and explode too soon. These tits are so soft, so warm, and you're throbbing so much from the friction alone, trying to delay the inevitable when your cock disappears and reappears between Karina's abundant cleavage. 

"Can't take much more—"

Karina smiles, smug and devious all at the same time as she doesn't bother to ease up, your stiff shaft begging to release all over those perfect breasts. There's not another moment to delay this endless bliss driving you mad, your balls tight and throbbing for an orgasm you can't ignore. "Are you going to cum, sweetie? Ready to make a huge fucking mess all over my tits?"

You're practically delirious, finding it harder to breathe, the weakest nod all you can give. But Karina can tell how close you are by how your cock endlessly throbs and leaks. She shifts forward again, squeezing as tight as possible, bringing you closer and closer to a long overdue release. All this delicious friction is too much, bringing that pleasure to the very edge, and when you look down at her again and share the next glance, the encouraging look in her eyes is the last thing that sets you off. 

"Be a good boy and cum for me. Cum all over these tits like you've always wanted to." 

That's all it takes. 

Your whole body tenses and stiffens as your climax swells up and hits you hard. With your cock nestled between her tits, you can see everything as the first blast of sticky, white cum fires up and explodes all over her pale skin, groaning with every spurt that splashes across her breasts and neck, one heavy, thick stream after another that leaves you shaking. 

Karina doesn't cease for one instant, her tits snugly pressed together as you fill up her cleavage with hot cum, keeping this explosive orgasm going strong. Her full lips part with surprise as your load leaves such a mess, this heavy warmth clinging all over her exposed skin, coating her deep cleavage nicely with that sticky sheen. Her breasts make you cum harder than you think you ever have. 

And even when it's all over, your load dripping down and oozing out between her huge tits, they stay where they are, squeezing it all out so she can ensure nothing gets wasted. Only when Karina is satisfied that you've been properly drained, your breath all heavy and weak, does she ease off, freeing your cock from her cleavage just to rub your sensitive tip against her hardened nipples to smear the warm mess you made. 

"Such a huge, thick load for me. You needed that so badly, right? Didn’t it feel so good to get it all out over my perfect tits?"

Words fail you, only able to muster a weak tilt of your head as you lean back, spent completely, eyes focused on the glistening mess on Karina's chest, all this cum that she wears proudly to put on a little show to display your work.

"Did I make you cum too hard for you to talk, sweetie? You poor thing, how long has it been since someone got you off like this?"

"D-dunno," you say breathlessly, watching her hand continue to work up and down your drained shaft, still twitching desperately, needing every second of her attention. "Can't remember—far too long."

"Oh baby, that's no good—this beautiful cock should always be given attention." There's no denying how right she is about that, but before you can even muster a sound in response, Karina is gripping your cock a little tighter in her hand to keep it rigid. While you stare at those beautiful, cum-covered breasts, the lust has hardly faded. "Think you can handle going again? Or does your cock need a little more time to rest?"

There's only one possible answer. As sensitive and sore as your cock might be after shooting a load all over those fabulous tits, your hardness makes its intentions clear when it pulsates with need in her hand. You'd be disappointed if you stopped now. 

"Need more. Need to be inside you, please," you respond, borderline pleading to finally feel what Karina's heavenly pussy feels like—how tight that immaculate grip must be. 

“Thought so. But there's no need to beg, sweetheart—now why don't you lie on the bed so I can ride your cock?"

You’ve never heard a more beautiful set of words. 

There's no second thought or hesitation. Karina is every bit willing to fulfill all your desires as you climb onto the bed and get comfy on the sheets. She crawls over on her hands and knees, but doesn't settle right into your lap. Instead, she presses her warm body atop your own, your naked flesh crashing together, those heavy breasts squashed tightly up against your bare chest as her lips find your own.

Her skin is so soft when you caress it, and the kisses come so abruptly, as does the hand that snakes down to lazily stroke your cock while she's busy letting her sweet taste linger on your lips.

"Tell me whenever you're ready, and I’ll take you inside me. This is just a nice little warmup," Karina promises in such a dulcet tone that you're tempted to respond immediately—but honestly, you don't know if you'll ever be ready for what she has in store. 

So you lie there, surrendering to those lips, and let yourself revel in this delightful warmth she presses against you. It's the kind of lackadaisical make-out session that could never end, with no urgent need to rush. Her kisses are slow and steady, lips claiming yours with the same care and attention her fingers give your stiff shaft, jerking you off at a deliberate pace that makes you leak more and more for her.

"Rina—" 

"Yes, baby? What do you need?" Karina responds as she pulls her face away, waiting for that answer, but doesn't dare stop pumping your needy, achingly hard shaft in her delicate fingers. "Need to be inside me, sweetie? Do you wanna know how good my pussy feels?"

"So badly, yeah," you answer with haste, nearly stuttering over the words as Karina pushes herself into a full mount to straddle your lap. She swings her thighs on either side of you, all spread out so you can get a teasing glimpse of her pussy while she gazes down at you with a sweet smile, your shaft aching against your abdomen. 

"Tell me exactly what you need. Wanna hear it from you, sweetie. Don't get shy on me now."

"Want you to fuck me—wanna be deep inside that beautiful pussy, want you to ride me until you cum. Please." The words  tumble right out, and it's all so embarrassing, but that's exactly what she wanted, isn't it? 

Karina takes your acceptance on her offer with a beaming smile, reaching behind her to grab your aching cock in her palm, keeping a firm grip as she positions herself to guide you inside. The anticipation hits its peak when she lifts her wide hips up, bringing you right against the warm entrance of her slick pussy. 

"Don't you worry. I'll ride you until we both cum." 

Before your next breath, Karina lowers herself—a slow descent onto your cock that spreads her pussy lips apart, sinking into that soaked, wet heat inch after inch. You're coated with all this slickness, and that tight cunt squeezes so goddamn hard as she works you deeper, breath shaky when you hit the deepest parts of her.

"Fuck—it's so big," Karina curses, shifting in your lap for the briefest pause to adjust, bracing herself to take more. “You still with me, sweetie? You’ve gone quiet again.” 

"How can I say anything, when your pussy feels this tight and incredible?"

Karina just laughs. The moment her hips lower again, she’s already in motion, gyrating on you, adjusting to the tight fit. There's no time to process it all, with that hot cunt sliding up and down your length. She doesn't tease, and her movements aren’t the least bit gradual, just the rapid rise and fall of her body.

“You fill me up so nicely, sweetheart,” Karina says, the praise sending you over the moon as she rests her hands on your chest for support.

It's every bit as mind blowing as you'd hoped it would be. Her wetness makes for an effortless movement of her hips, keeping a steady pace right off the bat that leaves you helpless beneath her. "Does that feel good? Do you like how my wet little pussy grips your big cock?"

You want to reply, but that pussy is so perfect, wet and warm all over your aching length. So all that leaves your lips is a strangled moan that has Karina lifting her hips up with more ferocity. You don't dare close your eyes for one instant as she rides you with that sinfully tight cunt, your shaft vanishing inside her slick entrance, over and over. 

Nothing surpasses this—to see Karina so beautiful on top, those luscious tits bouncing whenever she drops back down to fill herself up with your hard cock, only to ride up again and leave you gasping.

"Fuck, love being inside you," you say, trying your best to speak, but it's a challenge when her cunt gets tighter after each wild plunge. Those heavy tits move in motion with her hips, and the sight of her alone has you groaning as she gives it her all, relentless on that cock. "Can't believe how good your pussy feels, fuck—"

"Yeah? You like how I ride you? How I take your thick cock all the way in with ease?" she says, drawing you right back in. 

Karina doesn't stop. The pace gets faster with each drop down on your shaft. It's more than you can handle, watching that perfect body move so effortlessly as she takes you balls deep to make you groan beneath her, so utterly drenched and tight around you. 

You can’t take your eyes off her jiggling chest, how hypnotic the bounces of those breasts get, and this is the perfect chance to take them in your hands once more, squeezing and groping the flesh while Karina fucks herself harder on your cock.

"There you go, play with those fucking tits—squeeze them, smack them, do whatever you'd like." Karina gives the offer, and your fingers are already moving to obey, grabbing a perfect handful of those supple tits that can't even be contained in your palms. 

It's the distraction you desperately need, and the first slap to one of her pale breasts comes so quickly, the pliant skin rippling so nicely under the impact of your hand.

"Fuck, again—slap those fucking tits, baby, just like that," Karina demands, and who are you to deny her? There's not a thing to hold you back, taking turns to slap those wonderful breasts with enough force that they bounce against each strike, and they get so red under your fingers. Each slap gets harsher than the last, earning the best response from her—a tightening grip around your hard cock and loud whimpers whenever your palm makes contact with that supple flesh, turning her creamy skin a darker shade.

All this treatment leaves your cock dripping wet with Karina's slick juices, every part of you soaked as she keeps bouncing her gorgeous body atop your stiff length.

Her mouth stays open to voice her satisfaction with needy gasps and groans, every inch of her pussy stretched around your girth, keeping you deep. Those continuous smacks against her jiggling tits elicit the sweetest whines, reddened so beautifully from all this attention. 

Karina loves it all. So needy for your touch, for this sweet punishment she takes with all the desperation as you smack her tits while she rides your cock. Her movements, they’re hard to handle, hips slamming hard against you as that plump ass bounces on your cock, picking up all this speed. Fucking you harder and harder, those heavy tits never cease bouncing wildly, smacking together when you give a respite to let the sting linger. 

"Fucking love your cock inside me, sweetie—love it so fucking much," she tells you, hips rolling faster to keep the pace going strong, all this wetness and heat smothering you. 

And now you're content to just lie back, taking in the view while Karina rides you, how she takes every inch of your throbbing shaft like it belongs inside her. She keeps a perfect rhythm that buries your cock inside her tight pussy with every impale, so wet and slick when she brings those hips back up to start the entire process again.

"Gonna fucking cum, baby. Gonna fucking cum all over this hard cock. Can you last long enough?" Karina asks with a coy little smirk, not faltering for even an instant as she keeps fucking you, tight pussy clinging so harshly around your length. And to be honest, you don't even know yourself—but Karina seems determined to drain your balls, even if it has you finishing way sooner than you’d like. 

"D-dunno," you answer, knowing that with your hands on her body and those bouncing breasts so mesmerizing, there's only so long before you're pushing past the point of no return. "Probably not—"

Karina lets out a giggle in response that gets ripped right out when she takes you so unbelievably deep, all of your thick cock filling her up in the right way. She's so fucking tight, pale skin glistening with sweat in the light, adding to the view that could get you off from just the sight of her devilish body. "That's okay, sweetie. This cock feels too fucking good to stop."

The next few breaths are all a blur as this becomes a race to the finish. Your eyes stay glued to Karina, unable to look away as her hips move on autopilot. Amidst each movement, she moves quicker with every passing moment, that delicious wetness sliding along your hard length, bouncing her ass each time those thighs slam down on you. The bed squeaks and shakes beneath the constant, rhythmic impact, and you know this can only end one way—

"Shit, sweetheart, gonna fucking cum all over that dick, oh my god—" Karina falls over the edge first, and that cunt grips harder than ever like a vice, nearly unbearable, overflowing with arousal while she quivers above you. Her lips fall open as she looks down with half-lidded eyes, fingernails digging straight into your chest when it hits, every whimpering cry a lovely symphony for you to listen, to watch as it all happens, clinging for dear life while she climaxes so fucking hard all over your cock.

It's incredible, to see the way she loses herself completely to the pleasure, the mess that drowns your shaft while her tight pussy keeps spasming with every gush, and you have to grit your teeth to hold everything at bay. 

“You wanna cum in me, sweetie?" she asks, through ragged breaths, a proud look shining through the bliss on her face, still riding that intense high. 

A question like that only has one answer. 

"Y-yeah, so badly—wanna fucking fill you up," you say, with all the confidence you've ever had. Pushing herself into overdrive, Karina fucks you as fast as her body allows, this mindless, relentless motion of those hips that drives you to the very edge, those big tits bouncing wildly until there's no chance you'll hold back—not a second longer.

And then you fucking spill. You seize her body and keep those hips pinned in place, buried to the hilt as your cock pulsates and throbs inside her warm cunt. Everything fires all at once, flooding right into Karina, thick spurt after thick spurt as she watches the pleasure overtake you. Her walls clench down to milk it straight out of your throbbing shaft as your moans pour out, making sure this huge mess goes where it belongs while you pump her full of cum.

It feels like it’ll never end—so unbelievably overwhelming, your balls emptying right inside Karina, the relief of getting to blow your load inside her for the first time that keeps getting better and better. All your hot seed unloads into her warm pussy, filling her to the brim, and her euphoric gaze help your intense climax linger by the second. 

And when there’s nothing left in your balls, Karina still wears that blissed-out smile as she remains right on your shaft, the weight of her body coming to rest against yours. She weakly runs her slender fingers through your hair and kisses you tenderly, both sharing this moment of pure euphoria.

"Good boy..."

The weight of those words, they nearly make you blow again. 

Karina plays with your hair as she takes those sloppy, lazy kisses, with your spent shaft still nestled deep inside her dripping cunt. You don't dare move, or do anything else. She seems quite content to just stay there motionless, your bodies pressed so closely together as your cock stays warm in her pussy. "Didn't think you had that much left in you, sweetie. Fucked it right out of you, huh?" 

You're much too exhausted to respond, so instead you just lean in for more, letting those lips do what they do best, savoring the taste, the bliss, and all this sweat on your body and hers. 

It's in that moment the realization hits that your relationship has shifted. No longer do you have to listen to Karina get railed through the walls—because it's you who's in her bed now, naked, covered in sweat, with your cum deep inside her, and her lips feel so good on your bare skin that you don’t ever want to leave this position. 

"So—” she says, and her voice hardly sounds out of breath in comparison. “Do you wanna shower first or—do you wanna just go again?“ 

It's the most absurd thing to hear—as if she didn't just drain you, the evidence still deep between her legs. 

“Both."

Not the answer Karina was expecting, but one that leaves her more than pleased as she presses another kiss to your cheek before finally climbing off you. A few careful steps later and she makes her way across the room, your cum slowly trickling down her thighs. Not stopping to clean any of it, she just lets your load drip out as she saunters into the bathroom and leaves the door wide open. 

"Don't keep me waiting, sweetie."

✦ ✦

When you next get wrapped up in these sheets, it’s the exact same picture. But you’re the one on top, lips wandering all over Karina, fingers interlocked while she gets all giggly between kisses. The sweat is still there, and so are the handprints, but this time in a different location, imprinted all over her pale buttcheeks. 

And now you’ve learned that the view from behind is almost as impeccable as it is from the front, to see Karina bent over, those ridiculous breasts bouncing freely like there's no controlling them while you ram into her wet pussy. And then you cum, hard—inside her, of course, because how could you not when you’ve got both of her jiggly tits in your palms, squeezing that magnificent pair as you unload right into her pussy. 

With Karina, there’s no such thing as too much, or too often—not with that body. You make her cum on your face twice, and then she returns the favor moments after. This time, it’s all over her face, absolutely covering her, that fucking picture-perfect face that makes it seem like Karina isn’t real. But she is—and the way she smiles as your cum drips down her gorgeous features proves it.

No longer do you go to bed horny, but exhausted, with Karina lying beside you. Your own bed becomes neglected as your days and nights become spent in her room, listening to her fall asleep, head resting on those perfect breasts that put any other pillows to shame. 

Your mornings start with Karina, greeting her with your head buried between her creamy thighs while the coffee gets brewed. But she doesn’t need you to look after her when her head spins, because she doesn’t get as hungover anymore, with no reason to get drunk off her ass when she has you to help take the edge off whenever she needs it. 

It isn’t a relationship by title, but you certainly have all the benefits, the biggest one being your cum coating those big tits as often as it gets inside her pussy—

“Fuck me again,” she breathes in your ear one morning, seconds after you just finished all over her chest, your cock still painfully hard in between them. You’ve got your hands all over her messy tits when she asks it, fondling the soft flesh slick with cum, making shallow pumps between her deep cleavage, but her greedy little pussy calls to you. 

But before you slip out—a loud knock on the door interrupts out of nowhere. 

"Were you expecting someone?" you ask Karina, but her eyes tell you she's just as confused, face covered with sweat and her hair all disheveled from this hot and heavy session.

"No, I wasn't. Were you?" she asks in return, and neither of you pay it any attention. But the knocks continue, more urgent, more frequent. You don't think it's the neighbors coming to complain—that wouldn't happen this early, and you're mostly surrounded by other students and college grads anyway. "Ugh. Just ignore it. We can continue fucking—"

And that's what you both plan to do. It isn't until the knocks turn into full on bangs that Karina sighs and gives up. "God, fuck. This better be important."

You can see the anger and annoyance written all over her face.

Karina doesn't bother to throw a towel over herself before heading to the door in all her glory, naked and beautiful, still covered in your load, all the sticky, white mess dripping down her chest that she couldn't possibly clean in time before the door swings wide open—

Yizhuo.

It's fucking Yizhuo. Standing there at the doorstep. And there's Karina, all naked, and Yizhuo seems completely unfazed to see her without a shred of clothes.

"Hey," Yizhuo says casually, like this isn't the weirdest thing she could have seen standing in front of her. "Do you usually answer the door naked like this? Was there a fire?"

"When you won't fucking stop knocking and interrupting, yeah. What is it?"Karina sounds so angry that Yizhuo is almost taken back, and you just watch from a distance after slipping your boxers back on. 

"Well, I haven't heard from you in a while. Came to check how you're doing, you haven't shown up at any of the parties lately. Wanted to make sure you're still alive. You could have sent a message if you're too fucking busy to talk—"

"What? I'm not—sorry, I've had a lot of assignments, and—you know," Karina hesitates, stuttering to explain her absence to Yizhuo. She looks at you as if to plead for some support. "I-I'm...fine. Totally fine."

"Assignments, yeah, that's what it looks like you were busy with. Explains why you're all naked and sweaty," Yizhuo says, almost mockingly. But Karina just bites her lip and frantically waves you over.

"What the fuck were you knocking so loudly this early for, then?" 

"To make sure you weren't dead! That's it," Yizhuo retorts, and it's all too funny how this is turning out. Karina isn't even ashamed to have been caught—even more so when you stand at her side, half naked and covered with sweat, just like her. 

"Oh. Hi there, you must be Karina's new boyfrie—"

"He's my roommate!"

Yizhuo raises a brow at that, as if to challenge the excuse. "You have a roommate?"

"He moved in last year," Karina clarifies, with an exasperated sigh. But that isn't what Yizhuo cares about right now, or what she even wants to know—

"And you fuck him?"

"Yizhuo!"

"That's not a no. He's cuter than the last guy I saw you with. Does he have a name?" Yizhuo asks, turning to you instead, and she's all grins as you finally step forward to meet her. "You got a name, or is that only reserved for Karina to scream?"

"Okay, time to leave, you've seen enough."

Karina's more embarrassed than offended. And Yizhuo seems all too amused, but you don't miss that lingering gaze when she gives you a quick scan up and down, admiring all of you—from your bare chest down to your boxers. "Well, I'll let you two get back to fucking—"

"Alright! Time for you to go—have a good day, and text me if you want to meet up, yeah? We'll get something to eat, or have a coffee."

And just like that, the door closes shut behind her, and you can't help but laugh as Karina sighs in defeat and collapses onto the wooden frame. 

"So, that's Yizhuo—" you say, trying to keep it together, but she glares back at you as if it's all your fault that this happened.

"Don't," she mutters. "Not a word, sweetie." 

"She's cute, too."

"What? Oh my god, seriously, do not—" Karina protests, but she just rolls her eyes and gives this faux look of annoyance as she pulls you closer. "Do you wanna fuck her too?" 

"I didn't say that," you reply, and without even getting a chance to explain yourself Karina silences you with her lips. It's all tongue and teeth and it's so damn sloppy that it takes a while before either of you can get another word in.

"You can fuck her if you want. I don't mind. If you think she's cute, that is. Go and fuck her. You have my blessing."

You laugh, still finding all this absurd "I don't—Karina, that's not what I meant. It's fine. I like what I have." 

"And what is that?" Karina ponders, peppering your face with kisses.

"A hot roommate with amazing tits that lets me cum inside her everyday,” you blurt out, and Karina just turns beet red from embarrassment. 

"Yeah? Is that all I am to you?" she asks, almost cracking up at the end from her snorting laughter, her arms moving around your waist to tug you closer. "Maybe all you are to me is just a big cock for me to ride.” 

"Well, as long as we've got it all figured out—"

And just like that, your lips crash again in unison.

“But if you want, I can give you Yizhuo’s number. Pretty sure she would suck you off in the middle of a park if you just asked her for the time." 

"Jesus," you mutter, incredulous at the words slipping from her lips. "Didn't you say she was your best friend?"

"Oh, she is. But she's also the biggest slut I know." Karina has the widest grin you've ever seen.

You don't even have a word to say to that, but you don't need one when you let those lips overtake yours again. "Weren't we in the middle of something? We’ve still got an hour before I have to shower and get to class, so I better see you fucking me into next week."

And you can't possibly resist that. 

#kpop smut #aespa smut #karina smut #reader insert #girl group smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #reader x karina

[sceletaflores]

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up.

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, malpractice? unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

authors note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment. The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want some random massage therapist.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk about that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” you whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes

#✧: 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 #natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words #this took me so long #it's seven in the morning lmao #someone help me write faster #cause it's such a problem #like seriously #okay bye #love you hope you like this #challengers #challengers movie #challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #challengers smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x you #sort of

[daenysx]

imagine giving james a skincare sesh where reader is seated comfortably (on his lap ehm) and he lets her put all sorts of moisturizers, face masks and even lip balm on him and he secretly LOVES it and after they eat homemade cookies and watch their comfort show

thank you for requesting!! i had so much fun writing this, it's my skincare routine applied to james. i guess that means he's literally my boyfriend now (support my delusions please <3333) you can send me requests for james!

james potter x fem!reader, fluff

"are you ready?" you say, grinning. you carried most of your skincare essentials to living room, ready to give your tired boyfriend a nice spa day.

"yes." james walks out of the bathroom. "i washed my face."

"with the cleansing jel?"

"yes, baby." he sits on the couch next to you. you place yourself on his lap expertly, his face looks dry and clean. you lean to give him a kiss on his cheek, james settles down on couch with his back to pillows.

"okay." you say, clapping your hands. you're excited to give him a nice treating, he deserves all the best. you've never understood how boys have clear and smooth skin naturally, james certainly doesn't use as many products as you do, but he lets you do anything you want to him. skincare is like a therapy for you, quality minutes you spend on yourself. it's relaxing, taking care of your body without a single thought in your mind, you want james to experience it, too.

"let me just pull your hair back first." you say quietly, using tiny hairclips to secure his curls.

"why are you whispering?" he asks, whispering.

"i wanna create a relaxing ambience for you." you answer. "whispering is a part of it."

"oh." he teases. "okay."

you take your face toner in your hand, pouring some of it on a cotton pad. "close your eyes, jamie." you say, start applying it on his skin.

james relaxes into the pillow, his hands keep you balanced on his thighs. he likes how excited you get to take care of him, he likes being spoiled by you. your fingers are gentle on his face, almost invisible.

"now i'm gonna put on a face mask, handsome." you say, tearing the package of the mask. "it can feel a bit cold."

"that's okay." he mumbles. you place the mask on his skin carefully, adjusting the sides to cover his entire face. "what does this do?"

"um," you read the package. "it's for hydration mostly, and it has vitamin c in it."

"cool." he has no idea what vitamin c does for skin.

"we're gonna wait for 15 minutes." you say. "can i massage your hands while we wait?"

this must be some kind of special heaven for james. he gives you his hands blindly, you put on hand cream on the back of his hands and start rubbing it nicely on his skin.

james sometimes complains about how rough his hands feel, he washes them a lot and always neglects applying moisturizer. the cream feels good, like he has the skin of a baby now. you're being really sweet on him, he likes the way his muscles loosen up under your fingers.

"you're an angel." he says, a deep sound coming from his throat when you press a tight spot between his thumb and forefinger. "my fucking angel."

you smile, giving the same care to his other hand. james feels his hands go numb when you're finished. you clean the remnants of the cream on your hands before taking the mask off his face. "there you go." you put the used mask aside. "feels good?"

"i feel like a baby."

you laugh. "you're gonna be like a baby when i'm done."

it's a nice promise, james likes it very much. "i'm gonna apply some under eye cream now." you whisper. "you have no dark circles, i'm so jealous."

"it's because i actually have a sleeping schedule, lovely girl." he smiles. "something you lack, you know."

"hmm."

you massage his face a little bit before applying some moisturizer. you don't think any more products are needed for james, his skin is already perfect and the mask takes care of a lot of things. you want his face to be relaxed, so you keep your fingers on his cheeks. he smiles a lot, there are little lines on the corners of his lips and eyes that start forming. you can't help yourself, you kiss his lips softly. he immediately reacts but you pull yourself back, focusing on your work.

"what's the point of relaxing if i'm not gonna get a kiss?" james frowns.

"you'll get your kisses." you promise. "when i'm done."

applying moisturizer is so easy, his skin is glowing now. you make sure you cover every little spot on his face. "it smells good." he says. you nod even though his eyes are closed. "it really does." you say.

"and now," you put the cream away. "lip mask."

"lip mask?" james opens his eyes. "how will i kiss you if i have something on my lips?"

you laugh at his dramatics. "it never stopped you before. you always ruin my lipstick, remember?"

"not the same thing."

"come on, be a good boy for once." you tease. james parts his lips in shock. "once? this is a vile accusation."

you stop him, putting on a tiny bit of lip mask on his lips. he presses his lips together clumsily. "it tastes nice. is that strawberry?"

"you're not supposed to eat it!" you laugh. "leave some of it at least."

"mm, okay." he says. you fix his hair, and put a kiss on his cheek. you hand him the remote before leaving his lap. "i'm gonna bring you some cookies, can you pick a show?"

james nods, watches you clean up the mess through sleepy eyes. his skin has never felt this soft, he wants to pinch his own cheeks. he opens up the show you both like as he waits for you.

you come back with a plate full of cookies. james pulls you into his lap again. "i'm gonna eat just one." he says smugly. "i can't ruin my lip mask and i don't want crumbs on my face."

you laugh. "you're getting really good at this skincare thing."

"thanks to my angel." he says, he kisses your cheek three times. "i love you so much."

"i love you, too, baby." you say, your hand in his curls. "i can do it anytime you want."

"good, because i don't think i can go on without this anymore." he says like it's so obvious. "now, i remember i was promised kisses."

you settle down on his lap. "i don't wanna ruin your lip mask."

"it's not ruining, babe." he disagrees. "i'm willingly sharing my lip mask with you."

you laugh until your chest hurts.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfic #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #marauders fics

[anemoiashifts]

some things to consider about shifting before trying.

✧ body dysmorphia if you change your appearance in your desired reality.

✧ not being able to watch your comfort show because the “characters are real people” now & it “feels different”.

✧ imposture syndrome.

✧ peter pan syndrome.

✧ balancing multiple lives.

✧ never knowing how what you experience in your dr will effect you.

✧ altering your view on destiny & how much we have control in our life.

✧ altering our view on ourselves.

✧ your friend(s) in your desired reality never knowing you like how you know them.

✧ not being able to be 100% open with people in this reality about your experiences in your dr.

✧ unscripted scenarios.

✧ knowing that scripting isn’t always a guarantee.

✧ your dr not being everything you thought it would.

✧ that “high” of being in a new place & that excitement eventually wearing off.

✧ the power dynamic your cc & s/o may have over you because you’ve idolized them in your head so much.

✧ that if you’re running from your problems here, you’ll never stop running.

✧ feeling like there’s no end if we’re considering the idea of quantum immortality.

edit: this post isn’t meant to demotivate anyone or cause stress. some of these things ive gone through first hand. shifting is so great & can be therapeutic in itself but there are also things to consider. we glamorize shifting so much & don’t often talk about the negative. don’t let my words pull away from shifting. all i ask is that you stay safe & take care of yourself. i really do care about you guys & that’s why im willing to get backlash or lose some of you guys along the way for speaking about this. it’s important.

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter

[eomayas]

be alright • kmg

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x gn!reader, established relationship

genre: angst & fluff

synopsis: reader has a hard time asking for and accepting help, and that’s all mingyu wants to do

warnings: reader uses a purse, hyper-independent reader, arguments, reader is mean to mingyu but it’s resolved, healthy communication, mention of reader wearing women’s clothing

a/n: got inspo from SATC where carries computer breaks lol. i love making my reader unconventional because its not super common in fics!

“let me hold something,” mingyu says, reaching for the bag in your hand, but you jerk it away from him as you fumble with the keys.

“i got it,” you say, balancing your phone, purse, and keys in one hand while not dropping the shopping bags in the other. mingyu sighs quietly behind you, just as you shove the key into the lock with success, and open your your apartment. “see.”

mingyu chuckles, but it sounds more like a scoff that you ignore. you drop your items onto your small kitchen table, hands finally free of holding a million things at once. curse tiny purses and the lack of pockets on women’s clothing! “where do you want these?” mingyu asks from your kitchen, holding up some groceries in his hand. the pantry where you keep them is to his left, but there’s a certain order in which you keep things, and you’d rather not explain it at the moment.

“don’t worry about it, i’ll do it,” you say, walking into the kitchen and plucking the items from his hand. you move around mingyu to the cupboard and put your groceries away, just dancing around him until you’ve put everything in their places. “what’s wrong?” you ask mingyu once you’re done. he leans against one of your counters with his arms crossed over his chest and his face pinched.

mingyu opens his mouth, but closes it immediately as if trying to measure his words. he pokes his tongue in the side of his cheek and sweeps his eyes around your kitchen before landing them on you. “i’m just trying to help,” he says, tugging his beanie off and running a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots.

you tilt hour head to the side, confusion littered across your face. “what do you mean?”

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose before sighing, his shoulders rising and dropping hard, like he’s been holding it in for awhile. “you don’t let me help you—with anything, ever. you never ask me for help,” he says.

“because i don’t need it.”

your response is quick, was sitting on the tip of your tongue the moment he opened his mouth for the second time to explain to you. it’s the truth, whether you wanted to spell it out for him, or if he actually wanted to hear it. you can do things on your own, take care of yourself. you don’t need anybody else to do it for you. “you don’t need it? or you don’t want it?” he fires back, making you cock your head back in surprise. is this your first fight?

“both. and if i needed your help, id ask,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. the frown on his face deepening.

“i am just trying to help.”

“and if i needed your help id ask, mingyu!” you don’t mean to shout, but you’re done with the conversation. “if you don’t like it, then…” you shrug and gesture vaguely. you watch his face morph from frustration, into something that makes your heart deflate in your chest.

“then what?” he questions, and all you can do is shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat. “really?” he imitates your shrug and straightens up against the counter, hurt taking over his expressions. “how could you say something like that, y/n?”

your nose starts to burn and your throat feels clogged. you sniff and blink a few times to keep the tears that threaten to fall at bay. “that’s just how i am, mingyu. i don’t know what else you want me to say.”

mingyu drops his hands to his sides and pushes himself off of the counter. “i’ll just… see you later, i guess,” he mutters, snatching his beanie off the counter and pulling it on. you don’t make a move to stop him as he walks down the hall to your door. you stay planted in the kitchen, slumping when you hear your front door close—he doesn’t even do you the favor of slamming it so you could have a reason upset with him later, to give yourself an out for how you’ve talked to him. you expect the tears to come, but they don’t. still, you stay rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes to collect yourself and your thoughts.

surely, you’ve been on you own before. the world isn’t going to end because you’re by yourself.

by the third day of no contact, you start to feel like the world may end—maybe not today, but sometime soon. the lack of random, sweet texts throughout the day make you itch for his attention. it starts to makes you feel bad, and by the fourth day you’ve decided you’ve had enough—of the silence, of yourself. all of it.

sitting in the dark of your car, you dial up his number and press it against your ear. your acrylic nail flies up to your mouth, and you anxiously put it between your teeth as the phone rings, and rings, and—“hello?” mingyus voice ripples through the speaker and fills your heart up with hope.

“hi. are you home? can we talk?” you ask. it sounds quiet on the other side of the phone, and you desperately need to see him, before you lose the one person you’ve probably wanted the most in this lifetime.

mingyu is quiet for awhile before saying. “i am,” he takes a pause, and you hold your breath. “you can come over.” and you let out the breath, a sigh of relief at his voice and his words and the fact that you have a chance of getting your man back.

“okay, ill be over soon.”

you pull up in front of his apartment building ten minutes later. you rush out of the car and bound into the lobby, opting for the stairs because there’s already somebody waiting for the elevator. he only lives on the third floor anyway.

coming to a stop in front of his door, you take a deep breath before raising your fist to deliver three short knocks to the door. you count the seconds in your head before he answers—23–and he’s pulling a shirt over his head as he gestures for you to come inside. it takes everything in you not to rush into him, to beg him to come back to you and for his forgiveness. you’re much more civil than that, thanking him for letting you come over, and standing promptly in the foyer.

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head at you before sighing and dropping his shoulders. “y/n, you don’t have to stand in the hallway like you’ve never been here before,” he slips past you, his hand colliding with the small of your back (definitely on purpose), and walks ahead of you into the living room. with a start, you follow after him into his living room, glancing around for a safe place to sit. you worry that if you’re too close to him, your words won’t come out right and this drive here would be a waste of time.

you opt to keep standing, leaning against the wall adjacent from him. he sits lazily on the couch, his arm draped across the back and his legs outstretched in front of him. he keeps his gaze on you, a silent stand off happening between the two of you. “so…” he trails off, and your stomach roils.

“okay, well, first off—i’m sorry for the other day. i know you just want to help, and i appreciate it. i really do. i’m just not a person who needs it, mingyu. it has nothing to do with you specifically—it’s just how im wired,” you say, blowing out a breath. his lip quirks at your last comment before dropping back to the emotionless expression he was wearing previously. “and i really miss you, you know? i-i really, really fucking miss you.” pressing your hands into your stomach, you swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the burning in the back of your nose.

mingyu shifts on the couch, bringing his hand up to his hair to muss. “i know, but you can’t just… you can’t just tell me to get over it, or leave, y/n. i don’t think you realize how mean that was,” you cringe at his words, feeling even more like shit. if he called you a ‘bitch’ you’d probably hate it less than him calling you mean.

your feet are waking you over to him before you realize it. you sit next to him and grab his hands, grateful that he lets you with no pushback. “i really like you, y/n, and i really care about you, too. i don’t think you’re weak, or incapable, when i offer to help you with things. i just want to make things easier for you if i can. i just want you to let me shoulder some of the weight for you,” mingyu adds, his voice sincere and his eyes saying more than his words did. you gnaw at your bottom lip as you try to blink back pathetic tears. you’re not prone to tears, but with mingyu that’s all you feel like you can do right now.

taking a deep breath, you swallow the lump in your throat and try to keep your voice even. “mingyu, im really sorry. i-im just used to taking care of myself,” you let go of one of his hands to harshly wipe away tears from under your eyes, closing them for a brief moment and blowing out a breath. mingyu doesn’t rush you to get the words out, just sits there quietly and waits for you to be ready. “if i start letting you do things for me, one day you’re not going to be there. i can’t let myself get used to that, and then one day you’re gone.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

that brings a small smile to your lips. “but if you’re—i don’t know, gone, and i need you but you’re not there, what am i supposed to do? and nothing is guaranteed…” you sigh and hunch your shoulders, staring at his face. he looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening his mouth and closing it a few times.

“then we will just figure it out, y/n. don’t focus on what hasn’t happened yet, okay? i’m not going anywhere, especially not soon,” he tugs you towards him by your hands, and you fall into his chest and rest your face in the crook of his neck. “just don’t push me away.” he says, his voice a whisper. you cringe inwardly and press a chaste kiss to his neck, letting you lips linger before hugging yourself into him.

he wraps his strong arms around you and holds you tightly against him. “i’m sorry,” you say into his skin, voice hoarse as silent tears leak out of your eyes. you feel relief, and a sort of sadness for who you almost lost, but mainly just relief. you also feel like the biggest asshole ever, but you know that feeling will pass.

“hey,” mingyu coos softly, pulling his head back to look down at you. you lift your head and he wipes your tears away with his thumb. “we’ll be alright, baby.”

and he’s right. you’re not going to magically relinquish all autonomy to make your relationship work, but you can start accepting help when it’s offered, and start asking when some things feel too big for a single person. that’s what a partnership is, right? taking another persons burden and making it your burden too?

#svt imagines #svt scenarios #mingyu fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #svt x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu soft hours #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt angst #mingyu angst

[jasmineoolongtea]

hii!! i recently just started following you and i don’t wanna overload you with anything so i stress that i urge you to take your time and if you feel like you need to tweak anything then you can since i noticed you barely opened requests :)) i was just wondering if you could write something ( whether it be headcanons or a fic ) about gojo having a jujutsu sorcerer for a girlfriend / partner and his students don’t know so they’re all shocked when they just see this badass person next to gojo and he just casually introduces them as his partner lol. just a thought!! make sure to take care of yourself 💕

a/n: thank you smmmm for the kind words <333 yes omg i love this idea and honestly, i imagine gojo pretending to be chill on the outside but on the inside he's fangirling the same way his students are over his partner cause he's just so whipped and down bad for them jdjsndnsbd

"Shhhh! Quiet down, you two or you're gonna get us all caught." Nobara hisses through her teeth at Megumi and Yuji, trying her best to be quiet. It was quite a comical sight actually, the three students were all stacked on top of each other as they all attempted to crane their necks into the doorway as discretely as they possibly could.

"I still don't understand why we can't just ask like normal people." Megumi sighs, clearly exasperated at his friend's antics.

"You're such a buzzkill, Fushiguro." Nobara scolds him over her shoulder. It was like he didn't even understand the gravity of this situation.

This wasn't a situation where they could just waltz in and chat it up like regular unless they were intent on embarrassing themselves. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet the current rising star of the jujutsu world: the newly minted special-grade sorcerer L/N Y/N who was famed for being highly elusive, never being in one place for too long to be tied down to somewhere.

Rumours and stories were constantly swirling about you ranging from the more serious ones about your incredible feats of jujutsu and how you managed to exorcise a grade 1 curse for one of your very first missions without breaking a single sweat to more silly ones like that you only wash your face with the purest spring water that was imported from the Swiss Alps and that allegedly you and Gojo Satoru were seeing each other. She thought the last one was particularly dumb as she was sure that a person of your calibre would have better taste than to date their man-child of a teacher, even if he was the strongest. Whatever it was, Nobara was not going to let those two ruin her chances of possibly being able to talk with you face to face.

Above her, Yuji groans out in pain as he feels an elbow jam into his stomach.

"Hey! That hurts!" Yuji complains loudly, his grip tightening around the wooden door frame.

"Can't you be in pain more quietly?" Nobara asks and with that, the two of them were sent into a bickering spat as they traded harsh whispers and snappy comments. However, this would prove to be their end as Megumi eventually loses his balance from all of the commotion above him and tumbles onto the floor with the other two following suit as they land in what can only be described as a failed human pretzel.

Unfortunately, their crash was not as quiet as Nobara was hoping for as one of the office's inhabitants stood up from his seat, seemingly made aware of their presence. "Oh? It seems like we have some eavesdroppers in our midst."

You hum to yourself, your back still facing the doorway as you turn to your white-haired companion. "Is that true?"

"Yes, I think I might know who they are as well. If only they would be so brave enough to reveal themselves." Gojo sighs dramatically, even bringing a hand to his chest as if to feign sympathy. You can't help but giggle softly at his behaviour.

The three of them take that as their cue to stand up, dusting themselves off as they slowly make their way into the office in a single file line. When Nobara sees you, she can't even let herself fully fangirl because the amount of embarrassment she has at getting caught trying to eavesdrop is far outweighing it right now.

Gojo makes his way towards his students as they stand lined up, his hands rubbing together and a devious grin on his face as he puts on his best menacing voice. "Now now now, what do we have here?"

"Satoru, take it easy on them. I'm sure they meant no harm by it." You place a hand on his shoulder as you stroll up to his side. His arms immediately fall to his side as he melts under your touch.

An adorable pout graces his features, his bottom lip jutted out in an attempt to put on his best puppy dog look as he whines at you, "Awww, but you're ruining my funnn. I don't get that many opportunities to do this."

"Sensei, they know you by your first name?" Yuji questions, his head tilted slightly to the side as he tries to figure out what relationship you two could possibly have.

A sly snicker is heard from Gojo as he quirks his eyebrows towards you. "They know me in a lot more ways than just that" he quips back, his tone bordering on being an outright innuendo.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him, clearly used to his playful nature by this point, and give him a light shove on the shoulder to which he pretends to exaggeratedly nurse in pain.

"Sorry for not introducing myself properly, my name is L/N Y/N and I'm a special-grade sorcerer here on a visit to Tokyo Jujustu High." You smile warmly at your boyfriend's students, your hands clasped in front of you as you greet them.

Nobara could feel her breath hitch in her throat as a million thoughts ran through her mind. Oh my god, you, her idol, were actually right in front of her and were acknowledging her. She swears she could die happy right this instance but that would mean that she wouldn't get to take full advantage of the chance to talk to you fully. With that, she snaps out of her star-struck daze and politely inquires, "If you don't mind me asking L/N-san, what are you here for?"

"Oh, they're here to visit yours truly, me!" Gojo chimes in, a megawatt grin on his face with a sense of pride radiating off of him as he motions to himself.

A tsk sound escapes Nobara, clearly distrustful of her teacher's statement. "Yeah right, they have way more important things to be doing than that."

"But it's true though! My lovely partner is here to pay a surprise visit to me!"

"There's no way that that's true. You and them?" As if to punctuate her point, she points at you and Gojo standing side by side and firmly shakes her head. "Nuh uh. They wouldn't date the likes of you."

A soft smack is heard as Gojo theatrically clutches his chest, stumbling back from where he stands to drape himself over you. "It wounds me to hear you say that Kugisaki." He claims, his expression twisted into one of faux pain. When he turns to face you, his demeanour suddenly switches as he leans in towards your ear, a roughish smile on his face with a faintly seductive lilt to his voice. "Maybe we should kiss to prove that it's true."

"Don't be crude, Satoru, they're your students and they're right in front of us." You try to brush him off of you in an attempt to spare his students from becoming witnesses to their teacher's love for PDA but he doesn't let go of his grip, instead choosing to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck as if trying to coax you to stay with him in his embrace. Like always, you relent to his touch with your fingers carding through his snowy locks, a soft sigh of approval leaving his lips.

There's a beat of silence as Nobara and Yuji try to process what they've just learned and the fact that they've just seen a visual confirmation of it before that peace is shattered and they erupt into a thousand questions. You field all of their burning questions ranging from ones about you to about your relationship with Gojo with grace, amused and endeared by their excitement and insatiable curiosity. Secretly, it warms your heart deeply that Gojo and his students are so comfortable with each other and that he can be himself around them without the pressure of the greater Jujutsu world on his back.

You turn to look at the clock and sigh at how fast time has gone by. "Alright, I'll see you at home Satoru and Megumi." You comment, packing up your belongings as you get ready to leave to attend to some business. Gojo leans down to your height as you place a lingering kiss against his cheek and wave him and his students goodbye.

Unblinking, Yuji and Nobara turn to each other and then to Megumi before they exclaim simultaneously. "You all live together!?"

Oh boy, Megumi knows he's going to be in for an earful with that.

#*ੈ✩‧₊🍵 asks #dividers by cafekitsune #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #‧₊˚ ⋅ 🍵 writes

[vivwritesfics]

Sleepless

She's struggling to sleep, and it's all Bucky's fault

warnings: violence, choking, nightmares, angst

Her hands clawed at his wrist, trying to pry his metal hand away from her neck. As desperate as she was to suck in deep breaths, air wasn't reaching her lungs. Oh God, she was so damn dizzy.

There he stood before her, mask covering his mouth. His dark hair hung limp around his face and his blue eyes stared at her, furious. Metal fingers wrapped around her neck, his grip bruising. He was gonna kill her, and he didn't even care.

"Please," she gasped as she dropped her hands away from his wrist. But she just couldn't hold on anymore.

"Bucky!"

His head whipped to the left. A second later he dropped her, body falling as he released her neck. Even as she hit the ground she was sucking in desperate gasps of air as her attacker ran.

She awoke with a gasp, desperately trying to suck in deep breaths. Her hand was against her chest but, every time she shut her eyes, she saw her attacker.

"Doll?" Her husband asked, voice groggy as he reached towards her. But the moment his metal fingers brushed against the skin of her thigh, she was flinching away.

Bucky sat up at that. He couldn't hide the flash of hurt in his eyes, but he couldn't exactly blame her.

He didn't remember what he'd done, didn't remember who or what he was during that stage of his life. He wasn't Bucky. He was some mindless beast who killed whoever got between him and his mission.

They met again a good few years after this. He was a different person when they met again. He was Bucky Barnes, a war hero (several times over), a soldier, and a man who had celebrated his one hundred and something birthday.

The bruises had long since faded from her neck when she met him again. She hadn't forgotten the man that had choked her, but she hadn't seen enough of his face to pick him out in the crowd. But still, she'd never forget the way his hair fell around his face, just how angry his eyes were.

She didn't recognise him and Bucky didn't recognise her, even once he'd helped clean the coffee that he'd spilled on her. (Now, you might be thinking, how didn't she see his arm and freak? It wasn't something Bucky liked to just have out and about as he walked around. No, he wore long sleeves and had a single, leather glove covering his hand. His hair was cut and his eyes were so sweet). He asked her on a date and the rest was, well, history.

Even on the date, Bucky wore long sleeves and that glove. He saw her gaze lingering on his hand, but she didn't ask. And Bucky wasn't ready to tell.

She didn't find out until the first time she took him back to her apartment. Her legs were wrapped around him as he stumbled back into her couch, sitting down and placing her on his lap. Groans left his lips as she kissed down his neck.

But then he stopped her, gently pulled her away. "Doll," he said as his flesh hand cradled her head. "I need to show you something."

It was early in the relationship, but it was something Bucky couldn't hide anymore. He picked her up from his lap and sat her down beside him.

His leg bounced and he dug his nails into his thighs. "Before I show you, I need to explain," he said. He tried to being his sentence a couple of times over, but it wasn't happening. Giving up, he let out a sigh, head dropping forward. "Have you ever heard of the Winter Soldier?"

A dry laugh left her lips. "Are you kidding me, Buck? That psycho tried to kill me," she said as she looked at him, head falling against the back of the sofa.

He swallowed, mouth dry. But he had to keep going.

Slowly, Bucky began peeling off his gloves off of his fingers. "The Winter Soldier is an ordinary man," Bucky began, unable to meet her eye. "The ordinary side of him doesn't know what the Winter Soldier side of him has done. He doesn't know the people he's hurt, doesn't know the ways in which he's hurt them."

He slipped his shoulder down and a gasp left her lips. "No," she gasped, backing away from him.

"Doll, I swear I've never hurt you. I'm not the Winter Soldier," he said quickly. But he didn't reach towards her. "It's.. hard to explain. But I'm not the Winter Soldier. I need you to know that it wasn't me."

It took a lot of time, but Bucky explained it to her. They had to start things again. So early in their relationship and they had to start everything again. But Bucky was willing. As long as she had him, he was gonna do whatever he could to keep it that way.

Here they were a year later.

Clarity overcame her features as she looked down at Bucky. "Fuck," she hissed and wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Buck. I-I had a nightmare."

He sat up slightly. His arms were open, allowing her to crawl inside of them and rest against him if she wanted to. "I know, Doll," he said. Her eyes moved to his metal hand as he own hand reached forwards her throat, feeling for the phantom bruises that had disappeared so long ago.

For a moment she just sat there, knees tucked up to her chest and her cheek resting against her knee. The sight broke Bucky's heart.

What were you meant to do when you were the person that terrified the love of your life more than anything? Bucky wiped his hand over his face and climbed out of the bed. He pulled shorts up his legs to cover himself up and headed out to the kitchen.

She watched him go and her heart dropped. She was fucking everything, and she knew it. Fuck, she loved this man so much. Everything was fine while she was awake, but the moment she shut her eyes, she was terrified.

"Shit," she groaned and wiped her eyes again. She climbed out of bed and grabbed a hold of Bucky's shirt. Pulling it over her head, she pulled it up to her nose and breathed in.

And then she set off, bare feet padding against the floor as she headed to the kitchen. "Buck," she called as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen.

There Bucky was, sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. "It's the middle of the night," she muttered as she walked over and pulled the cup away from him. "You're not gonna be able to sleep."

He looked at her, but his expression was unreadable. "Bucky," she tried as she stepped into his arms. He didn't move to wrap his arms around her, and her heart leapt into her throat. "I-I love you. You know that, right?"

He gave a nod. "I know, Doll," he mumbled and stood up. "Want me to get you some water?"

Her hand reached up to cup his jaw. "I want you to tell me you love me," she said, head cocked to the side.

Bucky brought his flesh hand up to rest over her own. "I love you, Doll." He to a pause to suck in a breath. "I just wish it wasn't me that you're scared of."

"Buck, I know I'm scared of him, not you. I know you're not him."

She reached down to take his metal hand in her own. Bringing it up to her lips, she kissed his thumb. "You're my everything, Buck," she whispered and dropped his hand. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. This time, Bucky let his arms wrap around her.

No man had ever looked at her with so much love in his eyes. He dropped his forehead against her own. "I can sleep on the couch tonight," he offered.

"Don't you fucking dare."

A small grin split across his face. "Yes ma'am."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #james buchanan barnes

[xenteaart]

it's not about the roses

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but despite a brief mention of the studio it can fit any au, really) word count: 1,1k genre/warnings: er, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint but overall just tooth rotting sweetness. reader being kinda vulnerable author's note: inspired by my and @skzms 's channie brain worms, me crying over how boyfie he is in may's dms and her coming up with this little prompt. i'm manifesting a sweet healthy relationship for y'all, never settle for less <3

you were never the one for flowers, really.

it just didn’t seem anything meaningful or special, an occasional cute little bouquet on some first date you had ages ago, meeting someone completely new after mindlessly swiping them right on a dating app. plus, it’s always such a bother to take care for it. disassemble the thing, cut the stems, change the water, maybe cut off the leaves too.

at some point, you began to think of yourself as more of a practical person, taking gift giving to the point where it completely lost symbolism. always getting your friends and family either money or something they specifically asked for.

“at least, they’re actually gonna use it and get some utility out of it. ‘s good, right?” you thought to yourself, ticking a box on one of your friend’s wishlists for their birthday. it is good. no stress of choosing and endlessly pondering whether they’ll like it or not.

or is it avoiding the vulnerability of going down a more symbolic route if they don’t happen to respond to your gift the way you’d like them to after carefully planting hidden meanings and confessions all over a seemingly useless present? yeah, maybe, that’s the one, actually.

it was a regular saturday evening, no work, no plans, no big day or anything to celebrate. so, naturally, you were just spending the time at your place, resting after successfully having done all the house chores in one go.

purposelessly lying on the bed, you wondered what chris was up to. it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you two to leave each other hanging during the day, keeping each other’s messages unread and waiting for some free time to give a thoughtful, proper reply.

but the little “1” next to your kakaotalk message was starting to feel unfriendly because... honestly? you just missed him. you wanted to know about his day, what he ate for lunch and whether work was okay today (knowing full well the man couldn’t care less about days of the week, coming over at the studio any time he needed or pleased).

distracting yourself with scrolling tiktok for a quick dopamine hit, you end up losing track of time a little. and the thing bringing you back to reality is chan’s short message, popping up on your notifications bar.

“can you come out for a sec? i’m at the door hehe~”

it takes you three times to read to finally understand what it actually means. he doesn’t have keys to your apartment yet, and you mostly hang out at his place anyways, so him coming all the way to the opposite side of the city makes your heart skip a beat.

you rush to the door and open it almost immediately, only to see channie, your channie, standing right in front of you with a nice bouquet of red roses wrapped up in kraft paper. the next thing you notice is chan’s wide smile, so sincere and endearing it makes you wanna cry on the spot.

you were never the one for flowers, really.

red roses always seemed like something either too vulgar or “easy”. something that becomes men’s first pick because they just never care enough to look for anything else and assume every girl loves it by default.

right now, however, it doesn’t feel like either of those.

the way chris is a bit nervous and really excited all at once; his hands gripping at the crunchy paper-wrapped base as he's waiting to give the flowers to you. the way his eyes sparkle and shine with warmth and genuine adoration for you. and you read past the roses, you learn so much more from it.

you learn how he’s been quiet because he was plotting a little surprise for you, trying not to be too obvious.

you see how he thought of you during the entire process, from an idea to carefully picking out the best flowers, making sure they’re fresh and pretty and will stay this way a while.

you can hear his timid little “thank you” to the florist as they exchange their bows and polite smiles.

you imagine the slightly awkward small talk with the taxi driver asking him about the occasion — the traffic and the parking area next to your building are awful, so you’re guessing he did take the taxi. and the drivers sure love to talk on the long drives, this one you had to learn the hard way.

gosh, chan looks so warm and… so soft, his lips making a familiar heartbreaking :] shape.

snapping out of your thoughts, you look into chris’s eyes and swallow down a salty lump in your throat.

“please don’t be alarmed, but i probably will cry a little,” you warn him before your voice gives out and take the roses, holding them close to your chest where the heart is bleeding.

“so pretty,” you stare down at the gentle velvety petals and sniff quietly.

chan looks worried for a moment but quickly pulls you into his embrace, stepping into the apartment and locking the door behind him.

“hey-y, i expected a smile, not your tears, baby. i didn’t upset you, did i?” to which you shake your head to reassure him.

“no, no, ‘course not! what do you mean? they’re so nice. i’m just… really happy? and i missed you. so much,” the last words come out like a weak mouse squeak as you close your eyes and let your emotions roll down your cheeks, staining your skin wet.

chan nods and takes your face into his palms, wiping away the tears and looking at you so lovingly you think you might actually break.

“i missed you too, baby. do you mind if i stay the night? i…- uh. i bought some face masks too, so we can just relax a little before bed and cuddle?”

you squeeze out a little “yeah” in response, headbutting his forehead and putting your arm around him, with another still holding the roses carefully.

“i love you,” you say slightly louder, making sure that he hears it.

maybe, gifts don’t have to be practical all the time. maybe, it’s okay to put sentimental value into simple, useless things sometimes. make them mean something.

“i love you too, baby,” chris hums still a little confused, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back and planting a chaste kiss on the bridge of your nose.

you reach for his plump soft lips and press yours against them. and even though your tastebuds can feel the salt, it’s the sweetest kiss you two have shared so far.

#skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #my fic #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan x female reader #chan x female reader #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #my writing #my work #skz fanfic

[be4chywritez]

Plzzz tell me we are getting a part 2 of you had me at hello

You ask and you'll receive.

had me at hello ll | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x perez!reader

part l

oscar and you are dating but when dating someone with such a high profile scrutiny is unavoidable.

You checked your phone nervously, glancing around the corner of the dimly lit café. It was your first real date, away from the prying eyes of the paddock and the ever-watchful media. You smiled as you saw Oscar approaching, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with a boyish grin.

Oscar slid into the seat across from you, his eyes sparkling. “This place is perfect,” he said, looking around at the cozy décor. “How did you find it?”

“An actress never tells her secrets.” You teased, winking. “But seriously, I thought we could use a break from all the chaos.”

You ordered drinks and settled into an easy conversation, talking about everything from your favorite movies to the challenges you and Oscar have faced in your careers. The more they talked, the more You realized how much you enjoyed Oscar’s company. He was kind, attentive, and surprisingly funny.

Midway through your conversation, Oscar reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “I have to tell you something,” he began, his cheeks tinged with pink.

“What is it?” You asked, intrigued by his sudden seriousness.

Oscar took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I absolutely love your accent. The way you speak… it’s beautiful. I could listen to you talk all day.”

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “Thank you, Oscar. That’s really sweet. I guess I never really thought about it.”

Oscar smiled, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. “It’s just… it’s a part of you. And I like everything about you, even the way you say my name.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling your heart race. “You’re making me blush, Oscar.”

You finished their drinks and decided to take a walk along the quiet streets. The night air was cool, and You shivered slightly. Without a word, Oscar draped his jacket over your shoulders, his hand lingering on your arm.

Y/n looked at him through your lashes, taking hold of his hand, gently giving him enough time to pull away, but he didn’t. He brought their interlinked hands to his lips, kissing the back of your hand.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through you as you felt the gentle pressure of his lips on your skin. It was such a simple gesture, yet it carried so much meaning. You squeezed his hand, your fingers intertwining perfectly.

As they walked, the city lights casting a soft glow around them, Oscar suddenly stopped.

“Y/n, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you replied, looking up at him.

“What happens if this gets out?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I don't want to cause something with your brother," He swallows watching you with careful eyes.

You took a deep breath, considering his words. “We’ll deal with it together,” you said firmly. “I don’t know what Checo could do, but I do know that I want to be with you.”

Oscar smiled, relief was evident in his eyes. “I want that too.”

Oscar let out a huff. "So, you're my girlfriend?" he asked, swinging your hands. You looked over at him, "Looks like it."

You continued your walk, eventually reaching the front of your hotel room. Standing there, basking in each other's warmth, he opened his mouth to say something, "I'm sorry, I have to," he said, grabbing the side of your face and bringing you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, your hands gripping his wrist.

You both pulled away, lips swollen. "Good night, Oscar," you smiled, ducking into the room.

You quietly entered the hotel suite, as you settled your bag down you heard knock on your door, using your code knock like when you guys were little.

letting him in he takes a seat on the loveseat.

He took in your flushed cheeks, your swollen lips, and the way your pupils were slightly dilated.

"¿Dónde has estado?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just out,” you reply nonchalantly, trying to hide your smile.

Checo notices and sits up straight."¿Con Oscar verdad?"

You sigh, knowing you can’t hide it. “Yes, with Oscar.”

Checo frowns. “estoy preocupado por ti. Todo esto con Oscar… es complicado. Ustedes tienen carreras exigentes y los medios son implacables. Simplemente no quiero que te lastimes.”

You sit down next to him, your excitement from the date now mixed with concern. “I understand why you’re worried, Checo. But Oscar makes me happy. And I think we can handle it.” You rest your head on his shoulder.

Checo looks at you, his expression softening. “Simplemente no quiero verte lastimado. Si él te hace feliz, eso es todo lo que importa. Pero prométeme que tendrás cuidado."

You nod, hugging him. "Te lo prometo. Y gracias por preocuparte tanto."

"Solo recuerda, siempre estaré aquí para ti, pase lo que pase."

you let him out of your room, then collapsing onto the bed with a hazy expression on your face. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions, from guilt to excitement to fear of the consequences.

Later that night, you can't stop thinking about Oscar. The day's excitement has only heightened your feelings for him, and you find yourself wanting to be close to him again. You text him, and within minutes, there's a soft knock on your door.

You open it to find Oscar standing there, a shy smile on his face. "Hey," he says softly.

"Hey," you reply, stepping aside to let him in. "I just... I wanted to see you."

He closes the door behind him, his eyes never leaving yours. "I wanted to see you too," he says, his voice a low murmur.

Without another word, he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your face. You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and then his lips are on yours, soft and gentle.

You melt into the kiss, your hands gripping his wrists as you lose yourself in the moment. The kiss deepens, and you feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. He walks towards the couch, sitting down, and you straddle him, your hands making their way to the hair at the base of his neck. You tug slightly, making him let out a quiet groan.

The sound sends a shiver down your spine, and you press closer to him, feeling his hands move to your waist. The intensity of the moment builds, your heart pounding in your chest as you lose yourself in his touch and the heat between you.

Just as things are starting to heat up, you hear a soft knock on your door. Both of you freeze, pulling away from each other reluctantly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to compose yourself.

"Y/n, are you okay?" It's Checo's voice, filled with concern.

You glance at Oscar, who looks equally startled. Taking a deep breath, you call out, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a minute."

You quickly straighten your clothes and smooth your hair before opening the door. Checo stands there, his expression a mix of worry and curiosity.

"What's going on?" he asks, his eyes darting between you and Oscar, who is now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"Nothing, we were just talking," you say, trying to sound casual.

Checo raises an eyebrow but doesn't press the issue. "Alright, just wanted to make sure you're okay. It's late, try to get some sleep."

You nod, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. "I will, thanks, Checo."

As Checo turns to leave, you close the door and lean against it, your heart still racing. Oscar steps closer, his hand finding yours.

"That was close," he whispers, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Too close," you agree, squeezing his hand. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Oscar nods, leaning in to give you one last, lingering kiss. "Good night, Y/n. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Oscar," you whisper back, watching him quietly leave the room.

With your heart still pounding, you crawl into bed, laying there your fingers dance around your lips, they feel swollen, and you sigh trying to fall asleep, for now, you let the warmth of his kiss linger as you drift off to sleep.

-

You and Oscar have been dating for a while now, you attend races as much as you could, switching up which team you would support.

Checo has accepted that you and Oscar are together, and he's happy to see his little sister happy.

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stretch languidly, the memory of last night bringing a smile to your face. The clock reads 8:30 AM, giving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Oscar.

You slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, the cool tiles underfoot helping to shake off any lingering sleepiness. As you go through your morning routine, your thoughts drift to Oscar, and a giddy excitement bubbles up inside you.

Once you're dressed in your carefully chosen outfit—a sleeveless white top with a tailored, fitted design and a deep neckline, paired with high-waisted, wide-leg jeans—you step back to admire yourself in the mirror. The red Prada heels, red handbag, and delicate necklaces add just the right touch of elegance and color.

Your phone buzzes, pulling you out of your reverie. It's a text from Oscar

Morning! Ready to go?

Yeah meet me in the lobby in 10?

Perfect see you soon 😊

Feeling a rush of excitment, you grab your things and head down to the lobby. As you wait, you check your reflection one last time in the lobby mirror, adjusting your hair and making sure everything is perfect.

Just as you finish, you hear a familiar voice behind you. "Y/n?"

You turn to see Checo walking towards you, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing down here so early?"

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly compose yourself. "Oh, just meeting Oscar."

Checo chuckles, "You sure do love him."

Just then, the elevator doors open, and Oscar steps out, looking slightly flustered but undeniably handsome. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he quickly makes his way over.

"Good morning," he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Good morning," you reply, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Checo watches the exchange with a neutral expression, but you can sense his protective instincts kicking in.

"Ready to go?" Oscar asks, offering his hand.

You take it, feeling a surge of happiness. "Absolutely."

Checo clears his throat, drawing both of your attention. "Oscar," he starts, his tone serious, "Look out for her."

Oscar nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I will."

Satisfied, Checo steps back, giving you both a nod. "Alright, you two. Have a good day."

You and Oscar head out of the hotel, hand in hand. The drive to the paddock is filled with easy conversation and laughter. Oscar seems more relaxed than ever, and you can't help but feel the same.

When he parks, he doesn't get out immediately he looks over at you, he runs his thumb against the back of your hand, "you look beautiful." he says.

You blush, thanking him, he get out of the car, opening your car door helping you out, he grabs your had walking towards the etrance of the circuit.

Fans push against the barricade trying to get Oscar to sign things, he slows down you let go of his hand to let him sign things for fans, you stand next to him, a fan greets you, you greet back, "y/n you look so cute today," you smile at the fan thanking her.

Oscar peers at you, "she always looks cute," he says handing back a cap to a fan, fans around you "Aw" and you giggle, Oscar bids them goodbye walking towards the garage.

The race went great for your brother, but for your boyfriend not so much, P16 wasn't a nice look, he walked toward the garage, his head hung low, and mechanics and engineers pat his back, you walk towards him taking his helmet that clutched he wrapped around your waist burying his nose into your shoulder.

you let him sit there, rubbing his back comfortably, he lets go, pecking your lips, and going to his drivers room.

That night Oscar layed down his head against your chest, an episode of Criminal Minds played in the background, you can hear him mutter something at the TV when the Team missed a clue.

Your phone vibrates, it is an email from your agent, she attached a letter from Sony, it read.

Dear Y/n, you got the part! You were amazing, the scripts are attached to this, and we can't wait to brainstorm with you, here is a rough draft schedule for filming.

SCREEN TESTS: JULY 25, 2023 BARBADOS

TABLE READS: JULY 26, 2023 BARBADOS

FILMING STARTS: JULY 30, 2023 BARBADOS

BREAK: OCTOBER 20, 2023 BARBADOS

FILMING STARTS: OCTOBER 31, 2023 BARBADOS

FILMING ENDS: NOVEMBER 20, 2023 BARBADOS

Kindly,Tony Vinciquerra

You blink, before processing anymore Oscar sits up, "we should order ice cream." he says slipping out of bed, he grabs the phone calling room service.

You stare at Oscar, and when he notices he gives you a wink, you look down at the email, you turn off your phone facing Oscar promising you'll tell him tomorrow

-

You found Oscar sitting in the jacuzzi on the balcony of your room, his head leaned back, his eyes closed, and his mouth slightly ajar. His eyes opened as you approached, his face lighting up with a smile that quickly faded when he saw the worry in your eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, watching you as you sat on the ledge of the jacuzzi, the ends of your thin nightgown getting wet.

“Hey,” you replied, “We need to talk.”

Oscar nodded, taking your hand in his.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I got an offer for a film role. It’s a big opportunity, but it’s in Barbados. I’d have to be away for three months.”

Oscar’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his expression serious. “That’s amazing, Y/n. You’ve worked so hard for this.”

“But it means we’d be apart,” you said, your voice trembling. “And you know long distance doesn't work.”

Oscar cupped your cheek with his free hand, looking into your eyes. “We’ll make it work. I won’t lie, it’s going to be tough, but we’ll figure it out. I believe in us.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, quickly brushing it away. “I believe in us too. But I’m scared, Oscar. Scared of losing you, of what people will say…”

Oscar pulled you into a tight hug, not caring if your nightgown got wet, his voice gentle but firm. “You have to go, and I’ll support you every step of the way. We’ll find a way to make it work, no matter what.”

Feeling the warmth of his embrace, you leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. It started softly, but soon it deepened, fueled by the intensity of emotions. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, holding him close as you poured all your love and longing into the kiss.

-

The following week, Checo and Oscar stood before you. You wore sunglasses to conceal any signs of tears.

Oscar respectfully stepped away, allowing you and your brother a moment together. "Vas a estar bien, te estaremos esperando, no te preocupes," he assured you, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

Planting a tender kiss on your forehead, he signaled to Oscar, who approached. After placing your glasses atop your head, Oscar gently wiped away a stray tear. "I love you," he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheeks before landing a soft kiss on your lips. You reciprocated, whispering, "I love you, Oscar," as he smiled warmly. "I love you more," he replied.

As Checo returned to your side, your gate was called. Grabbing your bag, you walked away from them. Checo patted Oscar on the back reassuringly. "She'll be okay."

-

You sat in your trailer, staring at the script in front of you. You had just finished another exhausting day of filming, and your body ached for rest. Your phone buzzed with a message from Oscar, asking how your day had been. You smiled at his thoughtfulness, but a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to respond immediately.

Later that evening, You found a quiet moment to call Oscar. “Hey,” you said softly, leaning back against the couch.

“Hey,” Oscar replied, his voice filled with warmth. “How was your day?”

“Long,” you admitted, sighing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Oscar said, his tone sincere. “But I have some good news. I’ve been doing really well in the simulations. The team thinks I might have a good shot at the podium this weekend.”

Your heart swelled with pride. “That’s amazing, Oscar! I knew you could do it.”

“But there’s something else,” Oscar continued, his voice growing serious. “The team wants me to stay focused. They’re worried that our relationship might be a distraction.”

Your heart sank. “What do you mean?”

“They think we’re spending too much time together,” Oscar explained. “They want me to cut back on our calls, at least until the season ends.”

You felt a knot forming in your stomach. “Oscar, I don’t want to be a distraction. I want to support you.”

“I know,” Oscar said gently. “And you do. But I have to prove to them that I can stay focused."

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “Okay. We’ll make it work. I believe in you, Oscar.”

Oscar’s voice softened. “Thank you, Y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, ending the call and staring at your phone, you sigh running a hand through your face.

before dwelling on your thoughts too much, your assistant called you out to film some promotional videos.

-

Later that week, You found yourself on a film set in a picturesque but remote location. The long hours and demanding schedule left little time for anything else. You missed Oscar terribly, your brief texts and calls never feeling like enough.

It also didn't help that he was traveling around the world.

One night, after an exhausting shoot, you returned to your trailer to find a bouquet of flowers and a note from Oscar: "Thinking of you. We’ll make it through this. Love, Oscar."

Tears welled up in your eyes as she read the note. You called him immediately, needing to hear his voice.

"Hey," he answered, sounding equally tired but happy to hear from you.

"Hey," you said, you voice breaking. "Thank you for the flowers. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too," Oscar replied. "But remember what we talked about? We’re in this together. No matter what."

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of reassurance washed over you. "I know. And I’m here for you too, Oscar. We’ll get through this."

You and Oscar stayed on the phone for hours that night, until you fell asleep.

-

Your co-star bangs on your trailer door you jump up from your spot, quickly opening the door to be greeted by him. "Y/n, stop being so boring. The crew and I are gonna go get a bite. Wanna come?" he asks.

You consider for a moment, then reply, "Yeah, I'll go."

You sit at the pizza parlor with the crew, enjoying the sweet Barbados air as it tickles your face. It takes your mind off Oscar, though you feel slightly guilty for not thinking about him. But it feels good to relax.

Your co-star leans towards you. "So, how's your Australian?" he asks. You smile at the thought of Oscar, reaching for your phone and opening up your photos. You slide through them, showing pictures of your boyfriend. What you don't notice is the flashing camera of the paparazzi. All they capture is you and your co-star sitting closely as you smile at him.

If you felt a strain in your relationship before you felt it now.

The tension reaches a boiling point when a rumor spreads that you were seen with a co-star, leading to speculation about your loyalty to Oscar. The headlines scream: "Trouble in Paradise for Y/n and Oscar?"

Oscar sees the news and feels his insecurities flare up. That evening, he calls you, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

"Is it true?" he asks, skipping the usual pleasantries.

"Is what true?" you reply, confused.

"That you’re getting close to your co-star? The media is having a field day with it," Oscar says, his voice tight.

Your heart sinks. "Oscar, no. It’s just a rumor. You know how the media is. Please, don’t let them get to you."

Oscar's tone remains skeptical. "How can I be sure, Y/n? These pictures don't lie."

You feel a pang of hurt. "Oscar, please believe me. I would never hurt you like that."

There's a tense silence on the other end of the line before Oscar speaks again, his voice strained. "I need some time to think. I'll talk to you later."

The line goes dead, leaving you feeling shaken. As you hang up the phone, a sense of dread settles over you, wondering if your love for each other will be enough to overcome the doubts and rumors swirling around you.

-

Unable to bear the weight of uncertainty any longer, Oscar decides to confront you about the photo. He knows he needs to hear the truth from you, even if it's painful.

He knocks on your trailer door, and you open it, your eye bags dark and your eyes watery, signaling the stress you've been under. There's a palpable tension in the air. Oscar's expression is guarded, but it softens as he looks at you, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Your eyes widen, wanting to jump into his arms and seek comfort in his warmth, but you hold yourself back.

"Y/n, we need to talk," he says, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and frustration.

You nod silently, gesturing for him to follow you to a more private spot away from prying eyes.

Once you're alone, Oscar confronts you about the photo, his words tinged with accusation. "What's going on, Y/n? I thought you said there was nothing between you and your co-star."

You feel a pang of guilt at the hurt in Oscar's eyes. "Oscar, I swear it's not what it looks like," you begin, but he interrupts you, his tone tinged with bitterness.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Y/n. This isn't the first time I've heard rumors about you and him," he says, his voice trembling with emotion.

You reach out to touch his arm, desperate to convey the sincerity of your words. "Oscar, please, you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and my co-star. You're the only one I care about," you plead, your voice cracking with emotion.

Oscar's gaze softens slightly at your words, but the hurt in his eyes remains. "I want to believe you, Y/n, but it's hard when there's evidence like this," he says, gesturing towards the photo on his phone.

You feel a sense of despair wash over you, realizing the gravity of the situation. The trust between you and Oscar hangs in the balance, and you're not sure if it's enough to salvage your relationship.

Your lip trembles as you continue, "I didn't cheat." you tell him, "he opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. "And the fact you think I would, is horrible, is that how little you think of me Oscar?" you ask, he swallows, he had his answer.

"I'm sorry I don't know what got into me," he says, you reach for him, hugging him tightly. You hide your face in his neck as he rests his head on yours, rubbing your back to calm you down.

You pull away, whispering, "I've missed you so much," before crashing your lips onto his. There's a newfound urgency in your kiss, and Oscar holds your waist while your hands rest on his cheeks. As the intensity of the moment builds, your shirt lifts slightly, exposing your skin. Oscar's cold hands touch your waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles.

Y/n," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, "I'm sorry. I let my insecurities get the best of me. I should have trusted you."

You reach up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. "Oscar, it's okay. We're both human, and we make mistakes. What matters is that we're here, together, now."

He nods, a weight lifting off his shoulders as he exhales deeply. "I love you, Y/n. I trust you."

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed with emotion. "I love you too, Oscar. More than anything."

@willowpains @ilovefictionalm3n

#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri angst #o #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you

[dinogoofymutated]

Hey! I wanted to make a request but I wanna state right away that if you're simply not comfy with it or don't vibe with it - I completely understand!

I'm on my period rn and wanna request some SFW or NSFW head-canons with Kurt comforting F!Reader while on their period. (Totally understand if NSFW wouldn't be your thing for this. Just any comfort HCs at all would thrill me. <3)

I just can't stop thinking about him applying gentle pressure with his hand to my lower abdomen like a heating pad. I feel like he'd be so sweet. Furball cuddles for the win.

Extra note: Your writing is lovely and thank you so much for your posts. They bring me joy and I even reread some of them a few times. I hope you're having a good day/night and I'm sorry for the long ramble. Remember to take care of yourself and drink plenty of water 💜🫂

SFW! Nightcrawler/ AFAB! reader - Period HCs It's finally here!! I'm sorry it too me so long to get to this ask lol. Hope you enjoy! TWS!: depictions/descriptions of Menstrual Cycle, Blood, staining the sheets on accident. Cramps. Please do not read if you're not comfortable.

Kurt 1000000% is one of the best marvel characters when it comes to making sure his S/O is taken care of.

He's thoughtful and cuddly, and he definitely runs hot, so he's quite literally a heating pad/blanket. He hates the fact that you are in pain, even though it's a regular biological thing that happens to so many. He provides for you in any way that he can when you're on your period, making you food, running to the store, making sure you're hydrated and taking your meds.

You tell him to jump, he'll always ask how high.

And he's comfortable buying pads/tampons for you too! He memorised the brand and size you get after the first time you had your period while dating him, and he does his best to remember when you change that too!

He will also buy you the snacks you crave while on your period and will never let you pay him back.

Don't be embarrassed about your period around him. He's seen blood before, and just because it's coming from a vagina instead of a wound doesn't make it disgusting. He respects your boundaries during your period, and has a lot of patience with you if you're the type to get mood swings. He just loves you a lot, and if that includes uncomfortable menstrual cycles from time to time, he's more than willing to accommodate you however you need.

    You felt extra groggy waking up this morning. You can’t go back to sleep, but opening your eyes felt like an absolute chore. You didn’t feel well- and you can’t place why at first. You groggily sigh, uncomfortable even in bed, and are immediately comforted by a three-fingered hand soothingly petting your hair.

    “Good morning, Schatz.” His voice is soft and sweet. Even in your pain, you smile at him, trying to keep your eyes open just so that you can see him.

    “Mornin’ “ You sigh, leaning into his touch. 

    “Are you feeling well?” Kurt asks, ever the attentive sweetheart. You shake your head at him, moving closer to him so that you can snuggle into his chest. He’s warm and comforting. His tail wraps around you snugly, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. After cuddling for a while, your stomach growls, and Kurt chuckles. He mentions something about breakfast you’re a little too sleepy to remember and gives you a chaste peck before he pulls back the covers and gets out of bed.

    You only feel his weight on the bed shift a little before he seems to freeze abruptly. 

    “Is everything okay?” You ask, slowly blinking your eyes open to see what was the matter. Kurt has this soft, concerned look on his face as he looks at the bed, and then at you, turning to sit sideways where he can face you.

    “Love, you're bleeding.” He tells you. You look at him in confusion for a second, before you suddenly recognise that awful sticky wetness between your legs, and bolt straight up. You rip the blankets off, horrified at the sight of blood staining the sheets.

     “I'm so, so sorry, Kurt!” You say, frantically trying to sit up and get moving.   “- I promise I'll clean up and-”

    “Why would I make you do that?” Kurt immediately cuts you off, setting his hands on your shoulders to settle you. “You didn't do it on purpose.” He states. You don’t actually know how to respond, both embarrassed at the circumstances and thankful he’s not mad at you. 

    “I’ll start the shower for you. Just wash up and let me take care of everything else, okay?” Kurt says, taking your hands in his own before he stands. He kisses you again before he’s gone in a cloud of smoke.

    The water is the perfect temperature when you step inside, warm and cozy. You debate on turning the water scalding hot, still trying to shake off the embarrassment, but you don’t. Your cramps become more and more noticeable while you’re in the shower, causing you to ache once you finally shut off the stream. There's a fresh, fluffy towel and a new set of pajamas waiting for you when you step out- ones that Kurt must have teleported in without you noticing. The thought makes you smile.

   Kurt had replaced the bedsheets and re-made the bed while you were in the shower, also laying your weighted blanket across the bed. He’s not in the room right now, but that doesn't stop you from curling up under the fluffy cover immediately. You’re so thankful you swear to yourself that you were gonna repay Kurt ten times over with whatever he could possibly want, already knowing that he’d tell you to not worry about it.

   You’re lightly dozing, curled up in the fetal position under the covers to fight your cramps when Kurt teleports to your bedside. He’s got a tray of food in one hand with a glass of water in the other. You sit up when he sets it down on the bedside table, and he sits next to you had he hands you the glass, holding out pain meds in his other hand.

    “You know how much medicine I take?” You ask, smiling sweetly at him. He’s grinning, his tail swaying back and forth on the bed.

    “Why wouldn't I? It's the same amount every time.” Kurt says, tilting his head at you. You quickly take the medicine before you get too sidetracked, and the moment the glass of water is set to the side you pull him in for a kiss that he eagerly returns.

    “You’re the best, You know that?” You tell him, and all Kurt does is chuckle. He crawls under the covers with you, sitting by your side as the two of you eat breakfast together. When you’re done, He lays back down with you, setting his warm hand on your lower stomach as he spoons you from behind, pressing gentle kisses to the back of your neck. You’re already feeling better when you drift back to sleep again in his secure, comforting embrace.

#x men #x men 97 #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x men #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner headcannons #nightcrawler head cannons #marvel x men #marvel #marvel headcannons #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert

[carmenized-onions]

Ad Interim. | No Service

logline; The days and doubts and desires; the air, underneath the shoe.

[!!!] series history, this is the ninth; the amount of links are getting nauseating just go to the landing LMAO.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. I listen to this playlist too much in my day to day now, fr.

portion; 3k+

possible allergies; you're almost ten chapters in, you know very well by now that these two are rife with anxiety and insecurity.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (gets she/her'd mb)

fun fact: i finished this one 19 hours after the last chapter, whoops, but let it sit in my drafts to give some breathing room and do some rework

It is t-minus three days, until the worst Friday of your life.

But today’s Tuesday, and though you feel a touch uneasy, you figure it’s probably just the breakfast from yesterday at La Mattina settling in your stomach— Or, at least, hope it is.

You’re at home, sitting on your couch, pensive, haggard, leaned over. Elbows to knees, prayer hands to face, staring at your phone on the coffee table in front of you.

Just send it. Just send the text. Don’t be a fucking wuss. You’ve re-written it in your notes app like five fucking times— He does not care this much, he doesn’t even have basic reading comprehension— Okay, that’s mean— But it’s just not that deep. Just fucking! Send it!

Actually no, no, upon sixth review, the paragraph you had written out was way too intense, way too presumptive. Backspace, backspace, backspace—Just say hi. Let’s just start with Hi.

‘Yooooooooo’

Are you fucking possessed? Good Lord. How is he already typing he never used to reply this fast, what the fuck—

‘Are u fucking haunted?’

‘Fuck is yooooooo’

‘Yooo to you too, cousin’

Faster texter now, but Richie is still the same guy, at the end of the day.

‘this is a loaded fucking question’

‘but do you think you’ll be free any time this week?’

‘not unless ur dead or dying’

‘are you dead or dying?’

‘not that I’ve heard’

‘but I was thinking maybe we could like, get food or smth’

‘chat one on one. Been a minute, yknow’

That was too much. You didn’t need to do all that. Now he’s gonna go well who’s fault is that? And it’s yours. You know it’s yours. And then you’re gonna have that fucking conversation— Which is what this whole meet up thing was supposed to be about in the first place—

‘heard’

‘can’t get time off but fak needs to have his training wheels ripped’

‘could have dinner at the bear this week? Like 2 hours. Then I can watch him and keep him from shitting the bed’

‘and still get to do a fucking one on one, you corporate speak ass’

‘I didn’t know how else to fucking say it alright!!!!!!’

‘Dinner @ bear sounds good to me’

‘but probably ask carm/syd first if it’s cool’

‘yea yea I’ll fuckin check in with daddy don’t worry’

‘that sucked for me. That sucked to read. Go to jail.’

‘already have.’

‘I’ll let u know a time when I know. See u chip’

You heart it. The classic signal that it’s the end of a conversation. Holy shit. You did it. You actually texted someone that you miss that you miss them— Not directly, but you know Rich knows. And specifically, to book a dinner, to talk about what happened, to apologize for it. That’s pretty fucking huge. Which means—

It’s time to eat a whole freezer cake and lay in your pyjamas all day and interact with not a single soul on this entire planet. You’re absolutely at your social limit, for the day. Maybe you’ll talk it through with Mikey, actually. To the air, more accurately, but, y’know, same thing.

You’re gonna get dinner with Richie. You’re gonna get dinner, with Richie, this Friday. And it’s not gonna be awkward or weird, at all.

It is t-minus two days, until the worst Friday of Carmen’s life, so far, at least. There’s always next year.

But today’s Wednesday, and though he feels a little nerve-wracked, he’s pretty sure it’s just because the kitchen was so fucking dysfunctional this morning, and now that their prep’s off, the tempo of the whole fucking day is off, and they're behind on two tables. And fucking seriously this time, can someone get him a fucking marker that fucking works.

Okay, maybe it’s a little more, than nerve wracked.

Sydney is ever the intuitive, and always correct, at the station next to him— Because yes, they’re still down a hire since the meth guy, so now Carmen is on line.

She can tell, that somethings wrong with him, something’s always wrong with him. “Take your ten, Chef.”

Carmen shakes his head, obviously, there’s still prep to catch up on. And if he doesn't do it, it's not gonna get done, and even if it does get done, it's not gonna get done right. He’s pressing the dead sharpie down on the tape, like if he just brute forces it, it’ll start to work. “M’good, Chef.”

“Carmen.” She turns to him fully, stopping her work. And so, he does too. “Take your fucking ten.” She deadpans, she’s not taking no for an answer. She rubs her fist over her heart.

Carmen takes a beat, before nodding, doing the same. “Heard, Chef.”

He needs to look over expense reports that he can’t quite comprehend, anyways.

He really needs his sister. He steps into his office. Despite the fact that they re-constructed just about everything in the restaurant, this musty office remains the same. Untouched. After caving down walls, they had to cut the budget somewhere. He’s glad though, that it's untouched. It might be crowded, poorly organized, have an off smell (probably because of the birth in here, just a few weeks back), but it’s exactly as his brother left it, and that helps him feel… Connected, somehow.

What the hell is Var vs Budget? He’s googling every other word, here. He’s more than grateful, that before going home on mat leave, Sug set up a good enough automated Excel sheet that he could just plug in numbers and it did all the calculating for him. Doesn’t mean he knows what any of the numbers mean, but, they’re there.

He knows that red equals bad. Natalie told him that very specifically. Which did seem like she was calling him fucking stupid, but he let it go. There’s a lot of red. That’s a lot of bad. Well, not a lot, but like, a third of this is red. That’s probably more than it should be. How many months do they have again? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He is never gonna get to pay himself, he’s never gonna be able to pay Syd, he's never gonna get her a star, she’s gonna live with her dad for the rest of her life, you are never gonna get to work here, you’re gonna work as a bottle girl for the rest of your life, he’s never gonna get his shit together so he’s never gonna get to call you his, he’s gonna have to hand the deed to Cicero and then fucking everyone is gonna to lose their jobs and he’s still gonna be him. He’s still gonna be him. Carmy Berzatto, the chef that lost everything, little brother to everyone's hero who blew his brains out. Starless in Chicago, unable to feel anything more than sorry for himself. Carmen’s gonna die as Carmen, and nothing more. At the end of the day.

Take a deep breath, Bear. Relax.

He’s catastrophizing. You told him that. He forgot to look into it. He googles that, instead of another business term he doesn’t understand.

‘Fixates on the worst possible outcome and treats it as likely, even when it is not.’

Well, it does seem pretty fucking likely that he’s doomed to fail and fall into a Sisyphean nightmare of opening restaurants and falling on his fucking face, dragging everyone he loves down with him with his stupid failed pipe dreams. He's no better than his brother.

He tries his best to think of whatever level-headed bullshit you'd give to him, right now, tries to taste the hot chocolate, the lavender and cardamom coffee. He smells your shampoo, in his hair, that helps.

Maybe, maybe it’s just been a bad week. Maybe there will be a lot of bad weeks, maybe there won’t be. Maybe things will be fine, maybe they won’t. You and Syd will still succeed, even if he fails. Everyone will, even if he fails. He has a very capable crew. And while he cannot escape the thought that failure is around the corner, at the very least, he is comforted by the idea that at least he will be the only one sinking with the ship he commands.

The thought of drowning alone is still impossible to rid of. Though.

But you’ve sent a text. And isn’t that a wonderful distraction?

Your connection results in response to his, from this morning, of course. You actually got it today. He swells with what feels like pride, and despite the fact that no one's looking at him, he has to hide his smile with his hand, embarrassed by how happy he is, when he sees the photo you’ve sent, just now. A selfie, sitting next to an oven, Other Tony’s oven. You’re holding a fried wire in your hand.

The text below it is a wonderful salve, ‘If you ever fuck up your ovens, I’ve got like, 10 thermocouples in my personal stock now :))’

So good to him, too good to him. Too good to anyone. ‘Heard.’

Carmen so, so fucking desperately wants to ask you to come to The Bear, right now. You’re only two blocks away, at La Mattina. You’d come, if he asked. He knows that. But he also knows that even if you calm him down, in the long run, it’ll set his day even further off tempo, he’ll be distracted the rest of his shift, and that’s the last thing he needs. He can handle this himself.

‘:)’ For levity. Or something. He’s trying. You give it a heart, so that means he’s done something good, he’s pretty sure.

There’s a knock at his door. Richie does not wait for an answer before coming in. His knocks are more like warnings, really. Carmen’s quick to tuck his phone away, he knows it’d be perfect cannon fodder to be teased into oblivion.

“Aye, cous—”

Carmen does not let the man get a word in inch wise, “Who’s on expo?”

Richie grimaces, this fucking song and dance, again. “Syd.”

“Who’s on her station, then?”

“T.”

“And hers?”

“She’s doin’ fuckin’ both Carmy— And—” Richie pulls a sharpie out of his breast pocket, throwing it at him. Carmen catches it. “Fuckin’ works. Alright?”

Marker works, and the system works. He catches the double meaning, too. Carmen nods, “Heard.”

“Christ.” Richie looks to high heaven, looks to his best friend, really, to give him strength. “Can I take my fuckin’ turn now?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ‘head.” Carmen turns to his desk, looking over the excel sheet, again. He can’t imagine Richie needing all of his undivided attention, right now, he’s not you.

Speaking of you, he can’t find your repair expenses anywhere on here. He needs to text Sug, about that. No, she’s got a fucking baby, he’ll at least look for a physical copy, first.

“I need to take two hours, on Friday.”

“Huh?” Carm’s head snaps up. Okay, maybe he does need to give his full attention to Richie, right now. “Eva got a fuckin’ recital, or somethin’?”

“No, no, uh— Chip wants to get dinner.” Rich scratches his nose with his thumb. “Thought since Fak's been training to host f'like, the whole fuckin’ month, could do dinner 'ere, let him do a run on us. Two birds, one bullet, y’know.”

“It’s stone.”

“I’m not fuckin’ high, cousin—” “No, it’s— Alright.” Carmen closes his eyes, hand over his face, deciding this is not the fight he wants to choose. “Tony’s getting dinner with you?”

“If I’m allowed, your fuckin’ Majesty.”

If it were up to Carmen? He wouldn’t be. But you specifically asked. Why, he has no idea. Carmen crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah, s’fine. Just start at like, a not peak time. Like 4:30? Then when rush starts after 5 Fak’ll have a lil' momentum.”

“Heard. I’ll tell ‘em.” Richie nods, turning to make his way out.

Carm’s leg bounces, a tick that he’s pretty sure he’ll never get rid of. “… Ey Rich?”

He stops, turning back to Carmy, “Yeah, cousin?”

Carmen taps the end of the sharpie on the table, not looking at Richie, “What’s uh— Why d’you call Tony ‘Chip’?”

Ever so slightly, Richie’s brows furrow. “Did'j'ya ask her?”

Carm shakes his head, “S’why I’m asking you.”

Richie takes a beat, head rocking to the side, “Y'should ask her, she’ll tell you.”

Carmy squints, at that, “Is it fuckin’ dark or somethin’, cousin?”

What’s so secretive about Chip? He figured it would be some stupid inside joke with chocolate chips, like Sug with the salt mix up. Richie swallows, frowning just a bit. He clearly does not know how to answer this question, which just makes Carmen even more curious.

“S’ not dark, kinda, it’s just, y’know. Personal.” Since when the fuck did Richie have respect for personal? Probably since he sent him to stage. Goddammit.

“Did you not coin it?”

“Mikey did.”

Oh.

Huh.

Mikey got to do that first, too, eh?

“But, y’know, ask her, she likes you well enough to tell you, I think.” Richie shrugs, palms out. “Kinda tells stories like that better than me, anyways.” That's high praise— Not in the sense that Richie's a great storyteller, but that he's willing to admit it, for you.

“Oh, she doesn’t bury the fuckin’ lead?”

“Oh, fuck you.” But it’s true, so Richie’s amused. There’s something nice, about being known. Even if it’s to tease.

There’s a lull of silence. Quite frankly, Carmen’s hoping that Richie’s general disdain of silence will force him to confess your nickname backstory, just to fill the void. It doesn’t. Instead, it just gears him up, in the worst way, able to read the look on Carmen’s face.

“You really wanna fuckin know, huh?” Richie tilts down his head, teasing. Carmen groans. Oh dear god, why him. “Oh, fuck, you fuckin’ like her, don’t’chu, cousin? You fuckin’ dog.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rich—”

“Aye, Chip’s a real catch, I gettit— Works hard, plays nice, cleans up good— Y’have my blessing.”

“Didn’t ask for it.”

“Aye,” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen like he could smite him. “Don’t gimme no talk back, she was my boy first, a’right? One bad word from me, n’ your lil’ fantasy—” He gestures an explosion with his hand, making a ‘pop’ sound with his lips.

“Gone, cousin.”

Carmen leans back in his seat, playing with the sharpie in his hand. He’s essentially Kubrick staring down Richie, but the guy is unaffected. “Friday, 4:30, two hours. If Fak fucks up, you’re on deck.”

“Heard.”

“Jeff, can I please get an all day, baby?” Baby is Tina’s new HR approved version of ‘for the love of fucking god’ She’s definitely at her limit, meaning Syd’s definitely at her limit on expo. Richie starts to step out, walking backwards.

“You comin’ cousin?”

Carm scratches his nose, straightening up back to his desk. He wishes he could go back to the kitchen, where he knows he’s good, instead of in here, with some goddamn spreadsheets that he cannot comprehend beyond bad. “Uh, one sec, I just need to finish this fuckin’—” He shakes his hand in the air, “Whatever the fuck this is.”

Richie nods, tapping the doorway on his way out. “Heard… g’luck.”

Carmen does not look at the spreadsheets. No. He thinks. He doesn't think about business.

That wasn’t true, was it? A phone call from Richie wouldn’t be the end of him, end of you, would it? Carmen is on the losing playing field here, practically everyone here has more history with you than he does. If he had a… lapse in behaviour, and it got back to you, would that ruin him? God, even his work family ruins things for him. Or could. Which means they will. Catastrophizing.

Whatever. What the fuck ever. He needs to find your invoice. After some flipping through last month’s file, he finds a sticky note from Sug between loose pages.

‘reminder: ask carmy 4 tony invoice’

He squints. You said Nat took care of it. Maybe it’s an old sticky note, he’ll text her about it, it’ll be a solid forty hours before he’ll get a response, anyways. Mom stuff. He really needs to go visit his niece again, soon. Maybe this weekend. Take Richie’s car. But then he'll probably will be forced to take Richie, too. Maybe he should just ask you, instead. Let Nat thank you for the heating pad she’s been loving, properly. Have dinner, all together, in an actual family home, instead of just each other's apartments. That'd be nice.

Yeah. Yeah. He’ll ask you on Friday, when you come for dinner. He grabs a pad of paper, biting the cap off his sharpie. He’ll make you something off menu, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, anyways, he’ll have time to play, on Friday.

He’s gonna do right by you, this Friday.

Tomorrow, you’ll be getting dinner with Richie, and it’ll be the worst Friday of your life.

But right now, it’s Thursday night, and you’ve finally finished Carmen’s piece for The Bear. You know you told him if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to put it up, but admittedly, if he doesn’t like it, you will be crushed.

One big white canvas.

Nine perfect squares, perfectly equidistant from each other at all angles.

Each square a snippet, a photo transfer. The squares themselves are messy, sun damaged, bleach stained, light flared. All twinged blue and yellowish. But so perfectly cut and curated.

Each image, something new. Starting at the top left, it’s The Original Beef. Then, the inside. Then the booths.

Then the second row, the sandwiches, held in hands.

The center photo. You've taken almost all of these photos on a disposable from yesteryear, but this is the one you like the most.

Mikey. The only transfer completely unbleached, unaltered, unruined. He’s holding two cut outs. One, Food & Wine and the other, a small section in the off off off pages of the New York Times.

Both specifically the one’s that mentioned Carmen, winning Best Chef and the James Beard.

Mikey was so proud. So so proud, silently, just with you— Couldn't look soft. Carmen does not know this photo exists. No one does. You hope this piece will act as the catalyst for you to be able to talk about the elephant in the room you’ve yet to open for him.

Right next to Mikey, is a balloon on a pipe— A photo you grabbed from Sydney and printed. You can only imagine the stress you could’ve eased, during their fire safety test. C’est la vie. Fak got to prove himself.

And on the last row, the new, ritzy, booths. The Seven Fishes dish— Also a photo you stole from Sydney. And finally, The Bear’s sign. Taken at night, lit up in all its neon glory.

Though the images are disconnected, starting from Mikey in the center— Clean, the flaring and staining grows more intense at the pictures in the corner. Just bordering on illegible. It all feels interconnected, woven.

It’s Carmen. Or, at least, you think it is. That’s what you were trying to achieve. You took inspiration from the way his brain works, the way he cooks messy but produces orderly, the way he’s grown something out of what was barely more than nothing. The way love and grief is at the center of everything. He’s awfully inspiring.

You’re excited, to show this to him tomorrow, on Friday. Hopefully all goes well, on Friday. You’re coming before the rush, you’ll probably have a little time to talk, on Friday. You won’t be able to get into everything, no, you’ve promised most of your bandwidth to Richie, but you’ll make a good start, on Friday.

You’re gonna do right, by Carmen, on Friday.

Tomorrow.

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

i've still got 2k of beats to cover for the next chapter, and have 7.9k already written out, for it. This is going to be fun. lmao. I'm genuinely very very excited for you to see it, when it comes out. Cannot believe I thought like 4 chapters ago that'd this next chapter would be the one to be released next. I almost briefed over all of these past few chapters to be nothing more than snippets in a chapter, I would never forgive myself if i went through with that plan, fr.

Anyways, no time for the future, this is NOW!! I hope I described Tony's paintin' good. I think it'd be nice. MBMBAM reference in the intro, are you fucking HAUNTED? ARE YOU FUCKING POSESSED? Love griffy, had to. Carmen CANNOT stop having anxiety attacks, someone get him on prozac frfr.

Tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my hat, I'm gonna need some words to chew on while I write, anyways. Hitting a wall choreographing this back half of chapter ten my GOD. Also oh yeah, silly aesthetic thing. I dunno if anyone noticed or cared, but i do a different ombre banner when it's carmen's perspec-- Did it last chapter too, aint that cute?

Also, I must finally give in, I was lazy to do taglists, but have folded, so here u are mfs. If you'd like to be added, you gotta leave me an essay somewhere. It's the RULES! Well, leave an essay and also ask to be added to the taglist that is but IT'S THE RULES!!

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101

fully added people that never asked to be on here, you're just like, top fans, so i thought it would be nice, but if you WANT TO BE TAKEN OFF LET ME KNOW I'LL DO IT IMMEDIATELY ALSO IF I'M FORGETTING ANYONE WHO ASKED PLEASE DO REMIND ME

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen x oc #carmen berzatto x female reader #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear #fanfic series

[keis-slut]

promise|k.tsukishima

CW: FINGERING, SLIGHT DEGRADING

Reader POV

‘let me be your boyfriend!’ he said, his immature voice echoing in my head.

“we’re still kids, tsukki, we can’t date!”

i respond back, my little kid brain not correctly processing how to even date.

that was an adult thing, right?

“then, i promise, when we’re older…-“

i remember the look in his eyes so perfectly, the innocent but promising stare he held on my younger form.

“-i’ll be your boyfriend”

still, even now, my stomach turns when i’m around him.

he’s probably forgotten what he said to me that night,

but i never did.

i never could, not when i started to look at him differently.

i couldnt bring myself to remind him of it either, what if he was dismissive? or he laughed, and said it was just a game, an irrelevant thing he had just said as a kid? what if he rejected me?

what if the promise meant nothing?

what if he forgot?

maybe i was so afraid of it meaning nothing, because deep down i already knew it did.

it hurt even more, because i’ve thought about distancing myself to possibly control the feelings a bit better, but i could never bring myself to be away from him.

especially when he was so cold to others, yet his demeanor was so much softer around me.

but still, he’s changed into a very different person compared to when we were younger.

he use to be so bubbly, energetic and optimistic, and now,

distant and quiet, careful. too careful.

i haven’t changed, i’m still the same, he would tell me.

to this day, still don’t really know if he meant that in a good or bad way, but maybe that was just anxiety.

my eyes faltered from his wall, to focus on him waving at me from his desk, white headphones sloppily sitting around his neck.

i blink and reach up to remove my headphones.

“hm?” i raise a brow

“been trying to get your attention for like, eight years”

you and me both, my head echoes.

i laugh and pause my music, shifting on his bed.

“sorry, lost in thought”

i respond nonchalantly, and i watch him remove his headphones from around his neck, placing them on his desk.

he sighs and turns off his desk lamp, then see him stand from his chair.

“are you done for tonight? do you want me to leave?”

he drags his feet over to the bed next to me, and sits down, removing his glasses and rubbing his face tiredly.

i move my body to face him, legs crossed as my knee high socks started to roll down messily.

my whole being felt a mess right now, my overthinking mind, my hair was crazed from how i wore my headphones, i was wearing one of his sweaters, very baggy on me because of how tall he was compared to my height.

“no”

he said, once he was done fixing his glasses, running hands through his messy and overgrown blonde hair.

i felt my chest thump a little harder, my breath hitching suddenly.

“you need rest, i can’t just linger”

he sighs and looks up at me.

“yea you can, you do it anyway”

he throws me a mischievous smirk, and my eyes widen.

“shut up, you’re the one that asked me to come over to keep you company while you studied!”

he raised a hand and poked at my forehead, hard enough to send me back on his bed slightly, having me catch myself with my arm.

“you shut up, you’ll wake my mother raising your voice like that”

i scoffed playfully and pushed myself back up, shoving his shoulder for pushing me first.

“whatever, dickhead. why do you need my company anyway?”

i ask, crossing my arms as i face him, his legs still dangling off his bed as he slouched.

his head turned to me as he cocked an eyebrow.

“why do you need mine? same reason”

i cocked an eyedbrow right back at him, laughing slightly.

“i doubt it’s the same reason as me”

he turns his body on the bed, now fully facing me.

“why? what’s your reason for wanting me around?”

my face warms up slightly, and i avert my gaze.

“i just do. we’ve always been together anyway, it’s just normal”

he laughs,

“right”

i face him angrily and place my hands on his bed, leaning in his face.

“what do you mean ‘right’?!”

“stop yelling, y/n, jeez…”

my face flushes embarrassingly, and i lean back again.

“does this have something to do with why you were having a staring contest with my wall?”

i think for a moment, wondering if i should bring it up.

i was worried, terrified even, that he wouldn’t remember.

or he would, and just laugh it off like a joke.

but doing nothing would also bother me.

at least if we talked about it, having some kind of answer was better than none.

“shortcake, oi-”

“-do you remember what you said that night, when we were kids?”

i cut him off, and he was taken aback slightly as he raised a brow.

“which time? we were kids, we always said stupid shit”

my heart already hurt just a bit as he said that, and i sigh, feeling defeated.

but i still continued.

“the promise, tsukki”

i build enough courage to look up at his golden eyes, staring at me as if he recalled.

or, already knew what i was talking about the whole time.

but he didn’t respond, so i sighed heavily, and went to get up from his bed, ready to gather my things and go.

but he grabbed my fingers to stop me from moving.

“and where are you going?”

i turned back to face him as my heart leaped from my chest, butterflies chaotic in my stomach when he touched me so suddenly.

“home”

i respond blankly, but i didn’t move, i didn’t pull my hand from his.

“do you remember what you said back to me?”

he asked, and i slightly turn my body back to face him, as i stood by his bed.

“what?”

he rolled his eyes playfully, teasing me for not keeping up.

“when i promised”

my body pulsed when he said it himself, hearing it in his voice, past his lips, the promise.

i carefully sat back down on the bed next to him, keeping his gaze on mine.

i knew my face was so flushed, it was embarrassing.

i didn’t remember what i said, i only remembered what he said to me,

and i wanted to know what came next.

he leaned forward, so out of character for him, but i didn’t oppose.

in fact, i leaned with him.

“maybe this’ll help-”

he started to say, as he turned his head and placed a kiss on my cheek.

“-you remember”

he places another one, a little bit harder as my hand found its way to the back of his head.

i felt him get carried away, as he kissed lower, down my jaw, under my chin.

my body pulled itself closer to his as he leaned into me, slender arm snaking around my waist to my lower back.

“you kissed-”

he gave me another kiss down my neck, peppering them all over as if he couldn’t get enough.

“-my cheek-”

he sighed heavily as he tried to catch his breath, feeling him hot against my neck, voice loud in my ear.

his other hand looped around my waist too, so he was now holding me, pulling me closer.

“-and said-”

it all came back to me as he kissed my cheek again, dangerously close to my lips.

i sighed, moaning slightly as he gripped onto my hips tighter.

“-i’ll wait for you”

we both said, almost in unison as his golden orbs caught mine.

our noses touched as we just stayed there, anticipating a kiss, my body tingling at his touch, the closeness,

this was happening.

i lean forward a bit, just barely grazing his lips as he wouldn’t allow me to kiss him first.

“i don’t know how much longer i can wait, tsukki”

i whine against his lips, and he smirks.

“don’t have to”

he moves forward, parting his lips as he hungrily catches mine.

i jump onto him, immediately opening my mouth to kiss back.

i straddled his lap as his hands did what they wanted, up and down my back, just barely respecting the boundary on my lower back to my ass.

i immediately lift myself, telling him it was okay, practically placing myself in his larger hands as he felt me.

my hands pulled at his hair a bit, my body pressed against his torso as i was much smaller than him.

the kiss was hot, so heavy and filled with tongue, a little biting here and there, or now, where he had my tongue trapped between his lips.

my mouth hung open as he sucked and kissed as much of me as he could, his hands holding onto the bottom of my thighs.

i whimpered and cried into his mouth, doing my best to ask for more.

and he responded, his fingers grazing so horrifyingly close to between my legs.

i broke our messy kiss for a second, shifting my body so i was now adjusting myself atop his hand.

“you’re right, i’m not waiting anymore”

i say, incredibly out of breath as i leaned my forehead on his.

one of his hands gripped my ass, pulling my cheek apart so it was easier to move my shorts to the side.

i lifted myself on my knees, and back down to have him feel the mess he created.

“thought you wanted to be my girlfriend, not a needy slut for my fingers”

i collapsed against him as i felt a finger slip in, immediately tightening.

he kissed against my neck again, nipping at my skin when i felt another finger.

he curls them, and i moan into his shoulder, rolling my hips, bringing my body up and down, anything i could to feel him,

i was desperate.

“that comes with me being your girlfriend”

i was doing all the work, until he leaned forward, slamming my back onto his bed.

the impact had his fingers pushed deeper, and my legs shook as i cried.

his body pushed one of my legs up, hanging over his shoulder as his fingers sunk into my cunt.

“oh, so you’re my girlfriend now?”

he teased, enjoying the look on my face as his fingers fucked me senseless.

through wild whimpers and moans, i chuckle.

“yes, i am”

he smirks, slowing his hand down and pulling out slightly.

he pauses, leaving my hips to twitch with need.

he pushes them back in, curling them deeply and flicking them just to force me to come undone.

“good”

#smut writing #writers on tumblr #wattpad #smut writer #writer stuff #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #haikyuu!! #tsukishima x you #tsukkishima x reader #tsukki x reader #hq tsukki #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #haikyuu tsukishima #kei tsukishima #hq smut #haikyū!! #haikyu smut #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff

[my-love-is-sunlight]

A princess armor

Zoro x princess!reader

fem reader described as being born a woman, fluff, mentions of misogyny in reader’s past

1.5k words

Tagging: @alucardsdaddyissues

When you heard about some group of pirates docking on your island you didn’t quite expected them to rescue you, after all, you hated to be seen as a damsel in distress

Nonetheless,there was nothing wrong in asking for help. And hell you needed it

Being born a woman and the only heir to your fathers throne had turned your life into a living hell since you can recall; overlooked, treated like a decoration only expected to marry rich and powerful, your father ever cold and absent hated your mere existence, a remainder of his failure to continue his strong lineage because no matter what you did you were never enough

And hell you had worked so hard to impress that old man; you were a remarkable fencer, excelling in every topic of conversation you had been educated in, always being praised by your strategy abilities and expected to be the perfect queen by this alone. The list of your achievements was long, an overachiever if you will… but he never cared, what can any of that be of use in the body of a woman?

You hid your emphatic and kind heart under a strong cold armor to protect yourself from the cruel world around you; still, Monkey D. Luffy was able to tear trough it, offering him and his crew a sympathetic hand

You thought you were helping them, turns out they were helping you. The moment the colorful crew heard about your life behind the walls of the castle and your fathers evil empire, they didn’t hesitate in taking you in, after all you had been more than helpful and kind

So you escaped joining them as the strategist and diplomat for the crew, finally free from expectations, slowly taking your armor off before it had rusted into you forever

“What can a princess know about fighting anyway?” Zoro’s voice is sharp and quick to ambush you, you wished his opinion about you didn’t mattered, but as you are about to set sail by his side you can’t help the need to defend your case climbing quickly to your tongue

“I’ve been educated by the greatest warriors and strategist in my kingdom as I was expected to rule my nation one day”- every single word leaves your mouth like butter, an ease and confidence the swordsman perhaps didn’t expect from someone with your background, you stand proud with eyes that pierce right trough his being and eyebrows scrunched down without a drop of a doubt making him shiver.- “Believe me Mr. Roronoa, I am more than capable”

And that was no lie. Every since your arrival to the crew, the strawhats found themselves winning their battles with much ease and organization; the number of injuries after battle dropped immensely, your time in the battlefield reduced in half and no one was getting lost, the latter being resolved by planting you beside the stubborn green haired swordsman that was obviously not happy about this new routine

“Stop following me, princess” he grumbled, your step quickening at the same rythm as his which was quite the hassle from your part considering one step from Zoro was two of your own

“Stop calling me that”- your hand flies to grab on his shirt, your touch stiffening every muscle on his back and his heart skipping a beat, a feeling unwelcome and alien. As uneasy as he felt, his step never falters leading you behind him as you trot around the streets, annoyance clear on your face.- “As much as I want to continue my errands without you, I don’t want you getting lost around here, this is not a welcoming place for pirates and your face is quite recognizable”

His walking finally comes to a halt, making you quite literally crash behind him a yelp of surprise escaping through your lips.- “Fine” he finally relents

Zoro replays that evening in his head over and over as he peeks down from the crows nest, it was the first time you made his stomach turn and this strange warmth extend trough his body, and he still wonders why. While Usopp and Luffy play cards, he watches as you take the cards that the sniper was hiding on the back of his overalls making Luffy get up and bash on him as you laugh. The sound even tough muffled by the glass makes him smile, that same feeling he recalled moments ago blooming in his being once again, but he now welcomes it

So he wonders what would it take him to impress you, to make you want him as much as he wants you, you’re royalty after all. The stories of the suitors that had knocked at your door with gifts and promises still on the back of his mind sour and venomous, he compared himself to them and it dawned on him the act that he had nothing to offer you, other than his own life, was that enough for you?

Little did he know you were trying to impress him since day 1 on the ship, training day and night to earn his respect and admiration which best believe you already got more than that, yet you seemed to find yourself repeating the same pattern of your old life

“You did great back there” Zoro commented one time, before taking a swing from his beer. You turned your attention to him, admiring the way his earrings glistened with the light of the bar, a smile quick to spread on your face that you erased as fast as it came, not wanting to give yourself away

“Really? Thanks” even though your tone was nonchalant and casual your insides did a 360, relishing on your victory, after spending the last few months over training like a maniac and studying more fencing techniques had finally earned you a compliment, his compliment

Zoro’s eyes go over and over your form, as if trying to keep it in his memory to admire you even when you weren’t there which could be much easier, since the mere thought of you made him stumbling. As if in command, you look up to the crows nest, your gaze locking with his for a fleeting moment that makes Zoro loose track of thought, you offer him a sweet smile and a tiny wave which he answers by freezing for a while, then scowling and turning away from the window

Oh god

The thing about this whole tangle of gazes, feelings and smiles was that Zoro could not figure you out; you were a mystery, a concept that he can’t quite grasp even after months of knowing you and quite literally living with you on the sea. You had the elegance and gentleness of a princess out of a romance book, and the bravery and might of a warrior, all of that wrapped around your wit and beauty that had him losing his breath

He felt useless

His mind drifting to images of you while he trained, dreams by your side slipping on his sleep, his eyes glued to you in the battle field, his heart singing your name at any change it got

What can he could possibly give you that you don’t already have?

“Boo!!!”- Your voice startles him pulling him out of his daze, something he was certainly not used to, his eyes jump to your face painted with a big smile as you giggle at his expense.- “Got ya”

You sit delicately by his side, still giggling while he clicks his tongue to express his annoyance.- “That’s not really princess of you to do” you frown at the title just as he expected, his scowl turning into a proud smirk

“Stop calling me that” you turn to face the window behind both of you, looking over the deck

“Hiding from someone?” Zoro comments although he already has an idea

“Let’s just say Usopp doesn’t quite like being called out on his cheating” a honest loud laugh rumbled from the bottom of the swordsman chest, eliciting a bright smile from you, It is this moments that you treasure, moments that feed on your heart that had long belonged to him without even knowing it

The sunset beams that color the sky crash on your features, brightening your presence making Zoro’s mind wonder once again. He couldn’t understand how could you take him out of it by simply being, his eyes take another round around you, stopping at your plump lips. A new feeling takes over him, it makes his chest heavy and his breath erratic as he stops himself from crashing into them. Suddenly his doubts puddled as you sink at his side, a playful glint in your eye as his heart clenched at the thought of you seeking him while looking after a safe place

He may not be royalty, have absolutely nothing but his katanas to his name but he’ll bend the world backwards for you, and something tells him you don’t want all that fancy shit other men could offer you, you want genuine love, real love. So he savors the quiet in your company up on the crows nest, slowly letting both of you guards down to embrace each other, the armor that you once hid behind long discarded leaving you bear and free

Because whats more romantic than that?

Masterlist

#one piece #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #zoro x reader #one piece roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #op zoro #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #zoro fluff #one piece one shot #zoro one shot #one piece imagine

[vxperorchist]

Can I request, s/o ask for Intimidation act/ tips, (Cyno, Xiao, Tartaglia) they want to learn how to make a stone cold face/or a glare to scare of mens that won't leave them alone, but s/o failed miserably end up looking cute instead of intimidating.

Intimidation Act! (Cyno, Xiao, Tartaglia X Gn! Reader)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of being harassed?

I love this request so much bro it's so cute

I saw it and I was like "oh absolutely"

AND I am so sorry this took forever to upload. I was kind of in a slump BUT I'm back!

Cyno

Cyno was quite literally known for his expression, he seemed so intimidating to those who didn't know him. Luckily for you, you knew him better than anyone, and you knew how easy it was to get past his stone cold expression.

"Hey Cyno, you're always told how intimidating you look. How do I look intimidating as well?" You asked, hovering around him in your shared house.

You slung your arms over his shoulders from behind, wrapping them around his chest.

He turned his head to you, he had never thought of how he actually managed to look intimidating, as it wasn't his intention. His eyes were blank with thought.

"I'm not sure, it comes naturally for me I suppose."

He admitted blandly, no help to you whatsoever. "My demeanor probably isn't desirable; people have deemed me unapproachable." He frowned, recalling his multiple instances of people being scared of him.

"Well General Mahamatra, I think people just need to get past that demeanor of yours to see how sweet you truly are, however, I want that intimidating demeanor."

He scoffed at the name you called him and your stubbornness for something so dumb, like being intimidating. "Just frown more." He suggested, but just doing that wouldn't make you scary, just mean looking.

"Oh! I'll lock eye contact too, it makes people nervous." You added, trying the method onto your boyfriend. You ended up keeping a straight face and staring at him in the eyes. It ended up making you more nervous then anything.

"Your eyes are too pretty to be scary." He commented, smiling at you as he was maintaining eye contact with you so easily, almost as if he was reading your every thought.

He stood there with his arms crosses, shoulders pulled back and head angled. You had made many observations on him, but it was hard to copy him without looking stupid.

He seemed so effortlessly good at it as the two of you stood there for a solid few seconds, staring each other down. You came out the loser in the silent intimidation battle, your cheeks warming as he watched your every move.

"Is there a reason as to why you're trying to copy me?" He asked genuinely, readjusting his posture to be much less intimidating.

"I don't know, the merchants around Caravan Ribat make me uncomfortable sometimes, I wish they were scared of me so they wouldn't talk to me." You looked up at him, knowing most people in the desert would avoid his gaze and presence.

"Do you have names? I can make sure they're taken care of and never look at you again." His demeanor shifted to that of your gentle boyfriend, to that of his duty as Mahamatra.

"I'll be okay." You laughed at his protectiveness. Dehya already had everything covered, and always had a protective eye over you.

"I'll make sure I go with you next time, if you can't scare them off, I most certainly will." He placed a light kiss to your forehead, ending off your night.

Xiao

Xiao in many ways, was utterly terrifying. Even you were admittedly scared of him when the two of you had first met. He knew how he acted, and he paid no mind to how people perceived him. The only opinion that really mattered to him was yours.

He noticed you had been acting different as of recently. He knew your every mannerism, he was amazingly observant, and could tell when something was off.

"You're underestimating Adepti if you think I can't tell when something is different about you. What is it?"

He was onto you. You weren't acting entirely different, but a slight shift into anything revolving around you would go noticed by your adeptus.

"Your interactions are changing. Why is that?" He asked blandly. You knew how he acted and how he felt were two different things. You could understand his concern, but he would never show it.

You were scared to mention what was actually troubling you as of recently. He waited patiently for a response as you hesitated to tell him what was going on.

"I've just been bothered by a few locals. They keep harassing me in a way and I tried to take after you, I asked myself what would you do, but you don't even get harassed! People are scared of you, so I tried to copy your mannerisms."

He wanted to smile at your confession, but he couldn't put aside the part you mentioned being harassed. He was naturally protective over you, and this had really sent him over the edge.

"Where are they?" He asked, keeping everything straight to the point. He didn't need to know anything more, and even if you didn't tell him, he would find out himself.

"Xiao, it's really fine." You tried arguing with him, but it was no use. You brushed his hand lightly, it didn't go unnoticed, but he had a goal.

The next morning, he returned to you, with acts of service being his love language, he came back with a new set of flowers set on your desk.

You were upset he disappeared last night, but he was a free spirit you couldn't control.

"What happened last night?" You asked him, scared of the answer you would receive.

"I dealt with the worthless individuals." He replied blunt as ever, standing in your doorframe.

"If you ever run into trouble like that, you're supposed to call my name." You sighed, you knew you should have, but didn't want to trouble him with something like that.

"Can you teach me how to be less approachable?"

"I'm not a teacher."

You had your answer, and he was stubborn.

If he wouldn't be your teacher, you would teach yourself. You kept copying his mannerisms, and he'd roll his eyes every time he caught you doing it.

He thought it was cute, but would never admit that to you, a mortal.

At the end of the day when the two of you came back to each other and you could let your guard down, he loved seeing your smile more than anything. It brought him light to the dark life he lived.

Childe

Tartaglia was both one of the least intimidating people you knew, and most. He had his moments he could turn up the heat, making his subordinates weak in the knees, but you also knew him as the sweet, gentle, boy he could also be.

He tried his best to hide his harbinger side from you, as that wasn't your burden to deal with, but it was a part of him you couldn't ignore.

You couldn't ignore the way some of his subordinates looked at you when you were around him while he was working. Their stares made you uncomfortable, and you could hear them whispering disturbing things under their breath.

They should have known much better then to talk about a harbingers partner, as they had worked out for absolutely no one.

Tartaglia was observant, but a little oblivious to the situation, and you had tried your best to ignore it as well. You tried the tactic of an RBF, which only worked a little bit.

"It's like you're taking after me, I see the way you look at my subordinates, I've never seen you look so intimidating!" He was just a little dense.

"They make me uncomfortable." You admitted finally, and he stopped dead in his tracks as the two of you were talking while sparring.

"What do you mean? Have they done something?" He put his bow away quickly and walked over to you, caught off guard by the new information.

"Its's nothing I can't handle; they've just been staring and what not."

"Who?" He asked, almost sounding like a demand. He caught himself before he got snappy, taking a deep inhale.

You giggled at his reaction, running a hand through his hair. "Like I said, nothing I couldn't handle."

"They're still alive, so they weren't handled." He removed your hand from his hair, kissing it as he released it.

"Point them out to me, and I'll keep them after training next time."

You knew he wouldn't hesitate to harm, or even kill someone for you, but would he do it to his own subordinate?

Long story short, the group that had made you uncomfortable were never seen again under Tartaglia's supervision.

A few weeks later, he had started subtly advising you on ways to intimidate someone. Between eye contact, posture, and manipulation, intimidation was one of the many things he had been trained on as a harbinger.

He'd watch as you had started to copy him, standing by his side standing as tall as you could, (even if you weren't very tall.)

He was proud of himself for teaching you so well, and proud of you for learning. You weren't very scary, but he knew he was, so regardless, people would be scared if they saw him by your side.

You'd exclaim to him excitedly when his subordinates would avoid your eye contact, but in reality, he had threatened them. He loved the way you'd light up, and if all he had to do was threatened his snotty subordinates, he'd do it a million times over.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe tartagalia #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #cyno genshin impact #cyno #OrchistList

[thatsoraya]

MASQUERADE

pairing. ceo!satoru gojo x ceo!fem!reader warnings. non-sorcerer au, ceo au, fluff wc. 1048

divider by @saradika-graphics

y/n slammed the manila folder onto her pristine mahogany desk, the papers scattering like startled pigeons. gojo satoru, perched on the edge of her chair with an infuriatingly nonchalant air, barely flinched.

"why me?" she demanded, her voice a steely edge that could rival his sunglasses.

gojo's grin, ever-present and perpetually annoying, only widened. "because, y/n," he drawled, "who else could pull this off?"

y/n narrowed her eyes. gojo satoru, childhood nemesis, current business rival, and the absolute last person on earth she'd willingly spend a single second with, was proposing a ludicrous plan. a fake-dating plan.

"this," she gestured at the folder overflowing with charity gala invitations, "is about fundraising for a worthy cause, satoru. not some playground game."

gojo's grin softened, a rare sight. "exactly! my family's the prime sponsor for this year's gala. my absence would be...unsightly. but yours, darling ceo, would be catastrophic."

y/n scoffed. "don't try that 'darling ceo' on me. besides, why can't your fiance attend?"

"that's the thing," gojo sighed dramatically, "there isn't one. my parents, bless their traditional hearts, are throwing a fit about my 'lack of commitment.'" he gestured vaguely at himself.

"and your solution is to drag me into this?"

gojo uncrossed his long legs and stood, towering over her. "listen, it's just for one weekend! gala night, some brunch with the oldies, that's it. think of it as payback for all those times you convinced me to eat worms in kindergarten."

y/n's lips twitched. kindergarten memories, fuelled by childish competition and a healthy dose of mischief, flooded back. "oh ya, i still owe you for that one."

"exactly! this evens the score, doesn't it?"

y/n considered it. the chance to witness gojo squirm under his parents' scrutiny was undeniably tempting. plus, the charity was one she truly cared about.

"alright, fine," she conceded. "but before we proceed with anything," her eyes gleamed, "let's set some ground rules?"

gojo's grin returned, full wattage. "rules? we can follow the rules."

"first," she began, ticking them off on her fingers, "no public displays of affection beyond hand-holding or whatever is cooking in your stupid brain. second, no impromptu 'childhood memories' stories to embarrass me.third," she paused for effect, "strictly business after the weekend. no lingering affections. lastly, you will treat me at best dessert place in town” 

gojo held up his hands in mock surrender. "deal. but," he added with a mischievous glint, "no complaining about my dazzling good looks either."

y/n rolled her eyes. satoru smirked,"just smile and hold my hand, babygirl. that's all i ask."

“and what about our parents? what do we tell them after this is over?” she looked worried. 

satoru shrugged while replying,“simple. we would say, it didn’t work. so we decided to stay off as good friends”

the weekend arrived in a whirlwind of press briefings, wardrobe changes, and gojo's relentless teasing. he wore the role of the smitten fiance with such exaggerated enthusiasm, y/n couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or strangle him.

the gala buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses. y/n, her emerald gown shimmering under the chandelier's soft glow, found herself trapped in a polite conversation with gojo's parents, a picture-perfect couple with an air of practiced elegance.

"such a charming couple you two make," gojo's mother cooed, her gaze flickering between them. y/n offered a tight smile, feeling gojo's hand tighten around hers ever so slightly.

"indeed," his father boomed, a hearty man with a booming laugh. "we were starting to worry about satoru, always focused on work and never settling down."

y/n cast a sidelong glance at gojo, who was now sporting a playful pout. "we're taking things slow, mr. gojo," she replied smoothly. "building a strong foundation, you see."

across the room, y/n spotted her own parents, their faces etched with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. her mischievous younger brother leaned against them, a wide grin plastered across his face. he winked at her, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

suddenly, a lull fell in the conversation with gojo's parents. y/n cleared her throat, willing herself to maintain composure. this was child's play compared to navigating boardroom negotiations.

the evening stretched on, a delicate dance of maintaining appearances. y/n found herself surprisingly comfortable in the role, gojo's theatrics strangely reassuring. they waltzed together, a practiced ease settling between them despite their initial animosity.

as the night drew to a close, gojo leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "you know," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you clean up rather nicely, darling ceo."

y/n arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "don't get any ideas, satoru. this is all an act, remember?"

gojo chuckled, a rich, warm sound. "of course," he conceded, his eyes lingering on hers for a beat too long before he winked. "just like you used to beat me at every game in kindergarten."

the memory sparked a comfortable silence between them, a shared history unspoken yet acknowledged. as they said their goodbyes to gojo's parents, y/n couldn't help but notice a flicker of genuine warmth in their eyes, a hint of approval that surprised her.

the next morning, they found themselves at a quaint little cafe, sunlight streaming through the windows and painting dappled patterns on the table. gojo, surprisingly subdued, sipped his coffee, the silence stretching between them.

"so," y/n finally said, breaking the quiet, "what now?"

gojo looked up, a thoughtful expression on his face. "honestly," he admitted, "i hadn't thought that far ahead. maybe we could… continue staying friends? this wasn't so bad, was it?"

y/n considered it. the weekend had been a whirlwind, but beneath the masquerade, there had been a strange ease, a sense of familiarity that surprised her. "alright," she agreed, a slow smile spreading across her face. "friends. but on one condition."

gojo's eyes widened playfully. "anything. but, no more worms."

y/n declared, her smile turning mischievous. "ever."

gojo threw his head back and laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the cafe. "deal," he agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "besides, i think i owe you a treat at the best dessert place. this time, let’s do more sweet eating challenges."

#⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 #⋆·˚ ༘ * jujutsu kaisen #⋆·˚ ༘ * ceo! gojo #⋆·˚ ༘ * satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk anime #jujutsukaisen

[gamerwoo]

Hyunjin: Age-Restricted (Epilogue)

Characters: Hyunjin x female reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: nanny!reader, ex-porn star/neighbor!hyunjin, fluff, humor, alcohol consumption, implied smut but nothing explicitly happens, if i missed anything lmk!!! (minors dni!!!)

Word count: 4,370

Summary: You think it’s luck when the new family you nanny for is so stupid rich that they rent you a fancy new apartment just so you can live closer to them. You think it’s luck when the guy across the hall is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life and makes an effort to talk to you. But that’s just about where your luck runs out, because Hyunjin is more out of your league than you could ever imagine, and you’re just some hopeless virgin who never had good luck in the first place.

a/n: we finally reached the end!!! i will be revisiting this bc i just love the characters and universe so much so there will be little spin-offs and such here and there. thank you sm for all the love this series received :') <3

Previous | Series Masterlist

Out of all the outfits you’d seen Hyunjin wear, this was definitely the most handsome he’d ever looked. Even if it wasn’t as intricate as some of the other suits he’d worn, this was by far the best he’d looked. Standing in his all-black suit, he smiled at you across the aisle, absolutely beaming as he took in all the work on your hair, makeup, and perfectly-tailored dress. The song that the small orchestra played was a love song you were somewhat familiar with but you couldn’t put a name on – you didn’t have a say in the music and nobody told you what it was called. But the band put a twist on it to sound more like a wedding song since it was, in fact, a wedding.

All you could see was Hyunjin. Felix and Jeongin standing behind him as groomsmen were basically just blurs to you. All the flowers, the small audience, the officiate – everything had faded out of view. You had Hyunjin tunnel vision.

Unfortunately, Kit’s head was now eye-level with you because of the heels she wore, and it mildly destructed your view of your boyfriend. The white veil pinned above her perfect curls didn’t help, either.

You were a bit shocked that Kit had asked you to be her maid of honor. You thought she must’ve had other friends or family that she had known longer or were closer with. She did have a friend from the industry in her bridal party, as well as Changbin’s sister, but that was really it. She claimed you were her favorite girl in her life and she wanted you to be the maid of honor, and really, who were you to say no? You loved Kit and felt honored that you meant that much to her.

Of course, Hyunjin was Changbin’s best man. You remembered how he was beaming when Changbin had asked him. He had come back from a night out with Changbin, Felix, and Jeongin, and he squealed about how all of them were in the wedding party but he was the best man. It was really sweet how much Changbin and Hyunjin cared about and supported each other.

The wedding was big and extravagant like you thought it would be since it involved Kit. While you knew she wasn’t the one who found marriage to be completely necessary, you knew that if she were going to have a wedding to make Changbin happy that she would want to go all out. And as anybody could guess, Changbin would never tell Kit no. The wedding looked like if the Twilight wedding was held in a warm, sunny field outside of a large venue. The venue itself just looked like someone’s large palace. It made you wonder just how much money Changbin and Kit were making, but that wasn’t any of your business. You just had to sit back and enjoy the wedding.

Well, after the ceremony, of course.

The crowd consisted of Kit’s dad’s side of the family, as well as Changbin’s entire family, your old roommates who had integrated into the friend group, and some of Changbin and Kit’s own friends that you’d either met a couple of times or had never seen before. You were actually a bit surprised – and intimidated as you stood in front of the crowd – by how many people they’d invited to this wedding.

The ceremony was short, but sweet. They each prepared vows, and that was honestly the longest part of the whole ceremony, but it was the most entertaining as well as the sweetest. They both put little jokes here and there in their vows to tease the other, which made everyone laugh. But in the end, they were both sniffling with eyes filled with tears of happiness. They kissed, were dubbed married, and walked back up the aisle as they smiled and held hands. 

Leaving you back to grinning like a goofball at your boyfriend across the aisle, who tried to hold in a laugh as he shook his head back at you.

The justice of the peace gestured for you and Hyunjin to come together, so you both walked forward to meet in the middle. You hooked your arm through his, carrying your bouquet as you walked back up the aisle.

You felt Hyunjin lean into you before you felt his warm breath fanning your ear as he said quietly, “This’ll be us someday.”

You tried to contain your eyeroll – you didn’t because you still couldn’t control your facial expressions and had started to believe you never would – since you knew pictures were being taken as you replied, “Probably soon since you have to rush straight into everything.”

Hyunjin scoffed, “Angel, you already know it’s the drama gene. I thought we were passed this.”

-

“So I block her number, but then Jeongin also has to block her number because she started calling him,” Felix explained, talking about a development in the story of him and a girl he started going on dates with from a dating app. 

The short of it was that he matched with this cute brunette girl with freckles, they went on three dates, and she slowly started revealing more red flags throughout each date until the third and final date where Felix broke it off. Now, she was stalking him.

“Ew,” Minho showed a look of disgust, holding a beer bottle in his hand as he leaned against the bar and listened to Felix’s story. 

He was sitting in a stood between the two of you, pulled out just enough that he could look at you both comfortably. You were sitting in a stool on his other side, turned sideways to face your two friends while your arm rested on the cool countertop and your hand wrapped around your mixed drink. You were currently drinking Changbin’s signature drink, which was a whiskey sour. You decided you like it better than Kit’s spicy strawberry daiquiri.

“Yeah, I know!” he agreed, eyes wide. “So we both have her blocked, but then she starts showing up at work!”

“Dude, what?” you laugh, unable to believe what you were hearing. “How did she find out where you work? Did you tell her?”

“No! Never!” he insisted. “I was always sober for my dates and I was so sure to be careful with giving out information too personal on the first date. I just said I worked at a hotel which is…almost true. It’s not a hotel but it’s, like, the same sort of job, right? Anyway, after the end of the first date, I knew I wasn’t gonna trust her with anything personal yet, and the dates kept getting worse and worse, so I never said anything.”

“Yeah, she’s just a certified psycho,” Minho nodded before taking a sip of his beer. It was a bit weird seeing Minho all cleaned up, but you had to admit he looked nice. Perfectly combed brown hair, the jacket of his tux left at his table draped across the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his white button-up were rolled up his forearms. You’d known Minho a long time but never knew he could look this handsome. 

So the reason he’s single has nothing to do with his looks, you thought to yourself. Got it.

“Crazy people will find out anything,” he continued once he had swallowed. “Take Jisung for instance. He knows everything. …And somehow still nothing at all.”

You shrugged with a slight nod. Jisung was definitely the dumbest smart person you knew.

“Okay, but Jisung isn’t stalking people,” Felix stated.

“Okay, but she found out where you work,” you interrupted, trying to get the story back on track. You were very invested. “Then what happened?”

“Yeah, so she showed up during the day before mine or Jeongin’s shifts started but she was asking for me, right? Well, I go in for my shift and Hannie was leaving and mentioned how this girl came in asking for me and she described her. So obviously, I’m like, we need to ban this girl from coming back here. Well she put in an application to live there!”

Your eyes went wide and so did Minho’s. This girl was straight-up insane.

“Does she realize how much that place costs?” you asked.

“Possible sugar mommy,” Minho suggested.

“Oh, shut up,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“So, what I’m thinking I should do–”

You suddenly saw an arm swing between you and Felix, slapping the counter. You first looked to see it was Kit in her smaller white dress for the reception. It had sheer long sleeves like her actual wedding dress, but the rest of the dress was a plain ivory that was form-fitting and went down to her mid thigh.

“Speaking of psycho sugar mommies…” Minho mumbled before sipping his beer like he didn’t say a word.

Then you followed her tattooed arm down to her hand and saw she slapped cash on the counter. Twenty to be exact.

Felix’s eyebrows were furrowed, “What’s that for?”

Behind Kit was Changbin still in his suit, but without the jacket. You thought the suspenders might make him look silly, but you had to admit, he looked pretty good with them. His hands were in his pocket, but instead of looking disappointed like you thought he might, he was smirking.

Instead of waiting for Kit to answer Felix’s question, your head was whipping around, eyes darting to find your target.

“_____ wins,” Kit sighed. “Unfortunately, we didn’t count on the weird one having just natural weird-kid rizz.”

Finally, you spotted him. Through the crowd, diagonally across the room from you, was Jisung standing there beside a girl with beach blonde hair, and wearing heels that made Jisung perfectly eye-level with her very large breasts – even you were staring and you were shocked to see Jisung was looking straight up into her eyes the entire conversation. You could tell that he was a little nervous but was trying to play it off – the beer in his hand was probably helping – but also that she was very blatantly hitting on him. Touching his shoulder, biting her lip, and twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Yeah, Jisung may be weird, but he had an undeniable draw to him because he was weird. That’s why you bet your twenty bucks on him.

The other two at the counter began looking around to see why you were smiling and laughing like a maniac. When they spotted Jisung with someone who was obviously one of Kit’s friends, they turned back to you.

“Hang on, what’s happening?” Minho asked.

“Us and Hyunjin made a bet on who would pull a pornstar first,” Changbin clarified with a chuckle as he pulled one hand from his pocket and handed you a twenty himself between his forefinger and middle. “_____ made a brave choice and put her money on Jisung.”

“But it’s always the weird ones…” Kit sighed heavily, shaking her head like the loss of fourty bucks between her and her new husband was the worst thing to happen to her.

Changbin smirked and gently elbowed her, “You of all people should’ve known that.”

Now, the two men you had been having a conversation with were staring at you. Minho looked angry, and Felix just looked offended.

“Jisung?!” Minho demanded. “You picked that freak over me?!”

“Well clearly for good reason,” you laughed, gesturing over to Jisung who was still having a conversation with the blonde girl. “How many pornstars have you talked to besides these two and Hyun?”

“What’s going on?” Jeongin waltzed up with a drink in his hand, and Seungmin and Chan behind him with drinks of their own. “We saw Minho looks pissed.”

“Did you know about this bet?” Felix asked them.

“What bet?” Seungmin asked.

“The four chuckleheads made a bet on which one of us would pull a pornstar first, and the traitor didn’t choose any of us!” Minho exclaimed.

None of them seemed to care, and Chan was the one shrug and ask, “Who’d you choose.”

“The winner,” you grinned widely, pointing over at Jisung.

The small crowd turned their heads. That was when they started to care.

Well, except for Chan who just smiled and nodded and said, “Damn, good for him.”

“Jisung?!” Seungmin shouted, whipping back to you. “You picked that weirdo over your best friend?!”

“Hey!” Minho scowled.

“Clearly it was the right decision,” you shrugged. “Don’t be mad that I was right.”

“It’s not about being right, it’s that you didn’t have faith in us but you did in him,” Jeongin frowned, also clearly very butthurt about the situation.

“For good reason!” you insisted.

As the group began attacking you for your choice, Jisung suddenly walked up and let out a breathy, “Hey…”

Everyone looked at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide. But more perplexing, he had a napkin stuffed into the pocket of his unbuttoned suit jacket.

Chan reached over and plucked the flimsy paper out and saw that there was a number written down on it in red pen. He was grinning and giggling, but everyone else – other than you and the happy couple – seemed annoyed and began groaning and huffing.

With fearful eyes, he looked across the group at Kit, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do anything with her. I’m just a guy.”

“Truthfully, Aliyah is never like that,” Kit laughed. “She’s actually painfully shy unless she turns the persona on. She was really trying to impress you.”

“And for what!” Minho shouted, gesturing very sharply at the flustered boy.

“Porn stars are also very well aware that sex isn’t like in porn,” Changbin told him matter-of-factly with a chuckle. “We’re…still people, dude.”

“That’s not a person, that’s a goddess,” he said, pointing back to where Aliyah once stood but was now off giggling with some friends like a middle-schooler who just got asked out by her crush by her locker.

It was actually really cute.

“_____,” Changbin spoke up while the group was either trying to give Jisung a pep talk – that was mostly just Kit and Chan – or were complaining how it shouldn’t have been him, “Hyunjin still owes you money. I think he’s outside.”

He ended the statement with a wink and gestured for you to leave the group as he stepped aside to make room for you. You weren’t entirely sure what the wink was for, but you got up and slid between him and Kit to go outside, leaving your drink at the bar. Either it would get drunk by one of your friends, or it would be there when you returned. You didn’t care either way.

The outside back garden of the venue looked like something out of a fairytale. There were bushes that went up to your hip that were perfectly trimmed, and flower bushes scattered about. The bushes were spread out and separated between pathways with benches scattered throughout the garden. And in the center of it all was a beautiful fountain surrounded by four benches that were spaced out with a few feet in between them.

You found your boyfriend sitting on one of the benches by the fountain, but he was facing away from the fountain and the building, staring up at the night sky. Surprisingly, you could still see a decent amount of stars since the lighting was so warm and dim outside. Wordlessly, you went over and sat down beside him, the bottom of your dress hitting the ground. You were too tipsy at that point to care about it getting dirty, though.

“Wish I brought my pad now,” he mused quietly. “I didn’t think the sky would be so pretty. Watercolors would capture this pretty well.”

All you did was hum and nod in agreement, your eyes also on the stars.

You felt Hyunjin’s head turn, his gaze now on you. He studied your profile like he wanted it to burn into his memory – if it already wasn’t. 

“I was serious before,” he told you.

You turned to look back at him, “What?”

“When I said that would be us someday. And sooner rather than later.”

Once again, you scoffed and rolled your eyes playfully, “Yeah, babe, I know.”

“Oh, do you think I’m bluffing?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Do you really think my dramatic ass wouldn’t go out the morning after we first had sex to buy you a ring?”

That caught you off guard. Your eyes were locked on him again, searching for any hint of him kidding around or just saying that to get your attention. You wanted to call him crazy. What kind of incel would go out and get an engagement ring after one night of intimacy?

But you had to remember this was Hyunjin, and he was as dramatic as they come. But he always was sure of his decisions before he made them. And he was sure of you from the start.

However, this was a huge deal, and you had to call him on his bluff. He must’ve been exaggerating. Who the hell in their right mind would go out and buy a ring immediately after some probably-decent-at-best sex?

So your eyes narrowed, “Hwang Hyunjin, there’s no fucking way you did that.”

The look he gave you said, ‘Oh really?’ as he immediately leaned toward you and began digging in his right pocket. 

Oh god, was he serious? Did he actually have a ring? And he could see the panic replace the smugness on your face because his smirk only widened.

If he was serious, you couldn’t let this happen now. And maybe he was just fucking with you, but this wasn’t a chance you could take anymore.

“No, no, no!” you rushed to get the word out as you scrambled to reach over and grab his arm, stopping his actions. “It’s literally your best friends’ wedding! You can’t propose at a wedding! Stop it!”

With loud laughter, Hyunjin pulls his hand out of his pocket, pulling the inside of it out with his index and thumb. You could see there was nothing there, and Hyunjin had, in fact, played you. You did find it funny, but you scowled at him anyway. He could still see in your eyes how amusing it was, so he only laughed harder.

“I’d never do that. I’m not that dramatic that I’d take the spotlight like that,” he promised, still laughing. But then he stopped, leaning into you. “But, tomorrow is completely on limits.”

As he gave you a sweet smile and batted his eyelashes, you pushed his head away and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, okay, just give me my twenty bucks.”

His eyebrows raised as he sat back again, “Oh, Jisung won?”

You nodded.

He let out a deep sigh as he went into his other pocket where he was keeping his wallet, mumbling, “I really thought it was gonna be Felix…”

“No, you just have a crush on Felix,” you reminded him as he slid a twenty out and you snatched it up.

“But nothing compared to what I feel for you, my love,” he cooed, and you could tell he was trying to be overly-sweet, but also that he meant it. So when he puckered his lips, you sighed and gave him a chaste kiss. He hummed and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” you suddenly had a thought that you had wanted to bring up to Hyunjin. “Changbin’s sister told me I don’t need to babysit anymore because their parents want to bring them to the zoo tomorrow, so I’m free to, like, rot in bed or whatever you wanna do tomorrow.”

Word had gotten to Changbin’s older sister, who had a son, that you used to be a nanny and you had been a free agent. He got the two of you in contact, and she offered you a job. And she was a great boss with an easy kid to take care of, so you’d been working for her for the last almost year.

“Ugh, thank god,” he sighed as he leaned into you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “It would feel so awful to go home, celebrate our friends’ marriage, and then wake up to an empty bed.”

Your eyebrows raised as you looked down at him where he had his head rested on your shoulder, “Oh, you had plans tonight?”

He rolled his eyes, “Come on, _____. We both know I have plans for us almost every night.”

-

“Baby?” Hyunjin’s soft voice was breaking through your sleep as he gently shook your shoulder. “_____, my love.”

You got home at about 11:30. There was no after party since Kit and Changbin had a few friends who were either sober or had substance addictions, and the pair didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. So while you had expected for some sort of celebration to continue after the venue had shut down, you were a little relieved to know you could go home and go to sleep.

Despite Hyunjin’s words, he had rolled over and was seemingly out before you even got out of the bathroom after taking off your makeup. But you were fine with that. You had all day the next day to do whatever the two of you wanted anyway, so you laid down beside him and fell asleep.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed between then and now.

You hummed in response, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s 12:01,” he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning your hair. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Mm…so?” you asked groggily, trying to roll over with your eyes still closed. You were now on your back, arms sprawled out but legs still in the same curled-up position.

He chuckled, “Open your eyes.”

You blinked them open. You were pretty sure one actually opened before the other one like a lizard. And you had to blink a few times to focus on anything. But when you did, you shot straight up.

Hyunjin was sitting up in bed, facing you with a fond smile, and a small box held open with a dainty but absolutely sparkling and stunning ring in it.

“But, tomorrow is completely on limits.”

He really wasn’t bluffing.

“I could spend hours talking about how much I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I already do that every other night,” he laughed softly. His cheeks were flushed pink, and you were sure this was maybe the fifth time you’d seen Hyunjin flustered to any capacity. “So, for once, instead of doing all the dramatics, I want to keep it simple. Just like that first night. Simple, yet romantic.

“So, ______,” he was giggling, and you were giggling. And you were both leaning in closer and closer. “Will you marry me?”

Your heart was fluttering in your chest and you had that weird cold/hot feeling you got in your stomach when you were about to have an anxiety attack. But this time, it was a good feeling. It made your smile widen and your giggle go higher because you were just so excited and happy and every good feeling you could possibly have even if you felt like you might throw up.

And it was a good thing Hyunjin did this all sitting in bed because you were sure your legs would give out if he did this all traditionally.

You wanted to ramble out something like “a million times yes” or “i’d say yes in every universe” or something to really get the point across, but that felt too cheesy and insincere. But just “yes” felt like it wasn’t enough. So instead, you just sat there nodding furiously with a smile so wide you thought your face would split into two.

“Don’t know how to reply?” he guessed because he knew to this day you still overthought sometimes.

You nodded again.

But he knew you so well and knew you didn’t have to say anything. So he sealed it with a kiss so you didn’t have to worry about saying anything at all. When he pulled away, his forehead stayed on yours as he looked down and slid the ring on your finger.

He smiled, “Perfect fit.

“And speaking of perfect fits…” he chuckled evilly while he grabbed your waist and rolled you over so you were laying down again on your back and he was above you, “we never got to our plans after the wedding.”

Your eyebrows furrowed and your head cocked to the side as you looked up at him, “I don’t ge–... Hyunjin!” your cheeks heated as you got what he meant, and he just laughed.

“Good thing you’re not working tomorrow. Would hate to have Eunwoo ask why you’re walking funny.”

“Yeah, don’t get me fired from a second job,” you joked.

“I’m always more than willing to be the sole provider,” he reminded you with a playful grin as he nudged his nose against your jaw.

“Save your money, Hwang. We have a wedding to plan now,” you told him as he left soft kisses along your neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to elope?”

“Really? You want to miss out on the one time you can be as big and dramatic and romantic as you want?” you laughed.

“Oh, we can still have a giant party. But I want to be married to you now,” he pulled away to grin down at you, his forehead resting against yours. “But if it’s what you want, I can wait.”

“I love you,” you told him sweetly.

“God, I never get sick of hearing that,” he chuckled as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you more. Can’t wait for you to be mine.”

“I’m always yours. Ring or no ring.”

“Now who’s the dramatic one?” he asked teasingly, his tongue poking out playfully between his teeth.

“What can I say, you’ve rubbed off on me.”

“Oh, I’ve done a lot more than that.”

“Hwang Hyunjin!”

#k-labels #hyunjin #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #stray kids x reader #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #hyunjin x reader