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ajortga · 1 month

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for i can't help falling in love with you

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

summary: not only are you new and in almost all of vada's classes, but the more you get to know each other, the more you hang out. she starts to think maybe your friendship is more than what she thought it was, she's feeling something she knows that you shouldn't feel for a friend.

word count: 10.1k+

a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, this is fluffy and sweet, spent way too long on it but nonetheless, not regretful!

based off a request! this is for my vada <3ers

R transfers, V sees her almost all the time and eventually starts falling for R, V then embarrassingly asks R out for dinner! Just plainly puppy love, literally not much but I find these types of tropes sooo comforting, u can change some up a bit!!

It’s loud, bustling, chaotic every single day in the cafeteria.

As soon as the bell rings around the hallways and into the classrooms for lunch break, everyone slams into each other and sprints to the front of the lunch line. Vada even remembers while she walked with Nick some boy tripped in thin air and fell to the floor. She couldn’t help but laugh a little. That was until Nick and her found out he had to get stitches to repair his nose.

She laughed even harder, she couldn’t help it.

Vada slurped her slushy as she kicked her feet, talking with Nick who was drinking an iced latte.

“In a sense, slurpees are better than coffee. You don’t have to immediately shit diarrhea as soon as you plop on the toilet.”

He agrees, rolling his eyes, “Yeah but who would want slushies every day? They stain your mouth.”

“Well would you rather have a temporary colorful tongue that can be seen as cool, or stay in the bathroom while crying for help?”

It seems like as soon as she said it, Nick gagged as he held his stomach.

“You have 30 seconds before you're going to shit your pants,” she states, looking at him up and down. He wasn’t moving.

“Nick, go!” Vada yelled as she choked on a small giggle, watching Nick run to the bathroom holding his pants up to his sides.

As the baggy clothed brunette watched her best friend race to the bathroom, she clicked her tongue and shook her head. Vada slurped on her red slushy.

She was waiting for Nick until she noticed someone with a jacket wrapped around a tank top with her headphones on and book in one hand. You. She’s never seen you before and it was almost certain she’s seen everyone at least once before to know their name. She was bored, so she just watched.

You were folding a gum wrapper into a heart while you followed Mia into the girls restroom. Mia was always the one to give student tours when she could. You must’ve been new. But then you came back out without your jacket, holding it in the other hand as she saw Mia’s slushie spilled all over your jacket. She could almost hear how she was apologizing over and over again and you smiled it off, showing her how it was okay and you could clean up when you got home.

Then she took you back to her friend group, seeing the way your hair went side to side as you walked. Before she could watch you even more, Nick called out her name.

“I just took the biggest shit of my li- what are you looking at?”

She hears him but doesn’t turn his way,still looking a little, “Just someone who I think is new. Mia is giving her a tour.”

Nick said a small “ohhh..” in response, “Well what’s so exciting about that?”

“Mia accidentally spilled the slushie we bought this morning on her jacket by accident.”

“That’s so not cool, she must be cold having to take that off, was she mad?”

“No, she just brushed it off, smiled in a somewhat assuring way, and gave Mia the gum wrapper she folded before Mia took her back to her friend group.”

“Ooh. She’s patient then.”

“Yeah.”

After lunch passed, Vada realized you were in almost all her periods, well only the ones she attended. Sometimes she was late from Amelia hogging the bus. You kept to yourself, gave shy smiles as the teachers introduced you.

But as the next day rose she was back at school again.

Her favorite class was her film class, it was like a free period and she got to touch cameras and watch movies at least twice a week.

She sits in the corner of the room, she likes the way she can look out the window and see the sight of the sky while also seeing her own reflection.

FIlm class is oddly comforting, music always plays before the period begins. She places her phone on top of her desk.

So for the third time that day, she sees you walk through, with your backpack hung over one shoulder and the other with a book. She wants to feel surprised, almost strange how you end up in her class, but instead she almost feels a sense of gratefulness.

She doesn’t want to stare. But her eyes betray her, because in one second her eyes are on you. New students weren’t regular, well in her core classes, sure. But film? Almost never. She watches the way you wait by the teacher’s desk, waiting, unsure, not knowing if you should tap her shoulder or just wait until she notices you. Usually, Vada and Mia would sit together, but sometimes on bad days, they would have to move from talking and laughing too much. So they stuck to sitting diagonally and passing notes in the back of the classroom. Finally, the teacher notices you and the smile she gives you is almost too happy as she rubs your shoulder and stands up.

“Alright everyone,” she quiets down her music, “..usually during film I’d let the music keep rolling, but just for today I’d like you to greet our new student who just transferred here. Her name is Y/N.”

People around the class say awkward hi’s, random waves, some of the girls stare at you and awe, and even some of the well-known guys look at you, eyebrows raised and Vada can almost feel their want for you.

It makes her roll her eyes in disgust.

You do an awkward wave, wanting to shrink into the floor, a smile tugged at your lips.

“Okay sweetheart, there aren’t many options for seating since this class is more compacted than my others. But you can sit next to Vada.” Ms. Valentina points at Vada, “She’s the one in the very back, the open seat behind Mia.”

Your eyes almost light up when you notice Mia’s in your class, giving a small nod and trying to squish into the back.

Mia waves at you, shaking your shoulders to show her excitement as you sit down. Vada can almost smell the sweetness of your shampoo when you sit. It smells like ripe strawberries with the fulfilling scent of roasted marshmallows. She wants to sniff your hair, but you’re already pulling out your notebook from your backpack.

“Hey girl!” Mia whispers, turning around to face you as you smile.

“Hey slurpee stainer,” you joke, your voice is soft, airy, melodic. Not like anything Vada’s ever heard. Sure she’s heard many voices, but yours sounded like a lullaby to shush a baby to sleep if you wanted to.

Mia giggles, slapping your arm, “I said I’m sorryyyy. I’d say I’d take you shopping on the weekends! Don’t use that against me,” she scolds, and that makes you laugh, you cup your mouth to contain the giggles and Vada can hear an adorable squeak come out from it.

“I know, don’t be sorry, I was just joking, I’ll just wash it when I get home,” you whisper.

Before you two could talk again the teacher spoke, “Okay guys, it was a long day yesterday and I was planning on printing out some papers for assignments two days prior, but our school printer broke and the ink on mine is hanging on for dear life.” She pauses, everyone didn’t know where she was going with this, “So I’m just going to roll a movie, you guys can choose but I really don’t have much. You can talk, keep it low and hey, if you’re sitting around Y/N, lighten up the mood and get to know her.”

There were random okays and suggestions. As Ms. Valentina kept reading aloud the names, it was almost certain that Shrek was going to be chosen. For the third time this month. Until she spoke out a new suggestion, and everyone chose La La Land instead.

As she played the movie off the projector, Mia scooted to you.

“Okay, so no pressure, buttt my dad's gone today and I know you said you didn’t have homework. If you don’t want to, it's completely understandable, but me and Vada,” she gestures to the brunette sitting next to you, with her hands clasped together and looking at you with interest, “We sometimes go on pool runs or just drive to the nearest seven eleven. Honestly, it’s whatever. But if you wanna hang, I can give you a ride back home, let you drop off your stuff, and we can get to know each other more at mine. What are you thinking?”

Your lips tug into a thoughtful grin, telling Mia she doesn’t have to because she accidentally spilled her drink on you. But Vada kept staring at you. The blonde glanced at her, she saw her basically staring at your side profile, then back at you before giving her a light leg nudge that you didn’t notice.

“No no! Don’t feel pressured, just know that” Mia breathes and pats your forearm reassuringly, “..that I think we should hang out more, kay? You don’t know how many people don’t get mad when someone spills something on them. At least you’re someone who's patient as hell.” She makes you laugh as you think again.

“Okay, I’d love that,” you respond, simply.

“Then it’s set! Just meet us at that broccoli lookin’ tree, kay?”

As soon as the bell roars and everyone starts opening the gates like it’s the ones they’ll see in heaven, you squish into the crowd of people and look for this broccoli looking tree Mia was referring to. It didn’t take you long.

The only broccoli looking tree was the only tree that was stranded from all the poofy and leafy looking trees, and you could see her with the other brunette that you sat next to in class. You think her name was Vada. You didn’t want to ask, if you did and Vada wasn’t her name, you might as well crawl into a hole.

Mia immediately greets you.

Vada kicks at dirt beneath her, smiling a little foolishly, she realizes when she thinks how silly she might look to you. Her silly smile slightly fades to a more soft one to try and not seem weird. Instead you feel like she might feel uncomfortable with you, maybe she’s closed to people she meets at first. You hope that it doesn’t stay that way

“Get in!” The blonde smiles, and you swerve into the backseat as you drive off to the nearest seven eleven.

Mia’s car smells like flowers, you almost feel a little carsick from the leather and floral scent mixed together. You smell something else though, sweet plum and fluffy musk. You think it’s Vada, you can almost smell her shampoo from here.

It’s a little quiet, Mia talks to Vada, you try not to disrupt so you pretend you're looking at the window staring at literally nothing. It’s like the blue-eyed girl can see the way you try to keep to yourself and don’t want to be involved when you don’t think you should. So she bumps the music up.

Vada wants to talk to you. She can feel this urge for her heart to make her mouth open and speak. But for some reason she feels nervous. It’s weird, she’s usually open and starts off with teasing. Why can’t she speak now? Maybe it’s because.. Vada doesn’t even have a reason to know, she just doesn’t know.

“Dude, how is there traffic already to go to a fucking seven-eleven? We literally just left school.” Mia murmurs, tapping her shoes to the music.

Vada turns around, to look at the cars behind her, maybe to check how many are behind her.

That’s what Mia thought, but Vada wondered what you were doing. She's never met someone that tries to be considerate, to be polite and not wanting to interrupt anyone at any time

She notices the way you take the opportunity of the slightly opened window to take a breath of fresh air and let that small crack to let the small breeze blow through your hair. She sees the way you twirl your necklace up and down, side to side, then spin it around your fingers. She notices how you don’t notice her, so you don’t look at her, you look at the sky, the small baby cows, the cars.

It’s like a pencil is engraving into her mind to write all the details she sees. But she doesn’t know why.

Your figure slightly leans into the window, closing your eyes to rest. Maybe you’re thinking about Mia and what a good friend she is. Maybe you’re thinking about wanting to get to know her, Vada. Maybe you’re thinking of how long it’ll take for you to blend in into this place. Maybe you’re thinking how your place didn’t have many cows everywhere. Maybe you lived in the snowy mountains, or the coastal shorelines where you could take a dip in cool water every summer morning.

She sees your eyes flutter as the car slowly stops. Her body tenses and turns back to the front, you’re already at seven-eleven.

“It’s honestly kind of warm outside, I can turn on the AC on this thing if you don’t wanna go,” Mia says, finally turning around to look at you rubbing your eyes.

“No, no, it’s ‘kay, I’ll come, gotta exercise these legs anyway.” You say, opening her door and following suite with Mia and Vada. The small concreted rocks crunching beneath your shoes.

Mia obviously wants to check out the candy section, but Vada wants another slushy.

“Hold up, I think they have the candy they didn’t have when I checked the other time. Vadaaa you can just roam with Y/N. I’m not sure if you guys had seven-eleven where you lived.” She peeks into the candy section and with a spin of a corner she’s gone.

Vada stands there, awkwardly. She feels like if anything, you should be the one standing there like that. You stand there, looking at the slushies. Cola, blue raspberry, cherry, mountain dew, honestly you didn’t know if you should get one.

“Do you want to get one?” Vada asks, the first time you really heard her speak.

Your ears perk, turning to face her, “I’m not really a slushy person,” you speak softly, “I’m a little thirsty though.”

Vada smiles at that, “I like the cherry flavor and blue raspberry, but you gotta swirl it a certain way for it to taste the way I really like it, y’know?” She speaks, you nod, noticing her baggy basketball shorts and oversized shirt.

She walks closer, she can smell the same sweetness of your scent. Strawberries and roasted marshmallows. Your scent is oddly comforting, a scent where anyone would hug you longer and never let you go to smell it forever.

She stops before you can process anything, slightly backing away and focusing on the slushy dispenser.

“Okay. So like, I know you’re probably not supposed to do this but I just put my index and middle finger under the dispenser and,” she stops, looking at you, “make sure you wash your hands though,” she laughs. “But if you don’t know what flavor, just lick it off your fingers.”

Vada can almost sense you suppressing your laughter, “Seriously! I don’t give two shits about those security cameras. Honestly we go here so often we could get a free slushy and not pay.” She places her fingers under the dispenser of the cherry blast and presses the button, stopping it and licking it off her fingers.

It’s like she’s teaching you. She likes the way you’re interested and really looks like you want to learn.

“Do you want to try?” The slightly shorter brunette asks, her voice trying not to seem pressuring at all.

You think, looking at her fingers as she wipes it with a random brown napkin and throwing it away in the trash, “Okay,” your smooth voice responds before approaching beside her.

You use your index finger and place it under the blue raspberry one.

“This one?” Vada questions, when you nod she presses softly on the dispense button.

Your giggle from the icy cold makes her feel like the happiness she feels when she makes a small child laugh.

Vada turns to look at you and smiles, taking off her hand off the dispense button and watching you lick your fingers. (they were clean I promise)

“I like this one,” you say, making a small eye contact glance with her.

“Do you want it? I can pay.”

“It’s okay, I’ll see what’s at Mia’s home, I seriously don’t think I can finish the small one alone!”

Vada gets to know you more the more Mia invites you. She notices the way you open up, instead of trying to politely look out the window so you don’t disrupt conversations that you aren’t sure what their about, the car is lively,

Loud.

The music is always turned down now, giggles are filled, sometimes there are jokes about classes, teachers, people, the past.

Sometimes there are questions, family, hobbies.

Vada learns you have two siblings, a much younger and much older one, older brother, younger sister.

You like to read and write, play the guitar, bake, you love going on sunsetty and late night drives, it makes her interested in that part.

When you told her, a part of her wanted to tell you, ‘I like late night drives too.’ Maybe she’ll drive you around the freeway on a summer weekend in the future.

She likes the way you include her, how you always include people to make sure they never feel lonely.

She begins to notice the way your smiles aren’t shy anymore, they’re genuine. She can feel the way you’re opening up to her, from the way you look at her in a way she doesn’t remember. You look at her like she feels like she’s the only girl you’re looking at. She sees how your eyes soften in your irises the more you listen to her speak.

Vada never thought she’d experience jealousy for the first time in her life.

Sure she’s felt it before, when her fists clench when she had gotten second place when she was younger. It was like an ember. But this time, it was much stronger.

It was during some school event her high school came up with, couples day or what not.

You sat next to Vada and Nick during lunch, Mia with her friend group usually at this time. You were huddled up to Vada, munching on some chips with your hair up.

“Omph, I think jazz is better than rock honestly,” you say, muffled with chips in your mouth.

“Mmm, reasonable.”

After taking a long refreshing sip of water, you and Vada stand up.

“Nick, me and Y/N are gonna meet up Mia in the hallway, ‘kay? See you weirdo,” Vada walks along with you as you two laugh with each other over random gossip.

As you see Mia in the distance, wanting to wave her over, your friend Liam grabs you by the waist, his hands gentle, flowers in his hand.

You almost jump. You met Liam around the first week of school, he was sweet, gentle-man like. He offered to study with you in the library after school.

“Y/N, hey,” he says, his voice like syrup. Too sweet for your liking, “Sorry for pulling you away. I just wanted to tell you something.”

You saw how Vada stood on the side, awkwardly, not to mention how she was glaring at Liam.

You turn back to the curled hair blonde in front of you, “That’s ‘kay, what is it?”

Liam hands you the flowers he was holding, leaving you, almost confused, your face heating up.

“Look, I know I didn’t know you for long, but you’re sweet, you know? No one ever has to talk bad about you and to be in this school as a person like that is rare. I kind of, you know, like you. You’re pretty, really smart, and have a personality of gold. I know you don’t really like me, but I’d like to know what you think.”

You stare at the flowers held in your hands, your hands feel clammy.

“Liam.. This is really sweet. I appreciate.. You know, you thinking of me in that silver lighting. It honestly, in a sense, makes me feel proud. Thanks. I, I think I need some time, I never thought of you as the kind of person I’d be in a relationship with. But maybe with time if we get to know each other.. You know.. Gosh I’m sorry.” Your voice trails off, a tight smile on your lips, seeing the way Liam nodded immediately in understanding. You felt bad. Rejecting the sweetest boy you ever knew in this school, you just never saw him as something more than a brother.

“Don’t be sorry Y/N, that’s okay, I know what you mean, I just wanted to tell you before it got out of hand, but hey, now that I told you, as long as we stay friends that’s okay. That won’t change any friendship right?”

“I promise,” you assure, smiling a little.

Liam nods again, flowers in your hand as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and leans in to kiss your forehead.

He then walks away and you look down at the flowers in hand.

“Okay, that was cheesy as hell,” Vada says, her voice almost annoyed, maybe from waiting to see Liam’s monologue.

“I didn’t even know he felt that way about me.”

Vada rolls her eyes, “Of course you don’t,” you can’t help but feel almost hurt from her words. It’s like she was calling you oblivious, ignorant.

“Why would he even give you flowers? Gosh, he’s going wild for you, you barely even know him. He’s doing too much for someone like you right now,” she scoffed, slightly, not knowing why someone that you haven’t known for a while would give you flowers so early when you didn’t know him that well. But she worded it so wrongly.

Offended, almost wounded, insulted. Did Vada really think you were the kind of person no one would like? Did one of your closest friends find you in a sense, unlovable?

Vada saw the way your figure tensed, your eyes narrowing, before looking like they were about to cry.

Shit.

God she’s never seen you cry before. Vada felt her heart almost shatter, seeing the way your eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She didn’t mean it in a rude way, god now that she thinks about it, that’s one of the rudest things she could say.

She didn’t mean it, Vada doesn’t even know why she said it, maybe she just didn’t think Liam was right for you.

She felt jealousy, and she could feel it herself. Maybe she wanted a sweet guy too.

Or maybe she just wanted you.

“God Y/N, I didn’t mean-” Vada reaches her hand to your shoulder and immediately you shrug it off.

“You don’t think that I’m lovable enough to truly be loved, is that what it is Vada?” You say, your eyes sharp, “You don’t think I’m capable of deserve someone like Liam? How do you even see me?” You murmur, looking obviously, something Vada never wanted in the first place, in disbelief to even feel a tear slip down to your cheek.

“No, I swear I just-”

The bell had rang, and before she could try to apologize, and run after you, you squeezed into the crowd of people, heading for the class Vada knew was the only one you didn’t have with her.

Mia watched from a distance, seeing how tears poured from your eyes as you pushed through the crowds of people.

It’s tense, sort of, when Mia drives to her house.

You’re not talking to Vada, headphones are in, basically screaming that you’re closed off right now. Vada wants to talk to you, but she doesn’t know how to apologize for something she didn’t mean.

You look at the window outside and she feels like this might’ve gone back to stage one, it might take weeks for you to open up again.

But yet again, you’re Y/N, she knows you too well to know that you would never try to ignore her for that long.

Mia has to turn up the music again, something that hasn’t really happened for almost a few months, making small talk with Vada.

When you get to her house, Vada holds the door for you, you don’t look at her, just mumble a small, “thanks.”

“Shoot, sorry guys, if you guys are okay with staying here for half an hour or so, that’d be great. I completely forgot I had to stay after school and drop off one of my friends,” Mia immediately slaps her face, grabbing her bag for dance as she looks back, “Fridge is open if you guys want snacks, remote is in the cabinet under the couch, and all those joints ‘n stuff are in the back. K, love you, see ya,” Mia says, blowing a funny air kiss before shutting the door.

Now it’s awkward, out of all days of course Mia has a practice.

It’s quiet, your headphones are hung around your neck, kicking your feet against the carpet uncomfortably, you don’t know if you want to speak.

“Please, can you talk to me?” Vada pleads, making you almost flinch.

“I’m sorry for what I said today, I swear I didn’t mean it in a mean way towards you. I hope you know me well enough to know I would never mean it, okay? I was just getting a little upset over the fact guys would try asking girls out when they don’t know them that much, you know?.. Um.. Yeah. I guess I got a little overprotective. So I’m sorry. I hate when we don’t talk, it makes me feel like you hate me and stuff.”

You look at her, tugging your bottom lip between your lips, then you breathe, “I don’t hate you Vads. I promise. I just got a little taken aback and I honestly felt a little hurt from your words, especially since I knew you weren’t the kind of person to say those things in a mean manner. I forgive you. I really care about you, it was just weird today. I already felt bad rejecting a sweet boy I met and I wasn’t expecting to have my feelings hurt about it, I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I swear I didn’t, I just didn’t think Liam should’ve asked you so early, I didn’t even think you gave any signs.”

You giggle, making Vada’s shoulders relax from your icy facade beginning to melt, “You sound jealous.”

“Oh, nuh-uh.”

“Mm..” You mutter, not believing her, and making her groan.

Vada quickly changes the topic, realizing how red her face was.

“Do you wanna.. Um, go outside? Take a breather for a bit.”

“Okay.”

As you two close the sliding door, Vada sits down next to you, the silence is now comfortable. Her eyes begin to linger on the pack of cigars in front of her.

“I know you’re not the kind to smoke, but do you wanna share a blunt with me?” Vada asks, softly, it’s a question that you know if you say no, she’ll completely get it.

You hesitate, you never smoked before, let alone want to. But you look at Vada’s eyes and your head nods yes.

“Okay.”

You can see the excitement on her face, she makes a small squeal as she begins to roll the blunt, lighting it up with a lighter, you see her brush off some of the dust.

She places her lips on the cigarette, inhaling softly, before exhaling the smoke and a plethora of smoky fog wafts around you.

Her soft eyebrows raise, her eyes flicking to the blunt and your eyes, offering it to you.

Vada hears you breathe, she can almost feel your breath on her face as you look at the cigarette.

“A little help here?” You ask, voice tiny, shy.

“Okay baby,” Vada jokes, seeing the way your lips try not to smile, but fail miserably.

Vada scoots closer to you, so you two are huddled up and she takes your hand, “Okay, you always spin your led pencil in class, just hold the blunt similarly.” She feels the warmth of your hand and it makes her breath hitch. She puts the blunt between your index and middle finger, in which you make sure to hold with grip. Vada taps on your thumb, “Up,” her voice instructs, in which you support your thumb to hold it.

“Hey, now you got it!” she pats your shoulder, like a ‘yay’

She leans closer to you, your face is mere inches apart as she gently places the end of the cigarette in your mouth. Immediately the smoke fills your senses and you look at Vada, she coaxes you, “Inhale, not too much.” You inhale, wait for a moment, then exhale.

“There you go, you’re making me feel like a teacher Y/N,” she clicks her tongue.

She sees the way you exhale through your mouth, and the smoke fades in front of her face, you take another hit, this time you’re full on staring at Vada, with your doe eyes deep into hers.

The smoke wafts around her again, and when you pass it to her, you lean into her. Hearing how her breath hitches, your body pressed against her.

It goes like that for a while, puff, puff, pass. Where Vada offers the blunt to you, but instead of taking it with your finger, your lips part and your teeth nibble on the cigarette for a moment.

It’s like a game. She doesn’t know if it’s the humor you’ve grown, or the teasing. The teasing. But the way you make eye contact with her while your lips capture the blunt you two have shared makes her stomach stir.

While you smoke and you feel the ease of tranquility wash over your senses, Vada grabs some munchies, cookies, some donuts Mia bought the other day, and some potato chips.

She can’t see you. But she knows you’re staring at her, she can feel the way she senses she’s being watched.

You’re there, staring at her, looking down at her baggy clothing, then looking back up while she puts down the snacks. Your cheeks are flushed, you hear the way the music on your phone is beginning to fade, because you’re here, staring at her.

You think you may have taken too many hits, it’s a different kind of high. You just want to take the potato chips and grow wings. Fly away from this place and go to Italy.

Vada notices, you look spaced out, but you’re staring at her. Not as captivated as you were once before, so she nudges you and you immediately look back up at her. She’s high, she sees a glint in your mesmerizing eyes. A glint that makes her want to pull you closer.

“I feel high,” you state, you don’t notice how you sound till your speech is slurred.

“I think we’ve caught on to that,” Vada laughs, with a roll of her eyes as you snack on potato chips.

“I feel like you're prettyyy Vadss.. Pretty dope and badass,” you say, your fingers showing a peace sign and Vada busts out laughing.

“You have some nasty high that makes you use my kind of slang huh Y/N?”

You’re staring again, except the only difference now is she can tell what kind of stare it is. And this time it makes her feel weird, she can’t put her finger on it.

“Oh yeah, uh huh, yeppers,” you murmur, munching on potato chips and throwing it across the outside couch you sat on, “Can we have a cheese pizza instead with tickling my pickling pickle?..”

Flying. You feel like you’re flying, breathing out and in that smoke. Vada feels like she should be laughing but by the time she feels that she already is.

The cigarette in your hand gets twisted and her footsteps on it, cracking it.

“Think that’s enough for today Y/N, you’re not speaking from the heart.”

“Pickles?”

“No.”

“Dill.”

“No pickles!”

“Yes pickl-No!!!-okay..”

Finally, Vada drags you inside Mia’s house, carrying you to the couch and tossing you on it.

“WeeeEeeEEeEEE,” you’re acting silly. Vada has never seen this care-free, childish side in you.

“I think you’re gonna need to sleep this high off sleeping beauty.”

“I can’t sleeeeeep.”

“Well you need to sleep,” Vada forces, authority lacing her voice. You make a grumble.

“Okay fine,” the small cushion on the couch shifts from you moving around so much. Vada watches you in the corner of your eye, finding it a little cute the way you are right now.

She was going to buy some dill pickles while you closed your eyes, but you seemed like you couldn’t, making Vada sigh and approach you.

“Scooch,” her voice rings in your ears, rubbing your hair softly as you make a tired, grumpy sound and scoot a little, your body wrapped into a marshmallowy blanket.

She doesn’t think she would do this, but if she can make you shut up a little bit, and feel your warmth, maybe it’ll be okay. The shorter brunette feels the way you curl into her body and melt like putty. She doesn’t think much of it, what you two are sharing right now.

Vada feels fond, to let you feel safe in her arms, is something she will always cherish.

Her voice hushes you, pressing her lips to your forehead, while you murmur about pickles. The whispers begin to die down, like the ending of a symphony. She cuddles you, you nudge your nose into her chest, “Don’t go Vads..” your voice is barely heard, but she can hear it, “Stay.”

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” her pinky raises up and interlocks with yours.

“Okay.”

“Now sleep angel,” her voice is teasing, but part of it she feels like you’ve grown on her, this childish side that she finds sweet.

You don’t respond, of course you don’t, because as soon as she looks down at you asleep on her chest. And by the time she can even process, Vada is asleep with you.

Mia comes home seeing you two sleep together, taking 5 photos and even having the time to take 2 polaroid pictures of you two wrapped into each other.

“Those two are going to be together soon.”

It’s the fourth time you’ve watched Shrek in film class. 4 damn times for 2 months.

Vada is starting to tick, you giggle at it. But she finds Shrek so iconic, she can’t bring herself to hate it. Well for now.

“I fucking feel like I can actually memorize each line by now,” she mutters, it makes you and Mia laugh even harder.

“Why doesn’t Ms. Valentina choose the movies after that? It’s always just Shrek 1.”

Vada doesn’t even know by now.

The lights turn off, the only sunshine you can see is from the warmth of the sun that creeps into the blinds. The best part of having film in this period is that she always has it first on Fridays. Which means when the light switches turn off, it’s the queue where everyone pushes the desks and gets comfy, the desks stay on the side for the rest of the day.

After grunts and small clatter of water bottles falling down from people pushing the desks, everyone crawls to their spot in their own little friend group they have.

Vada already has the couch in the back of the classroom reserved, she doesn’t give no shits, if she’ll fight for it she will.

You find it a little funny, since you remember how people stopped trying to fight, she’s persistent.

She pats the seat next to her and you sit next to her. Mia sits next to you.

And for the rest of the period you three gossip, curl into each other, and chatter.

Once again, at the end of the school day, you, Vada, and Mia are laying together on the couch with several blankets and stuffed animals stacked on top of each other.

“Pass the popcorn please,” you nudge Mia, who’s holding the large popcorn box filled with buttery popcorn (that she kept when she ordered a jumbo sized popcorn box from the movies, that cost 10 damn dollars.) Mia passes it to Vada, which munches on a handful, then hands it to you. Of course with you ending up with some popcorn thrown into your hair.

You happy snack on the popcorn, munching and crunching. Vada and your hands dig into the bottom with the richer buttered popcorn. The brunette’s cheeks feel warm from feeling your hand. Maybe from the blanket. Maybe from the heat of the popcorn. Or maybe something else.

Mia regrets asking Vada for a movie recommendation. As soon as she sees Vada search up ‘Sh’ on the search bar, she groans, seeing how Vada clicked Shrek.

For the second, fucking, time, today.

As the movie begins to roll, the blonde whispers, “If I have children, I’m never gonna let them watch this. It’s been playing way more than enough and I am not risking having to play it every morning when I’m older.”

Vada snorts, “I’m going to tell your children that it’s a great movie, so great that they’ll play it morning and night.”

It goes like that for the next 30 minutes, you two are snug, with a fluffy weighted blanket draped over the three of you as the movie continues.

As the forty five minute mark surpasses, Vada is distracted in the movie. She’s seen it 4 times, yet she’s still watching it. She feels a faint pressure press against her shoulder, she brushes it off, she knows that it’s her brain signaling her to stop watching the movie.

She doesn’t.

But as the minutes pass, the pressure stays, if not stronger.

She feels curious, turning her head away from the projector to find you asleep peacefully on her shoulder. Vada’s eyes soften at the sight of your lips parted, gentle breaths blowing on her neck from your lips and the white of the blanket covering your chin. You’re asleep, and it brings her back to you two asleep on each other the other day. But this time it feels different. You two aren’t high.

You were curled up to her, with your legs tucked and faced to the edge of the couch. She’s seen you asleep before, when you were so tired one hung out that Mia lent you your room. Vada only peeked inside to see you asleep and still like a rock. You aren’t the kind to fall asleep easily, let alone snore. But Vada could hear a soft snore fall from your lips.

Vada can’t help it, but she feels a grin trying to form on her face, as you curl up to her, she tucks a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Now your hair is draped all over her shoulders, she sniffs it, nudging her nose to your hair. Your shampoo smells again like strawberries.

Except this time it smells more intoxicating.

It smells so lightly sweet. But it makes her feel dizzy, her nose to the top of your head, relying on your scent to comfort her.

You shift lightly, a soft murmur being made as your eyes slightly twitch, but fall asleep just as fast when she takes a strand of hair in her fingertips and curls it.

As you're asleep and Vada is focused on you, Mia mumbles against her, quiet enough to not wake you. The TV was already loud enough, plus you were all the way in the corner.

“You like Y/N,” she says, and it wasn’t an opinion, it was a rhetorical statement.

Vada slows down with her fingers curling in your hair, turning to face Mia.

She feels a stutter get caught into her throat, “Uh, w-wait what?”

“You like Y/N,” she says again, her blue eyes looking at Vada, searching for an answer. An answer she already knew, she just needed to hear it from her.

“N-no, what? Mia, what makes you think that?”

It sounds stupid to the blonde, a small laugh coming from her, she speaks quieter so you can’t hear her, although you’re knocked off asleep.

“Well, to start off, since she stepped into our film class for the first day, you couldn’t stop staring at her Vads. And when I invited her so we could get to know her better, I’ve never seen you so quiet with someone until you met her. You’re always so open to meeting new people. At first, I thought you were nervous,” Mia laughs, finding it almost unbelievable when she says it out loud, “and never thought the Vada Cavell would be nervous to meet new people. But you look at her like the missing puzzle piece you’ve taken years to find. You look at her like she’s given you the light to your universe.”

Vada wants to roll her eyes, tell Mia how insane she is, she wants to throw her hands in the air. But she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to wake you up, she just wants to press her lips to your forehead and tell you that everything is okay when you wake up.

But it all comes down at her at once. She can’t believe it herself. Well she knew she felt something. The the way she sees things now. Where she’d walk into a library filled with books and think, “Y/N would love it here.” Or when she’d smell the aroma in the air when Amelia and her mother would bake cookies together, and can’t help, but think about you.

Mia herself has a guitar, and when there are days when you can’t make it, Vada spends two hours as her best friend talks to her to practice. So maybe one day, when she sees you pull out her guitar, she’ll say, “I can play it too.”

And when your pretty eyes already reveal the yearn you feel to hear her play, she’ll play all the songs that she’s practiced while she eagers you to cuddle up to her. Then you’ll realize they are all your favorite songs. Because Vada spent every two hours when you’re not there to practice for you.

She hears Mia keep speaking, “You bring her up every time you can, okay? You’re reminded of her everywhere you go, and I’ve never seen you or her look at someone the way you do with each other. Remember that day you two first met? The whole car rode to seven eleven, you were staring at her staring at the window.”

“You’re falling for her day by day Vada,” Mia says, and the brunette can see the way Mia begins to smile, “You just don’t notice it until you realize how much she means to you. You used to refuse to take the extra guitar I had, but when you saw the way she played riffs, you took it and played songs that you knew one day you would want to play for her.”

Mia pauses, then speaks again, “You should’ve seen how shattered she was when you grew over protective of her and said some things that came out wrong. You didn’t see the way as soon as she left for 5th period she was going to cry. Come on, and you two fucking fell asleep with each other. It’s like I’m reading the slowest burn wattpad book in reality.”

The shorter girl is still stroking through your hair, as you’re asleep with soft snores coming out of your mouth every once in a while, still trying to process something she knew was true for a long time.

Vada doesn’t want to admit it, but she exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding, “I don’t know. I just feel really fond of her I guess. She’s grown really special to me and I think she’s someone I never knew I needed in my life. She’s there to you know, listen. Or be open to whatever..” Vada plays with the string of her oversized shorts while letting you nuzzle to her neck. “I guess she’s more important to me than I thought.”

Mia silently squeals, nudging Vada’s shoulder, “You can’t not convince me she likes you too, okay? Now you better fucking confess or I’m going to do a backflip and crack your neck open.”

Vada hasn’t felt nervous since she met you, but today she was nervous nervous. She bought sky blue, pink, ivory, and sweet apple tulips.

It feels so cheesy, but she’s fucking here for it.

She prepares a basket with everything she knows about you, lego flowers, a cow stuffy with some random coquette bow attached to it, (that she may have not asked your older brother what animal you liked.) As soon as she shopped, the cute little cow with the laced bow wrapped around it was calling for her.

She fills the basket with kisses, tears off the most beautiful, raw pieces of poetry, she read and thought of you. She tears the extra copies of the songs she played on the guitar because of you, and adds it as scraps.

And of course, she adds small fairy lights, then attaches all the photos she has with you. She has never been more thankful for Mia always taking 2 polaroids whenever you take one together, so she can keep one and add it to her memory book.

She’s anxious, picking at her fingers, it’s like when she first experienced the shooting. Except this is a hundred times worse.

Mia drops her off Saturday morning, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “The worst she can say is no,” and by the way Vada clenches the basket she has for you, Mia quickly adds, “Which is a .00001% chance. Trust me, I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Vada rolls her eyes, clearly not helping easing her anxiety as she closes the door and approaches your door, knocking softly.

When it’s open, she’s greeted with the sight of a newly awoken you, looking sleepy, but she thinks it makes you even cuter.

You’re wearing the plaid pants she lent you, she remembers you couldn’t stop wearing it because it was so comfy. She let you have her extra fourth pair. She found it funny whenever she saw you waddling around in her oversized clothes.

“Mhh..” You keep rubbing your eyes, a yawn escaping out of you, “Vads it’s 8AM on a Saturday morning, what’s going o-” you finally open your eyes to have a nervous fidgety Vada with tulips, some Valentine's day throwup basket and a heart shaped balloon.

Vada takes a deep breath before pushing the tulips towards your way, “Okay, Y/N, I don’t know what to say. But I wanted to tell you for a while now. I notice the way I bring you up everyday, or how long my gaze lingers when you’re in the same room as me. Or how I find a way to bring our friendship up every second I can. I’ve grown the motivation to do the hobbies I’ve seen you once do. And.. I’m not the person to.. Get nervous when I meet people for the first time. But, you’ve been someone who I feel protective over, and you’re special to me in a way where you’re someone I didn’t ever think I needed in my life. But meeting you has really made you be the highlight of my day. I didn’t think it was possible to feel butterflies, let alone these fluttering sparks when you’re near. Or to realize the feelings I felt when Liam gave you flowers and wanted to ask you out was jealousy. It just feels right to have you with me, here. You’ve really distracted me from all the things I’ve found stressful, and no one has ever been able to do that. I didn’t even think it was possible. I-I don’t even know how, but it was like some invisible string tied us when I met you, but I’m so thankful you’re in my life. And it’s so weird to say this now..”

Vada pauses, catching her breath and trying not to make eye contact with you, but she can see your cheeks getting rosy. Your hands are full with her flowers. You certainly don’t look awkward like you once did with Liam. More like, overly shy now. You’re blushing. And this time your hands don’t feel clammy. This time, you’re so desperate to feel her hands on your waist and have your hands tucked around her to hug her.

Vada gulps and blurts out almost too quickly to comprehend, “But I like you. Will you go out for dinner with me this Friday night? I get if you don’t feel the same, and I just want you to know I don’t want our friendship to be ruined at all but-”

“Vada, I’d love to go out with you.” You interrupt, wanting her to shut up and kiss you. To do all the sweet things you thought of when you smoked with her, to fly with her and carry her home.

“R-really? You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I think.. I don’t know, I think we’ve grown really really close, in a way where I never had someone that I could rely on so much. I really didn’t think meeting you could, you know, make my day a hundred times better, and I always felt confused with my feelings, you know? In a way where I feel like friends shouldn’t feel the sweet way I think about you?”

“Yeah..” Vada murmurs, “Yeah,” she says, more understanding.

She turns to you, you look like spring. The season, with your hands filled with flowers, your hair perfectly ruffled and your hair curling in your ends. Vada speaks again, “Do you want to give us a try? You know, I just don’t ever want us to not be friends one day because we didn’t work out.”

“Please,” you whisper, and when you say that she immediately pulls you in for a hug.

This hug is just as comforting as all the other ones she’s given you in the past. But now, the thought of this hug being something more isn’t there anymore. Because it is something more. It makes you bury your nose into her chest.

Mia smiles in the distance, snapping a photo of you two hugging, “Those two love birds, I called it.”

Friday night

Here you are, in a black dress you remember you fell in love with when you went shopping. It was a simple dress where your shoulders were exposed, a laced neck and you put on some hoops.

The dress was not too short, but it stopped a little before your knees.

And of course, a string tying the prettiest bow on the back of your waist, you didn’t want to admit it, but you felt pretty when you looked at the mirror.

Your mother dropped you off outside of the restaurant Vada reserved.

She kisses your cheek goodbye, winking for good luck as you wave and watch her go. Now you kind of regret not bringing a jacket. You should’ve brought the leather one you were thinking about at the last minute, and decided not to.

Your headphones are plugged in, you’re 15 minutes early, and as the minutes tick, you feel colder from the sun beginning to set.

Cologne by beabadoobee is playing, you ruffle your curled hair, till you feel the music abruptly stop and your headphones being wrapped around your neck.

You can hear Vada’s voice, ruffling your hair, “Hi,” she says, not more awkward than you feel right now. You feel her gaze linger on your figure, and suddenly you feel hot, the cold you felt 5 minutes ago was completely gone.

She rubs your shoulders, and you can tell what you’re wearing just made her fall much more for you.

What she’s wearing is not Vada. Not her basketball shorts and oversized tees. This is Vada, in all black with the lightest makeup, you can still see the freckles you love. Her hair is half up half down, and you brush her bangs to the side.

“Vads,” you breathe, and the way you call her that makes her heart pound ferociously, “You look pretty.”

“I tried my best, how do I look, silly pretty girl?” Vada twirls her dress, making you laugh.

“Like something Vada would never wear, but I love it.”

“You’re the one to talk, all soft and shy girl wearing something that I would definitely not stop staring at this whole evening. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, come on Y/N,” she tugs your wrist slightly, noticing how your wrists are decorated with the bracelets you two made together in the past. It makes her smile while she points at it, “Good decoration choice.”

“Only for the best.”

As you two enter the restaurant, you reach for Vada’s hand, she can see the way you’re searching for her. Like a puppy whining for its mother. She drifts her hand towards you and interlaces it with yours.

The place is dimly lit. The only light is from the sunsetty view and the fairy lights that are hung.

It’s romantic.

And you feel all blushy, like some teenage girl in a friends to lovers book.

Vada feels the way you grasp onto her hands, your fingertips squeezing, she can already tell you’re nervous, she calms you down with a circle with her thumb on the back of your palm.

You two sit next to each other, looking at the menu.

It’s getting a little cold, and you shift, “Okay, not to ruin the mood, but I have no clue what in the hell I should get,” Vada laughs, the Y/N humor she knew was clearly showing.

“What about we share some alfredo and their bread? Their bread is so filling and to die for.”

You nod, to go with the flow, “Okay Vads, whatever you think is good must be yummy.”

You two order and spend the time talking, by the next 15 minutes of waiting, you’re cuddled into her, playing with her hair.

“Hey, you’re messing my hair up silly.”

“I like playing with it. It’s very smooth!”

Vada presses her lips to your temple, rubbing your cheeks to make your blush more apparent.

“Stop that.”

“Well I think it’s cute when your face is all pink.”

You make a quiet whine, Vada still smells your toasted marshmallow and strawberry scent. The scent she could never get tired of. The intoxicating sweetness.

A few moments later with cuddles and talks, your food arrives and you share the noodles, digging in. Vada drapes your hair back so it won't fall into the sauce. As you eat and munch, Vada twirls the noodles on her fork and brings it to your lips, looking into your eyes. You look back up at her, feeling tiny as you open your mouth and she feeds you. You feed her back, letting her rub the small speck of sauce on your cheek with her thumb.

“Stop being so shy,” Vada whispers, nudging your nose to hers.

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never done this before,” you whisper back.

“Well, it’s just me, nothings gonna change, I swear, maybe I’ll throw more pillows during pillow fights though,” she jokes, and that makes you nuzzle your nose more to hers.

You press your lips to her cheek and continue snacking on bread rolls and dessert.

“The stars are really bright today,” you say, your hand in Vadas as you two are staring at the scene above you, the sunset long gone and replaced with the light from the moon.

“Wellll, I think that just means that we’re amazing for each other, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Nope, it’s a yes.”

“Yep.”

The heat you felt when you first saw Vada when your date began was gone, you were cold. No doubt did the girl not notice, seeing your slightly trembling figure. She drapes her leather jacket over you as you make a small noise of appreciation, sniffling your nose. The jacket immediately warms you up, you pull it to your shoulders more.

Her soft eyes look down at you, and she sees the way the stars reflect off your eyes, those eyes. She feels lucky to be able to be greeted by them every single day you’re around.

“Thank you for today,” you finally breathe, and Vada boops your nose.

“Well thank you for always being sweet and silly. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anyone else.”

You boop her nose back, sharing a slurpee that of course you got from seven eleven. It brings her deja vu. To remember how you first politely refused on buying a slurpee when you first met Vada. Then beginning to use the trick she taught you to poke your finger under the dispenser and lick your finger. Then buying your own small slurpee. Then to share it with one straw.

As you two reach her house, she twirls you on the porch and lifts you up, making you squeal and giggle. It’s quiet, comfortable silence as she looks down at your lips. And she knows you want her too. Your legs wrap around her, and you lean and press your lips to hers.

She feels sparks and a flock of butterflies stirring in your stomach when you’re around, but as she feels your soft, warmth of your lips on hers, she feels fireworks. Electricity shocking her whole body. She hears you make a soft moan of longing, something you wanted for so long. She wanted you for so long too. Her lips press against yours more, feeling your desperateness as she leans more pressure onto you. You taste like sweet strawberries, indulging on the way you make a noise of wanting more more more of her lips as her tongue runs over your bottom lip.

You both pull away, panting, cheeks flushed, your body feels like it’s flaming into oblivion, she grabs your waist tightly, then a small smile forms on both of your faces.

“I’m pretty sure you kiss during like.. Your fourth date.”

“Oh,” Vada says, faking to look sad before cracking up a grin, “Oh well, we’re too in love with each other and we broke that! Too bad, so sad.”

You giggle as she twirls you around and brings you into her room, kissing your neck along the way, she tosses you into the bed and you squeal, kicking your legs as she crawls next to you.

“Come here,” she whispers, you scoot closer to embrace and she wraps her arms around you, switching the fireplace on and playing some music in the background.

She spoons you, but you turn your front to be pressed to her chest, feeling her kisses on your neck and her fingers ghosting along your jawline.

“Pretty girl,” she coos, seeing the way you were a little tired, “Sleepy?”

“Yes.”

You bury your nose into her, her sweet, musky, coconut scent comforts you. The way your scent mixes and it just smells so… Your eyes are fluttering before you can come up with a thought. You stir in Vada’s arms, feeling her arms wrapped around your waist and your limbs tangled together.

“Don’t let go, stay,” you whisper, like you once did before in the past.

“I won’t, pinky promise, I’ll be here baby. Go to sleep, okay?”

You both begin to fall asleep, with polaroids hanging off you wrapped around vines around Vada’s bed. There was one with you two holding slushies and showing off your purple tongues, another one with you two in a group photo, one that Vada loved the most, where you two were cuddling.

miaa: you owee meee omg u guys r adorable, update me tmmrw vads

Your pinkies interlock and your cuddle up to her. She can see the way your eyes twitch from closing. She knows you’re asleep when she hears your breathing begin to even out. And she definitely knows she’s your comfort, because a soft snore slips out of you no longer than 5 minutes later.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n

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hentyehottie · 4 months

Text

‎✧ lovesick!chifuyu x hyperfem!bimbo reader : A jealous, pining Chifuyu finally gets the courage to approach you after watching you fraternize with Mitsuya ♡

black fem reader, chubby bimbo reader, reader is a fashion girlie! not really mentioned but chifu studies literature, semi-public sex (I think), kinda whiny reader, kind of a shift at the end. lovesick!chifuyu, reader is a maneater not a mean girl! (jk) Mitsuya & Takemichi make an appearance! There’s like one b*ji spoiler, standing doggy, slight choking, pussy eating, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), excuse any mistakes, MDNI

author’s note: for my bby @prtttycocobuttvr 🫶🏾chile this has been in the drafts for idk how long 🥲 extra long for literally no reason, the bulk of it isn’t even the smut…the ending is so abrupt 😭 but I really needed this out my drafts

wc: 3.7k

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Every now and then Chifuyu thinks back to the day the two of you met.

He fucking hated you at first, he’s ashamed to admit. Was it really hate though? Could’ve been annoyance, jealousy maybe? A lil bit of both is what he’ll chalk it up to. It was love at first sight for him, meanwhile you never gave a second glance in his direction.

He started seeing you more as the weeks passed, the two of you had no classes together, but he still saw you around far too often. You smelled just like marshmallows or vanilla, something sweet that demanded his attention every single fucking time you strutted past him.

It became a routine—class, cafe and lastly the library where he’d find you doing anything but reading.

Once a quiet safe haven for him to relax with a good book, now overtaken by the clicks and clacks of you touching up your makeup, or the rustle of a potato chip bag while you sit there with your pink Hello Kitty headphones watching some Netflix drama, even the constant sucking and the jumbling of ice as you slurp down every drop of your boba coffee while waiting for your newest minion to finish your homework.

That day was supposed to be no different. You and one of your minions were heading to that same table, around the same time you always arrived. You looked so damn good too. You always did.

He was obsessed with your new hair color, black girl blonde is what he learned it’s called. Ash blonde with dark chocolate roots and it’s just so damn pretty he’s losing his fucking mind. Your face is fresh and bare, no makeup aside from a dark blackish-brown lip liner and gloss. Lashes full and fluffy, you must’ve gotten them filled over the weekend.

His eyes are trailing your every move, waiting for the glimpse of your backside that never came.

“Hiiiii Mitsu & friends!” You leaned down to drape yourself over the lavender’s shoulders. Chifuyu tries to keep his cool, brows furrowed and eyes almost as wide as saucers as he watched this strange display.

And friends? How fucking pathetic is that. Granted, he didn’t know your name either, often referring to you as “that pretty girl” when he spoke about you to Baji’s grave but fuck, that made him feel like shit.

It’s the first time he’s heard that cute voice of yours and it’s when you’re greeting Takashi fucking Mitsuya?? You guys seem well acquainted and it burns Chifuyu up inside, when the fuck did you two get all buddy-buddy? And what the fuck did Mitsuya have that he didn’t?

He wonders who initiated the first contact, wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mitsuya, he’d always had the confidence a loser like him lacked. He was also very good with women, unlike Chifuyu. Then again, you seem very bubbly and outgoing so it very well could’ve been you who approached him.

“Here are those fabric swatches I was telling you about. If you decide to use any just let me know! I have tons of rolls and I can bring you some yards.” You hand him a couple of squares of fabric. At least ten 4x4 squares that you took the time to cut and string on a little o-ring like paint swatches. So cute.

“Thank you, y/n!” He smiles. “I’ll surely let you know.”

Just like that, you’re heading over to your table, minion hot on your heels.

It’s a quick exchange, and it should’ve been harmless, but boy does it boil his blood. God, did you speak to everyone but him?!

“Y/N,” Damn, he learned your name, heard your voice and watched you diss him all in one sitting. It was insane. “You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve only spoken a few times but she’s super friendly. She’s an exchange student from the states, a fashion major too, we have classes together.” Mitsuya spoke as he sketched out a few designs for a project.

“This would make a nice jacket.” He shows Takemichi the blush pink corduroy square for him to feel. “Maybe pants too if she has enough. It’d look nice on Koko, he’s my model.” “It would! It’s nice and soft, like velvet! Koko’s super pretty too, it’ll look great.”

He steals glances at you every now and then.

“Just talk to her dude, she’s literally so sweet.”

He doesn’t raise his head, still sketching away, but it’s clear who his words are directed to. Mitsuya has known him for quite some time, of course he knew how to read his pragmatic friend.

“Yeah! Unless you’re scared.”

He cuts his eyes at the crybaby blonde. Of course he wasn’t scared, just a bit apprehensive is all.

He looks your way one last time.

Your back is to him and you have your MacBook open in front of you watching a recap of celebrity metgala looks. You’re enamored by your fashion content, even taking notes in your cute notebook with your adorable pom-pom pen. You’re too oblivious—too much of an airhead in your own dumb little world to notice that simp eye fucking you.

Dude’s practically drooling while staring at your tits. It’s disgusting, enraging even. It boiled his blood, so much that he’s scooting his chair back to approach the both of you. Takemichi and Mitsuya watched him with careful eyes, since he didn’t say a word before he made his move. Fuck it, his pride was already shot and he didn’t have shit else to lose.

You didn’t even notice him at first, both airpods in, now staring into your hello kitty shaped compact mirror while reapplying that sticky beauty supply lipgloss all over your plump pout.

Before he could even stop himself he’s snatching up your homework sheet, scanning his eyes over this chump’s work. Wrong. Wrong. Most were either fucking wrong or incomplete! Complete bullshit and he was gonna let you turn that in?!?

“Get the fuck outta here.” He’s speaks so calmly, it’s all the more sinister.

The four-eyed geek is snatching up his bag and calculator so damn fast you’d think Chifuyu had a gun to his head.

It pissed him off so bad! But why did it piss him off so bad?

Probably because you’ve approached everyone but him as if he’s not one of the smartest people on this fucking campus. Probably fucked them all too, so why were you being so damn stingy with him? And why the hell was he so worried about it?

Chifuyu motions to sit down next to you, thighs spread with his hands clasped between them. He run’s his sweaty palms along his pants every now and then, trying to build the courage to speak to you.

You give your lips one last smack, capping your lipgloss and shutting your compact. “Hey, you’re Mitsu’s friend! Do you know where…nevermind. I don’t even remember his name.”

“He said he had something to do, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh okay. What’s up?” You finally give him your undivided attention, dropping your stuff into your little designer baguette bag, turning in your chair until you’re facing him. You’re almost instantly entranced by those striking eyes, iris’ the color of sea glass. The dark locks of his undercut styled messy and wild. He’s cute. Real cute.

“I like you.” Chifuyu has never been one to beat around the bush, even though his heart was nearly beating out of his chest right about now.

“You don’t know me to like me, so if you wanna fuck me, just say that.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Must be used to it by now, constant fetishizing instead of genuine attraction. But the way he’d been pining over you was much deeper than someone who just wanted a quick fuck. You plagued his mind—his thoughts, all you.

He runs his tongue over his lips, not in a creepy way, but because he’s nervous and they’re dry. Either way you still notice it, it’s kinda hot honestly.

“I do. I mean I would, but I don’t want to-I don’t have to,” He’s stumbling all over his words and it’s fucking embarrassing. Word vomit, is what Mitsuya calls it, it starts and there’s no telling when it stops.

“Regardless, I wanna know you–I think you’re so pretty, I like your style, the way you dress and stuff. And I’ll do your homework, if you want. Or I can actually show you how to do it, cus’ if you turn this garbage in you’re sure to fail.” Chifuyu tosses out. He barely wanted to do his own, so why the fuck was he offering to do yours? Was he that desperate for your attention?

You’re twirling your hair around your finger, head tilted. You’d never had one of them offer to teach you, just always offering to do it just to be in your space.

“Hmmm..so you wanna be my tutor. I guess, but what’s in it for me?”

The blackette could feel his eye start to twitch, there’s no way you were serious. “I’m doing your homework and tutoring you for free, what the fuck else do you want from me?” He scoffs.

Greedy bitch.

“Boy please, I can have any of these other guys doing my homework. You obviously want something from me and I just wanna know what you’ll offer me in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I’just want you.”

You stare at him and he stares back, that adorable face of his morphed into a slight pout. He holds eye contact the entire time, it’s almost intimidating, but his aura is so light and genuine.

He’s a strange boy, you’ve concluded, but it’s intriguing.

“Why?”

“I don’t fuckin know,” He truly doesn’t know, you’re just a dumb girl he happened to see at school. Not the first and definitely not the last, but you’ve been on his mind since he first laid eyes on you. “But I like you, a lot. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was infatuated and he didn’t know why.

You divert your eyes, tapping your puffball of your pen against the wooden table. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

There’s a pause, you look at him and he looks at you before he sucks his teeth. “You’re joking.” Even still, he feels the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock.

“You said whatever I want.” He needs to make sure he heard that correctly. Was it a test? A prank? Because you’re obviously just fucking with him. “But if it’s too forward, we can just study I guess.”

He’s silent and so are you but the way he’s boring into your soul makes you wish you never brought it up at all. “You serious?”

You nod, batting your fluffy mink lashes at him and as lame as it sounds, that’s all it took.

Next thing he knew, Chifuyu was eating his crush’s pussy in one of the private study rooms. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he fell to his knees, eager to slurp on your pretty, plump cunt.

The library is old. One of the oldest buildings on campus, hasn’t been renovated since it was built. A private study room was the perfect place—just a windowless, concrete box where no one could see or hear you leaned on your back with your feet in the air while he sucked on your pussy.

Your clit is juicy and suckable, the pink nub catches his attention the minute he slid your panties down and spread your thighs open.

He’s used to keeping his face stuffed in a book back here, now he’d much rather have his face stuffed between your thighs every second of the day.

You’re a sight to see right now, tits spilling out from under your top, panties looped around one of your ankles and your skirt is flipped up and out of the way, away from the mess he’s making between your thighs.

He’s so messy with it, spitting on it and slurping it back up, licking stripes up your sweet pussy until your clit is peeking out of its hood.

“So good.” He breathes out, spreading you wider. From your hole, all the way up and back down again, his tongue leaves no part of your cunt untouched. He’s dragging up one last time before sucking your cute little clit between his lips, running his hands up and down your plush thighs and belly.

After a while you lean up and your shaky hands manage to pry those supple pink lips away from your clit, his lips leaving your pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’. “Waittt, I never got your name.” You whined.

As if names, or lack there of, had ever stopped you. But you desperately wanted to know his and you wanted to scream it when you came—which would be very soon if he kept sucking on your clit like that.

He’s gazing up at you with those dazzling seafoam green eyes, silvery strands of your slick still connected to his lips when he pulls away from your pussy.

“Chif-fuck...” He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, resting his head on your thigh for a moment. Your hand is running through his hair, back and forth petting motions until his breathing slowed. “Chifuyu. Matsuno..Chifuyu.”

He rarely gave his full name, at least not to people he held no respect for. But you were different, he just knew you were. He’d never been this intrigued by another person since middle school when he met the infamous Baji.

“Chi-fu-yu. Chif-uyu.”

You test it on your tongue, wanting to get every syllable right. It makes him fucking melt, the sound of his name flowing from your glossy lips is so pretty. Fuck, he needed to hear you moaning, screaming and babbling it like a little slut. His little slut.

He wastes no time pressing his lips back to your pussy, licking thick stripes up and down, fat tongue relentlessly teasing your entrance and dragging back up to your clit.

“F-fuck how are you so good at this..” It catches you off guard. His head is sloppy and nasty, but not too wet with just enough teasing to drive you insane. It’s almost as if he’d been acquainted with your pussy before this, but you know there’s no way.

You barely notice how your body subconsciously rocks against him, rubbing your pussy up and down his face, your clit bumping his little button nose every single time.

Your question falls on deaf ears.

The once bright-eyed boy is now staring at you, his eyes alarmingly low and glossed over as he loses himself.

He’s too far gone now, lost in absolute bliss between your thighs—the taste of your gooey, sticky cunt, your moans, the feel of your thighs trembling. Pussydrunk wasn’t even the word.

He lets you use him. Lets his tongue hang slack against his chin for you to grind your puffy clit against it. His face is wet and sticky and he’s covered up to his cheeks in your slick. He can barely breathe, you’re rocking far too fast for him to get a breath in, but even still Chifuyu would eat your pussy until he was blue in the face if it meant pleasing you.

Every inhale is laced with your scent and it’s like an aphrodisiac. Everything about this was so perfect. He can feel the shivers running up and down your body—you’re close, he knows it and that’s when he gets relentless.

“G-nna cum for you baby..can I cum?”

Christ, the way his dick jumped should’ve been a sin. Chifuyu hums against your clit, groans his approval so his lips don’t have to abandon your perfect pussy again. You can feel every single lick & suck and even the puffs of air he breathes out of his nose as he slurps on your cunt, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Chifuyu. Mmm, I’m cumming. Chifu-”

Your climax hits you like a punch to the gut, knocks the wind out of you and has you doubling over with your hands tangled in his dark locks, your trembling thighs squeezing against his neck.

Your moans and pants are so sexy, he loves you like this. You don’t even realize you’re running from him until he grips your hips tighter, pulling you forward and holding you taut.

He’s desperate to drink up all you’ll give him, thick tongue gliding over your hole before he’s shoving it inside. Not a drop of your lovely essence goes to waste as you let him get his fill.

The chime of the desk phone startles you and forces him to part from your cunt. He looks at you and you look at him, you make no move to get it forcing him to.

“Chifuyu!” The librarian calls, he frequents this place so often that the two of them have gotten quite familiar. “Sorry to bother you and your girlfriend, but the library closes soon-“ She’s checking her watch. “In about ten minutes hun.”

“Ah, okay! Thank you Miss and she’s not-” When he catches the dial tone he places the phone back on the receiver.

“She says we have ten minutes until the library closes.”

Before he can even finish, you’re already on your knees shoving his joggers and underwear down in one swift move. His dick is gorgeous—thick with a pretty pink tip. You’re not sure about the size, seven maybe seven and a half inches. Either way, it fills your mouth perfectly, big and heavy on your tongue as you lick the precum dripping from the tip.

The minute he feels your mouth on him he nearly loses all control, knees threatening to give. Chifuyu grips your jaw, popping his cock out of your mouth with an audible ‘pop.’

He notices a dip in between your brows. A frown?

A pouty frown on your pretty face accompanied by a roll of your eyes. So cute.

“Chifuuu,” You whining his name is tearing him apart inside, staring up at him with those doe eyes. “We only have 10 minutes. I wanna make you cum.”

He’s pulling you back up, spinning you until your ass is pressed against his crotch.

“I know pretty…I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice is breathy, desperate. “That okay?”

It’s soft but he hears it. The soft ‘yeah’ tumbling from your lips, the small gasps of anticipation as you raise up on your tip toes to meet his height. He’s sliding his length through the junction of your thighs, coating himself in your slick.

It’s so good, this little crevice between your thighs and cunt feels like heaven. Like the warmest hug embracing him with every push and pull of his hips.

He has to force himself to pull away. He wouldn’t be able to face you again if he came from fucking your thighs.

Blunt fingertips melt into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch as he slides past the tight ring of your entrance, a loud squelch greeting him when he bottoms out.

You’re the epitome of enticing, a pretty bitch with a perfect pussy, and honestly he feels undeserving. He feels his infatuation for you growing deeper, except this is something he wants, no, needs forever.

He’s so gentle, stroking slow and stretching you out just right cus it’s a tight fit.

Despite the wetness dripping down your thighs, you feel every single inch of him. The burn of the stretch, the slight ache as he kisses your cervix with every clumsy thrust. Your pussy feels so good around him, like it was made for him. Made to take his dick.

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be so b-big.”

Snaking his hands around your neck, he’s pulling you up so your back meets his chest, rolling his hips so the thick head of his dick mushes against the gummy walls of your g-spot. Your legs are trembling but he holds you up. Heavy breaths against your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah? You don’t think much of me at all, do you? Think you’re too good for me?”

“Noooo! I don’t think that.” He’s not letting up, stroke after stroke, until you’re creaming all over him, and even then, he still doesn’t stop. “W-would never… think that.”

The thick white fluids settling at the base of his cock, the slick gush of your pussy every time he fucked into you. It was driving you mad.

“I don’t exist in your world,” Thrust after thrust. “But you consume mine, I want you so bad.”

Your brain is fuzzy, just barely able to make out what he’s saying. “I-ah want you tooo…y’know just h-how to handle me baby.”

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Of course I do.”

You’re not sure if it’s the sureness in his voice or the sweet kiss he presses against the bare skin behind your ear that sends you over the edge but your climax hits you like a train carrying the sweetest bliss. You don’t utter a word, just deep breaths and pants, a quiet belt of his name towards the end as you melt into him with every buck of his hips. He feels it—the spasms, the trembling, the cozy warmth you coat him in, an impromptu reminder that he’s unprotected inside of you. Still, he fucks you through it, just until he’s close enough-

“F-f-fuuuck.” The groan rips through his throat as he reaches his end, the grip on your neck loosens as he pushes you down and spills his seed all over the cheeks of your ass.

He’s so unprepared it’s a shame, forced to use the inside of his turtleneck to clean the mess he made, even going as far as to place you up on the table and wipe between your thighs.

“Oh you didn’t have to- I have wipes..”

“No big deal, didn’t wanna dirty your skirt. You made this, right?” He rubs the hem of the frayed pink denim, recall’s seeing a square of this same fabric on the ring you gave Mitsuya.

“I-I did. How did you know?”

“I remember seeing you sketching it out. Glad it turned out nice enough for you to wear. It’s cute..” He trails off when you avert your gaze.

“Thank you. I’m glad too…” You trail off and you avert your gaze.

“Don’t go acting shy on me, y/n.” It’s the first time you’ve seen it, something akin to a smile on his cute little face, his eyes are as bright as stars as he stares down at you. It’s odd, almost as if the roles had changed.

“I’m not!” You whine. “It’s just strange, you’re strange Chifuyu.”

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year

Text

lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

#timothee x reader #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée fanfic #timothee x you #timotheé chalamet #timothée x you

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seungmoonandstars · 2 months

Note

first kiss with minnie? how he would approach it, and react

Let's do this again...

Kim Seungmin/female reader

wc: 1k

rating: fluff -`♡´-

·˖✶

He fidgets carelessly with the wrapper from his straw, ripping little pieces off of it, rolling it. Eventually, he knots it up like a pretzel. Seungmin pulls softly until the paper rips in half.

“Someone is thinking about you.”

“Hm?” He sits up and sets the wrapper on the table. “I’m sorry, I spaced out.” The drink by his hand is nearly finished, but he seems to have lost interest in his last few sips.

“Your straw paper,” you point to it, “the knot is still on the end. That means someone is thinking about you.”

He picks it up and examines it, “I’ve never heard that one,” now he finishes the last of his iced coffee, slurping hard and getting every last bit out. “Is it you?” Seungmin leans closer across the table and smirks.

“Yeah, I usually am thinking about you.”

A very obvious blush rises to Seungmin’s ears. His smirk turns into a full smile as he looks around, but there is nobody else to pry in on your date. It’s just the two of you here—Seungmin made sure of it.

It’s only your second real date, but it feels like you’ve known each other much longer. The two of you have danced around each other for months—avoiding eye contact, making excuses to not be in the same room.

Well, not you…that was all him.

When you finally figured him out a little, he eased up, gave you a shot…and now you’re here, alone together for the second time. He seems nervous. You’re not as nervous, you think, but him looking at you the way that he is—eyes soft and sweet—you’re getting butterflies.

Seungmin clears his throat and looks away, spins his cup in his hands, looks down at his hands. Altogether avoids eye contact. He likes looking at you, though, because he thinks your eyes are pretty and kind, and even though you sometimes have a pushy personality, you’ve never been like that alone with him.

You’ve only ever been sweet and patient with his stubbornness.

“Why?” He smiles and finds an interesting spot on the table to stare at, but you watch as they move to your hands. “What did I do to deserve that?” His eyes flutter at you, very briefly, when he asks. “To be on your mind so much?”

There is no answer for that, because Seungmin didn’t do anything. You just happen to catch him on stage—practicing, laughing, goofing off, and you fell hard. You were lucky to be there.

His eyes drop to your lips as you struggle to find the words.

“You don’t have to answer that…” he laughs softly and rubs at his cheeks, “but if it’s true—“

“It is true.”

“Oh,” he says it under his breath. Blushes. Tries to hide his smirk. He does a bad job of it, though.

“Sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. You’re very sweet.”

“Am I? I don’t get that much.”

“When it’s just us…yes, you are.” He’s still blushing, and stuttering a little as he speaks. “And when I’m around.” Seungmin slides his hand across the table and reaches for yours. “But I don’t get that much, either. Being sweet, I mean.”

“No, you don’t usually come off as sweet. You’re a little bit mysterious.”

“Me? Mysterious?”

You nod, “to me you are.”

“How do you plan on figuring me out?”

You pull him a little closer, “I haven’t decided yet,” and watch as his tongue pokes out between his lips. He smiles and it slowly disappears behind his teeth.

He lifts his free hand to cover his mouth.

“Don’t do that.” You grab his hand and pull a little. “No hiding your smile.”

“Only if you don’t hide your attitude.”

“Deal.”

It feels like your mind goes blank…all fuzzy and static, when he leans in again. You feel the tip of his nose first—it pushes gently into yours before his lips reach you. They graze lightly, like he’s not sure if you’ll kiss back, and he’s afraid of pulling back with nothing in return.

He knows better than that, though, because you both go for it at the same time, and you think you almost hit your teeth against his. He corrects quickly though; pulls back a little, softens his touch. You meet right where you need to.

It feels like he wants more, so you open up a bit. His tongue runs across your bottom lip as it slides in, and he’s not shy about it anymore. He leans across the small table and kisses hard. You wish it wasn’t there, and you feel like he’s thinking the same thing. It’s all that’s keeping your bodies from touching, so…maybe it’s a good thing that it is there.

When he finally releases you, he stays there, eyes closed, like he’s not sure if he’s satisfied yet. It isn’t what you expected from him. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, really…you’re just relieved that he did it.

He’s not done. He kisses again. Just a simple little kiss. But still, he stays there. You open your eyes, and now his are open, too. A smile spreads across his face. There’s a feeling of warm hands moving over your forearm—sliding up, fingers spreading, gripping you gently. His gaze is impossible to break away from.

He kisses again, longer and deeper. You need to get closer, but that might be too much. This is a lot already. You weren’t prepared for him to kiss you like this, so you shut your brain up and enjoy it.

And then he pulls back to take in a deep breath. The bitter taste of his black coffee is all over your lips.

It seems like the perfect time to move away from the table and get closer, but you wait for him to make his next move. He watches you, too, probably waiting for your next move.

But neither of you move. Seungmin bites his lip in a failed attempt to hold back his smile.

You lean forward and rest your elbows on the table. “…well.

“Well…” he repeats, and he leans in too, until his nose is just against yours. “Until next time?” He sits back and stands.

If he’s a tease like this often, you’re looking forward to more. “Yeah…next time. When is next time?”

He squints his eyes and pretends to think, “I’m not sure. I will text you."

“Don’t leave me waiting.”

Seungmin smiles and walks out the door.

#skz seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #kim seungmin x y/n #seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin fanfic #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz x you #kim seungmin #stray kids seungmin #stray kids fluff #seungmin oneshot

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ofsappho · 1 year

Text

Heartless

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, smut in the next chapter (and the chapters after).

Reader is disabled/chronically ill (and so is the author)

You need health insurance. Ghost is sick of sharing living quarters with the rest of the 141. Soap, your childhood friend, thinks the two of you can fix each other’s problems.

Or, Ghost and you have to convince his command that you didn’t just meet each other and your marriage is totally, completely, 100% legit. Not for any, more practical reasons. And, of course, your married-couple accommodations only have one bed.

Chapter 1:

This will either be the stupidest decision you’ve ever made or the greatest stroke of brilliance you’ve ever had. And there is no in-between.

When Soap ducks his head into the coffee shop, you’re more than a little relieved to see him in one piece, plus or minus a few silvery scars scattered across his face and peeking out of his sleeves, the collar of his jacket.

And the dumbass aviators you bought him as a high school graduation present hang from the dip of his shirt. You know Soap thinks he looks badass, but the placement reminds you more of ‘Patagonia dad who likes hiking’ than it does ‘mysterious hardened special forces dude.’

He’s so built that he has to carefully pick his way between crowded tables, just so he doesn’t knock over someone’s drink or trip into a random stranger’s elbow.

You more or less tackle him into the biggest hug you can. “Soap! You’re not dead!” Ever since he joined his super-duper-top-secret whatever the fuck, you’ve gotten used to the communication dead zones in your years-long friendship. The silence never stops worrying you, though.

Johnny chuckles and practically lifts you off your feet. “Neither are you! Congratulations!” You know he’s relieved to see you as well by the way he ruffles your hair.

You fucking hate it when he does that, which is, of course, why it’s become a tradition every time you see him.

He pisses you off, you piss him off. “Twinning!”

The glare he tosses your way has all the menace of a kitten attacking a curtain. “Fuck does that mean? You know I can’t keep up with your American slang.” You’re a good friend who pre-ordered his ridiculous caramel latte with extra caramel, and Soap sits happily in front of it.

He learned that he enjoyed heart-stoppingly sweet drinks on accident - a case of mistaken identity where you unintentionally grabbed Soap’s macho Americano, and he drank half of your caramel latte in revenge. And here you are, years later, watching him slurp down a milk foam heart.

“Awww, too much for the brain cells you have left?” Teasing him as easy as breathing and a welcome distraction for the anxiety attack-inducing question you must ask.

The general coffee shop ambient noise swells in your ears. An espresso machine malfunctions, almost loud enough to make you jump, and you try to disguise it by sipping your iced tea. No caffeine; you’re nervous enough without it.

“I could have you arrested for that,” Soap quips. Please. As if you’d let him try. One call to his commanding officer about his pre-service shenanigans, and you’d have his ass court-martialed.

“Abuse of the power of the Armed Forces? Very ethical.” You raise an eyebrow and lace your voice with haughtiness, even flicking some hair over your shoulder.

Then you need to pass Johnny a few napkins to mop up the latte dripping from his nose out of laughter. “I’m glad to see you,” He tells you, and the sober, knowing look in his eyes makes your stomach drop out. He doesn’t miss a thing. He’d probably be dead or fired from his job if he did. “Though I know this isn’t a social call.”

Well. You’re in for it now. “Yeah, unfortunately, it isn’t.” The words taste like dust in your mouth, and the lemony-black tea barely washes it out. Just to give yourself something to do, you pop the plastic lid off and tip a couple of ice cubes into your mouth before chomping down.

“What’s going on?”

How do you summarize the horrifically, brutally stressful whirlwind of the last few weeks without inspiring the annoying, patronizing pity you’ve gotten from literally everyone else you’ve vented to? You’re not a victim to be coddled or a child to be given advice you’ve already thought of, tried, and failed at.

“I’m losing my health insurance at the end of the month” is what you decide on in the end.

He knows exactly what that means for you. For your future. Soap shakes his head ruefully. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve been sick for a while, diagnosed the year after the two of you graduated high school. The kind of sick that is simply a freak accident of nature, causing your body to attack itself over and over until the day you’ll drop dead from complications. It wouldn’t take much; maybe a regular infection burning you alive with a fever your crippled immune system can’t stop, or a benign cut from a kitchen knife that will bleed and bleed until you’re halfway to the coroner’s office.

And then there’s your shitty, damaged, degenerated spine that keeps you in bed for weeks at a time with crippling, numbing pain.

Without health insurance, things won’t look good for your quality of life. And you like your quality of life to be decent. You’d settle for passable.

Really, it sounds worse than it is, and you try to console him. “It’s okay. It was eventually going to happen. I had hoped to have a little more time, though.” You remember the call from the insurance company like it just happened yesterday. You were loading dishes into the dishwasher and listening to Fleetwood Mac on the radio. And some poor customer service representative told you they were increasing your monthly payments beyond what they knew you could afford, so they’d have to drop you.

You watch him open his mouth as if to tell you that you should’ve said something sooner. But he’s been deployed for the past four months. He pauses and resets to something a little more helpful. “How can I help?” That’s something you have liked about Johnny a lot since you were kids. He cares more about what he can do.

Your anxiety permits your lungs to take one big, fortifying inhale. “Well…” Dragging it out will only make this worse, you know, but you really, really, really hate that it’s come to this. “This is fucking embarrassing.” You tried to find a way to pay the premiums; you really did. But you work forty hours a week already and trying to get more shifts, maybe find a new job, do this, do that, appeal, all of that has been futile and draining. “Will you marry me?”

He drops his half-empty cup on the table, forceful enough that some of the coffee spills out. “What?”

Soap’s partially-scandalized shock is not what you hoped for as a reaction. But you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything better.

The worst part of this conversation is over. It can’t get more nerve-wracking. “Marry me. Like. Get legally married. I could get on military benefits, and my meds would be covered.” He doesn’t swing your way, but surely signing some paper and standing before a judge is, like, not the most terrifying thing Soap has ever done. “And- and I know there’s stuff in it for you, too, like a better apartment or whatever. I can cook. Better than you, that’s for sure.” One of your friends had to teach him how not to burn water.

He just sits there in silence. “Please,” You add on softly. Desperately. This is your last-ditch attempt, your Hail Mary.

At last, Soap’s shoulders slump, and you know, from that alone, that he’s gonna say no. Miracles are rarely performed for ordinary people. “I would if I could, but… I’m sort of already married,” He sighs, then winces, waiting for your inevitable unhappy outburst.

…

You blink a few times, brain furiously recalibrating everything you know. John got married, and he didn’t even invite you? Or tell you? You’re supposed to be his friend. That’s so rude, ouch. You would have even gotten him some expensive shit off his gift registry.

A fucking Keurig, for God’s sake. “What? Who?” You demand, more outraged that he would leave you out of his life than you are over him declining your proposal

Underneath that deep, sunburnt tan, you see Soap blush. “Jeremy from final year.”

You’d throw your empty cup at him, but he’d just duck. “I knew you were fucking him! I knew it! You tried to gaslight me and say you weren’t, but I saw the hickies on his neck!” There were only so many times Johnny ducked out of a math classroom covered in sweat, followed shortly by your classmate, before you put the pieces together.

Oh, but the rest of your friends called you a conspiracy theorist and told you to mind your business. Now, who’s laughing?

Soap holds his hands up in the universal ‘don’t shoot’ sign. “He needed health insurance. We’re married on paper. Haven’t seen him in a few years, but I know he’s doing alright.” Naturally, he’s already selflessly committed marriage fraud. You honestly should’ve seen that coming; that’s why you wanted to propose in the first place and figured you’d have a slim chance of success.

“Shit.” Now you’re back to square one. And it’s a shitty square, with walls that close in around you with every passing second.

The regret in his eyes overflows when he sees your slumped shoulders, how you’re picking at your cuticles hard enough to bleed. “‘M sorry. If I wasn’t locked down, you know that I’d do it for you in a heartbeat.” The worst part is that you know he’s being sincere, not just parroting empty platitudes.

Right. Well. That’s it, then.

You rub at your closed eyes, then at the stress wrinkle between your eyebrows. “Fuck. It’s fine, I know. I will… I’ll figure it out,” You sigh. Less than convincing, but it doesn’t need to be.

There are probably options you just haven’t thought of yet. Or maybe you can work something out with your doctor, where you only get your meds every other month. “I got it covered. Don’t worry about me.” You instantly see Soap rush to shake his head, to tell you that he’s always worried about you. You want to chastise him, tell him that he has plenty of things to be worried about in his own life. “Shush. It’s fine.” But you don’t have the heart to rake him over the coals for it now, so you settle for that.

You should go. You have things to do, things that include crying in your bed with the curtains drawn and urgently refreshing your email to see if anyone's gotten back to you. New jobs, aid organizations for low-income people, any further bad news.

Soap catches your wrist before you can say the appropriate goodbyes and rush out of the cafe. “Look- hold on- let me… let me ask my… friends.” He wrinkles his nose as he says it with an odd, stilted tone. Like ‘friends’ is a replacement for something he can’t say out loud in a civilian setting.

You can put the pieces together. “Is that what you’re calling your coworkers?”

“That’s classified, shut up.” His Scottish accent pops out there stronger than good malt whiskey. Hope is an easily-caught flame and far more difficult to extinguish. When you smile at him, you find it’s not entirely false. “Let me ask around, okay? They’re good guys. You might need to do the heavy lifting with your sparkling personality, but I can try.”

‘Sparkling personality’ is sort of ominous. ‘Don’t give them shit,’ is what he means to say. That’s fine, you’ve worked in customer service before. You can be on your best behavior.

You’re not exactly sure what kind of dude would be willing to marry a stranger, even if that is the kind of dude you want to marry.

But desperate times, desperate measures. “Thank you. Really. It would mean the world and… would probably save my life.” You didn’t mean to get as choked up at the end as you do. No one else has been willing to help you, though, and Soap’s answering hug feels like desperately needed hope reviving itself in your chest.

“I’ve got you. And I hope I can help in the end, even if it’s not what you originally had in mind.”

Soap runs through his team members in his mind as he waits for the gate guard to scan his ID, trying to recall who’s tied down and who isn’t.

Captain’s got a wife, he thinks, and he’s a wee bit too old for you anyway.

It takes a second for the starry-eyed guard to hand him back the card and lift the gate.

You picked a good time to call him up; not only is he in town, menacing the local army base, but so is the rest of the 141—a rarity.

Vargas would certainly charm you, but Soap trusts Alejandro with you about as far as he could throw him.

Out of all the idiots he went to school with, you’re the only idiot who stuck around through the early years of his service, and you pursued your friendship like a hound after a fox even when he couldn’t properly reciprocate.

So John feels some responsibility for looking out for you, as you’ve always looked out for him.

Garrick wouldn’t be a half-bad choice. Dependable, responsible. Friendly, so your sham marriage would at least be enjoyable.

His mind drifts to his own errant mostly-platonic husband as he parks the borrowed car in his numbered space. Jeremy. The last time they spoke was over three years ago? Maybe four. Jeremy had found himself a new boyfriend and called to let him know, asking if Soap wanted a legal divorce. He was moving to some godforsaken corner of America. Florida? Maybe. That place has got too many fuckin’ states for him to remember them all.

They worked it out - they’d stay married, and Jeremy would keep out of his way. No love lost.

Roach could do it for you in a pinch as well. A little quiet, but maybe you’d work out something like him and Jeremy. Staying out of each other’s way.

Soap dismisses Lieutenant Riley without a second thought. On his best day, Ghost is about as inviting and amenable as a particularly hungry great white shark. And even if God himself came down from Heaven and changed Ghost’s heart to be interested, Soap would worry about you.

A lot. Even more than he already does, since the day you sobbed in his arms after school when you were first diagnosed. Since that day he had to help you out of bed because you could neither walk nor miss any more class.

Does he trust Ghost enough to fight alongside him? To have his back when there’s a gun against his head? Absolutely. Does he think Ghost would treat one of his oldest friends properly, befitting of the funny, kind, vibrant person you are? Abso-fuckin’-lutely not.

So that puts Gaz and Roach in his top choices for you and Vargas as a last-tier resort.

Armed forces worldwide, in Scotland and America, are all about efficiency. Eliminating redundancy.

And if that’s the excuse Johnny uses to justify blindsiding his whole team at once, so he doesn’t need to have this conversation three damn times and hear three separate rejections? That’s between him and God.

He herds them like sheep, plucking the Captain from his office, Garrick and Alejandro from conditioning in the gym, disturbing Roach’s book. Ghost appears out of nowhere as if summoned by the disturbance and falls in behind Soap. Not a single damn sound, of course. While that’s useful on deployment, he still has to tamp down on the instinct to jump every time he sees a skull mask hovering out of the corner of his eye in everyday life.

No matter. The lieutenant will likely wander out when the subject matter is revealed. It would raise more red flags if he told Ghost off.

He barely gets Lt. Riley through the pool room door before Captain jumps him. “Sergeant. What’s the trouble?”

That’s fuckin’ rude. “Why’d you assume I’m in trouble?” He indignantly replies. Except… yeah, there was that time he borrowed a humvee he had no permission to touch, and Captain covered for him to Laswell. Shit. “Well, I’m not.” At least, not this time.

Soap opens his mouth to argue this because it’s hardly fair for Cpt. Price to point fingers only to be cut off. “What is it?” At least Price has the decency to file the sharp edges off of his voice this time.

Right. He almost feels guilty getting sidetracked over something so stupid when he’s gathered everyone here for an infinitely more important reason.

Where does he start? How the fuck does he proposition them without sounding absolutely mental? “I… Hear me out.” Instantly, Garrick shakes his head ‘no,’ and Cpt.’s face remains as unmoved as a brick wall. Definitely not how he should have opened. “Wouldn’t be asking if the situation wasn’t desperate.” Soap opens his hands in the vain hope that the gesture will make them listen, at minimum.

You loathed hospitals and doctor’s offices when you first got sick. Now, you see the inside of them so often that it hardly fazes you. Still, Johnny always went along when you asked. So you wouldn’t have to be alone.

The countless memories of holding your hand as some faceless nurse sticks an IV in your elbow is the motivation that steps on the gas. “I have this friend,’ He tells them.

“You have friends?” If Vargas weren’t separated from him by the pool table, he’d reach over and stick an elbow in his side. What is it, official ‘piss off Sgt. MacTavish’ day?

They get in a laugh at his expense. “Shut up, you reprobate.” He puts enough bite in his tone to cut through the ruckus with the keenness of a knife. “I have this friend. Since I was a lad. She’s a good girl, good person. She needs our help.”

Everyone knows what he means by ‘good person,’ and the mere mention of a civilian girl in distress softens Gaz’s scowl and Alejandro’s scorn.

Their Captain nods, now significantly more amenable to this conversation than he was at the beginning. “Help?” Progress is progress, and for the first time, Soap allows himself to think he might be able to persuade someone.

“Yeah, well… you know these fuckin’ Americans. They don’t give a damn if people die like dogs in the streets. She lost her health insurance, and she’s… She’s ill. She’ll be ill for the rest of her life.” That’s something Johnny will never understand about this side of the pond. The NHS was never good, but at least it exists. All that freedom and shit, for what?

“Sorry to hear that. Fucking shame,” Price murmurs.

“I was wondering if any of you might be interested in marrying her. For the fuckin’... benefits. I dunno know what exactly they are, but she mentioned new living quarters for her soldier.” He really ought to have looked this up beforehand and found some other things to sweeten the pot. “I’m already married. Had to turn the poor lass down, and I told her I’d at least ask you lot.”

Their captain gets up and off his ass like the stool’s on fire. “Alright. MacTavish, I’m leaving the room now. I’m going back to my office, and do not disturb me until you’re done,” He orders, mustache practically fuckin’ bristling with urgency. “I didn’t hear or see a thing.” With his parting words finished, Johnny watches the man book it out of the pool room in double time.

While he understands and appreciates the discretion, was that truly necessary? They’ve all done exponentially worse things than this.

His first choice makes a break for it, too. “Sorry, Soap,” Garrick declines. “I’m out. I’m sure she’s a delightful person, though being friends with you doesn’t speak highly of her life choices. But that’s a big ask, and I just don’t know her.” The sergeant taps him on the shoulder as he walks out in a silent show of support.

“‘Course.” With each man who leaves, his worry increases.

What voicemails will await him after he returns from the next mission? That things went horribly wrong, and you’ll be hospitalized for the rest of your life, or maybe even dead?

Whatever it is, there won’t be anything he can do by then. That’s the worst part.

“Yeah, can’t do it either, Sarge. I got a girl already.” Right. There goes Sanderson.

At least Alejandro has the decency to look genuinely sympathetic. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

Soap watches him leave and wonders if you’re still awake. It’s not late for him, but who knows? Maybe you keep normal hours now. “Yeah, I will.” You’d prefer to hear the bad news as soon as possible, but he would hate to wake you for it.

But he can’t ignore the ghoul haunting the corner any longer. “What are you still doing here, Lt.? I’ve gotta tell her I can’t help, and I don’t think you’d care to overhear that conversation.” His voice is a little sharper than is nice and proper, overflowing with prickly irritation like too much tea in a cracked cup. Of all the times for Ghost to not mind his fucking business…

“…what she look like?”

“What?”

And Riley’s got the audacity to repeat himself, slower, as if he’s stupid. “What does she look like? Got a picture?”

“Is this a joke?” Simon should stick to shitty quips about goldfish. At least those are tasteful.

The man doesn’t laugh, shake his head, or leave now that he’s successfully rattled Soap. He just stands there, as grave as always. Motherfucker. He means it. “Fuckin’… yeah, hold on,” Soap sighs as he fumbles for his phone.

He’s desperate because you’re desperate. He tells himself that, over and over, as he looks for a half-decent selfie. You’re a big girl, you knew what you were risking when you asked him for help.

Ghost takes his phone in his gloved hand. “Not bad,” He murmurs after a while. “I’ll do it. Marry her.”

A beat passes. Soap lets another one go.

Alright. The grace period is over and done with. “This is a really shitty, serious thing to mess around about. Genuinely. Don’t do that to her or me. This is about her health. Her life.” Johnny likes Lt. Riley. Really, he does. Even under all the freaky mask shit.

But this is mean-spirited. It would almost be out of character. It’s one thing to be careless if his sparring partner walks away with permanent nerve damage. This is fucking cruel if he doesn’t mean it.

Ghost can read minds now. “I mean it.” His chuckle makes Johnny fix his surprised expression into something more stern and imperceptible. “She’s desperate, isn’t she? I’ll do it.” When he walks closer, the changing light makes that skull on his face flash in and out of existence.

“Why?” If he can’t come up with a somewhat satisfactory answer… Soap’s fist can probably reach him fine from here.

And in a rather remarkable show of humanity, he watches Ghost pinch the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Think I like listening to you snore? Or fuckin’ Roach chattering on Discord at four in the morning?” Johnny never knew Ghost was such a little princess about that. Who would’ve thought?

The other man huffs a laugh. “Need my beauty sleep.”

“Yeah, you do, the mask’s not doin’ you any favors,” Soap retorts as if on autopilot. That’s only their longest-running tiff. You’ve got your work cut out for you to deal with that ugly mug, he thinks.

“You want me to help her or what?”

Right. Right. “Sorry.” He examines Ghost’s body language, searching for any hint of dishonesty. “If you so badly want out of the shared bunks, how come you haven’t found someone else yet? Or some other way?”

“You think girls are lining up outside my door proposing marriage? You can’t even find me off duty. Now I ain’t gotta find… some other way,” He says before leaning back against the wall, at ease now that his argument’s been made.

“Fair point.” Fair, but fucking dumb. “I’ll tell her. She’ll say yes, I know she will.” Jesus, does he wish he’d been able to persuade Garrick.

Soap considers exactly how much you should know about your intended before this shit goes down. On the one hand, it might be better for you not to know much, other than that he’s found someone relatively trustworthy and willing. On the other hand… interacting with Lt. Riley is something that should only be done after signing a covenant not to sue.

“Whatever you do, don’t hurt her. She’s been through enough already. And I meant it when I said she’s a good person. Too good for either of us.”

Nobody gets through secondary school untouched. Especially not at that prissy international school you met him at, filled with over-privileged rich kids and army brats scraping the bottom of the barrel. Like the two of you.

When you were fourteen, you picked him up by the scruff of his Scottish neck with a smile on your face, then hit the bastard who hit him first. Thick as thieves ever since.

“And if you can’t find it in you to be nice, just… promise you’ll leave her alone.” At least you’re more than capable of making Ghost’s life a living Hell if he fucks with you. He takes comfort in that and a healthy amount of glee at the possibility of watching that play out. He’s got a front-row seat, after all.

Riley shakes his head. “As long as she ain’t a burden, MacTavish, no need to fuss and cluck.”

For a moment, Soap almost pities him.

“Don’t hurt her. Promise me that, right now,” He stresses. Just in case. At least eliciting this agreement might remind Ghost in the future to stay his hand.

The other man sighs. “I won’t,” He says at last. And Soap can tell he means it.

“Get out. I’ll let her know.”

1K notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 2 years

Text

Touch your Wings - Obey Me

Lucifer

“Can I touch your wings?”

“I beg your pardon?” Lucifer asked back, gob smacked, in response to your question.

“Your wings. Can I touch them?” You repeat. Hoping for a little more clarity.

“No.” He replied emphatically. “Why would you want to touch my wings [Y/N]?”

You shrug; a little crestfallen now. “I don’t know. They just seemed so fluffy and soft.” Lucifer did not seem swayed. “I just wanted to touch them once. Sorry if that was weird, or too personal.”

You didn’t have wings, but maybe it was like touching someone’s intimate spots. Not something you should just ask off hand. Maybe you had crossed the line with Lucifer this time.

There was a sigh. Then a shift in the air. When you looked up Lucifer had his wings out and presented, not pulled to the side like he normally did when he was sitting. “Do so if you must. I don’t see the appeal.” You smile at getting your wish, and hesitantly reach out to touch his wings.

They’re not ‘fluffy’ as you suspected. The feathers were more sleek, and silk like. They were certainly soft. You run your wings over the row of feathers like gently cascading over the strings of a harp. You feel them shake against your finger tips and realize it wasn’t the feathers that were shaking, but Lucifer’s whole body with a shiver.

“That’s enough.” He said. Pulling his wings back in and concealing them. Unable to conceal the tint on his cheeks though.

Your own cheeks flush as realize that this may have been very…intimate. But Lucifer let you do it still.

“Was it all you had hoped for?” He asked. To which you smile softly before your reply.

“Oh yes. It certainly was.”

Mammon

“Can I touch your wings?”

The sound of Mammon slurping his iced coffee suddenly stopped and he turned to you. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just realized I never touched them before.” You tell him with a shrug. “I though it would be cool.”

“Y-Yes, my wings are very cool.” Mammon replied. Choosing to hear what he wanted out of your reasoning. “But they’re only for admiring. Like the rest of me. I’m a work of art [Y/N]. So look don’t touch.”

You frown at Mammon’s bravado and sip your own coffee. “What? Is it gonna hurt or something?”

The demon balked. “N-No…!” He insisted. “It wouldn’t hurt…..” His cheeks suddenly turned rather red. Before you had time to asking what that was about, Mammon suddenly changed into his demon form in the blink of an eye and shouted, “just get it over with!”

You almost don’t want to do it now. But, he had gone through the trouble of transforming for you. So you figured you might as well touch them since this seemed the only chance you’ll ever get it done.

Mammon seemed ridged as a board as you reached towards him. You’d never seen him so nervous. Your finger tips brush against the waxy material of his bat like wings. Almost skin like. You realize now, looking very closely at them, that they also changed color. Flecks of gold flicker up under your finger tips as they caress up to the wide spines at the top. It disappeared quickly, but you were fascinated by the shaped and patterns you could draw out.

“Ok! That’s enough!” Mammon snapped, along with snapping his fingers closed, and quickly shifted back. His face bright red now, and seeming to be breathing kind of heavy for someone who had just been standing there. “S-Satisfied??”

You blink once, then smirk at the other, as you realize what was going on. “Yeah. I’m satisfied.” You reply, before taking a step closer to whisper quietly to him, “do you want to head up to your room so you can be too?”

Asmo

“Can I touch your wings?”

“Awwww….[Y/N]~! So kinky!”

Your face goes beet red at his response. Yes, it was Asmo, and he was always saying scandalous things to get a rise out of you. But you also feel like you had crossed some sort of demon privacy line. “F-Forget it!”

“What?! Wait [Y/N]! I was only kidding. You can touch them if you want.”

You feel like you’re being tricked into something (even though you asked for this). Asmo quickly shifted into his demon form. His wings almost curling into a heart behind his back before they fluttered out. “Don’t be shy!”

You suppose you had asked for this. So you might as well follow through.

The demon waited patiently with a smile as you reached out to touch his wings. You were surprised at the feel of them. Despite looking bat like from a distance they felt sort of like….velvet under your fingertips. Surprisingly soft and luxurious, although you shouldn’t be so surprised with it being Asmo.

“Mmmmm….[Y/N]….”

Your hand snapped back when you heard Asmo moan. His eyes closed. Seeming to lean in a little too much to your touch. “That’s it I’m done.”

“Wait? What!” Asmo replied in alarm. Realizing you had not only stopped but were calling it quits. “Wait [Y/N]! Just a little longer. Having you touch my wings is an ecstasy I never thought possible. Come back [Y/N]!”

Beel

“Can I touch your wings?”

The question was so left field, that it even stopped Beel mid-chew. “Why would you want to touch them?” He asked after swallowing.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly. “I just realized I never had before, and just wanted to.”

Beel seemed uncomfortable for a moment, and even sat his sandwich down. “I don’t….like my wings.”

It was your turn to be surprised. You’d never known that about Beel, and no one had ever mentioned it to you before. He was usually so confident about his body. It never occurred to you that he might not like something about it. “Why don’t you like them?”

“They’re ugly.” He responded immediately. “Lucifer and everyone have nice wings. They look cool. Or cute. Or strong. Mine look like an ugly bug. An ugly, disgusting bug.” He picked up his sandwich again and took another bite out of it, but didn’t seem to enjoy it at all.

You reached out and touched his shoulder. “I don’t think your wings are ugly.” You told him. “I think they’re unique. I only wanted to touch them because they’re apart of you. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t know you felt that way about them. I’m sorry.”

Beel turned away from you again towards his food. Only this time to pick at it. “You…think they’re unique?” His voice sounded hopeful.

The demon rolled his shoulders back as he shifted into his demon form. Taking the weight of his wings on his back. “If you want, you can touch ‘em.”

You almost don’t want to. Feeling like you had pressured Beel into this. But you were also afraid that if you didn’t touch them, that would just confirm his fears. Which were completely false.

Sure, they weren’t as traditionally beautiful as Lucifer’s or the others, but they were still beautiful. Being more insect like, they had a clear appearance through the dark veins of the wings. And when the light hit them, they looked like stained glass through a window. “I think your wings are very cool and beautiful Beel. Just like you.”

The red head turned back to you. His cheeks red, and his eyes looking uncharacteristically bright in the lighting.

Suddenly his arms were around you. Knocking you down off your seat on to the floor as he held you close. “B-B-Beel!”

“Thank you [Y/N].” He said against your ear. His wings flittering happily behind him for what you can only assume was the first time in a long time.

Diavolo

“Can I touch your wings?”

Diavolo looked at you for a moment, and you realize that maybe that was an inappropriate thing to ask. “Yeah sure.”

“R-Really?” You ask back. Not expecting such a quick response. “Are you ok with people touching your wings?

“I don’t know. No one has ever tried before.” Diavolo answered.

You suddenly realize that no one had probably tried before because he was the defacto Demon King. No one would dare ask to touch him in such a candid, casual way. Suddenly you feel very silly, and a little terrified, for making such a request.

Diavolo, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“Here you go!” He announced cheerfully. Having shifted into his demon form while you were fretting. His hands on his hips, with his wings spread wide.

You took a step closer and carefully touch the garnet color on the interior of his wings. It felt mesh like. Like the skin of a string ray you’d touched once at the aquarium as a child. Except instead of being cold and smooth, this felt warm and tactical. “I never realized how big your wings were.” You remark, taking them in at full expanse for the first time.

“Yeah. I suppose they do have a wide berth for some people. But they get a lot of distance in flight. And they’re good for one other thing.” You squeal very loudly as Diavolo’s wings suddenly clamp around you. Incasing you in a personal cocoon, while his arms wrapped around you and the prince chuckled in amusement at your alarm. “They’re great for catching prey.”

You pout up at him. Not really angry, but annoyed at his trick. “So I’m your prey now?”

“I genuinely think it’s the other way around.” He replied. Using the privacy of his wings to full advantage while he had you.

4K notes · View notes

melancholymetropolis · 1 year

Text

PillowTalk

plot: A normal breakfast takes a steamy turn.

pairings: Aizawa Shota x Pregnant!Reader

genre(s): Marriage of Convenience AU; Shameless Smut

warnings: MUTUAL PINING. former boss/assistant. mansion in the middle of the woods. stay-at-home wife (kinda). CEO husband. ROLEPLAY. reader is a book nerd. chasing. lowkey beauty & the beast au. toxic ex. library sex. PIV SEX. rough. table top. mentions of voyeurism + masturbation. pet names (princess, little wife, beast, prince charming etc) light breeding. teasing. Aizawa is a simp for his wife. y/n is a dirty -talker. BOTH OF THEM ARE REALLY HORNY FOR EACH OTHER

w.c: 4.4k

Aizawa Shota lowered the newspaper from his view and lifted the coffee cup to his lips. He took a hefty gulp of the cool drink and I felt myself squirm in my seat.

My kinda-husband was simply too hot for words and I was beginning to lose my mind. His dark hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head, but a few (selective) strands framed his face. He decided to grow out his facial hair a bit, sporting a deviously dark five o’clock shadow. The white dress shirt framing his chest was seconds away from breaking at any sudden movements. The black suit he wore was tailored to his body perfectly— framing his butt and thighs gorgeously. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones or the lack of pleasure I had acquired in recent months— I wanted him. I wanted him badly.

I wanted my fake husband to toss me to the table and devour me, just like how he did our breakfast.

I wanted him to mount me like the sexual beast I knew he was and pound me into the table.

I wanted him to ruin other—

“How are things?” He asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Uh. . . what things?” I asked absentmindedly.

His black eyes flicked onto my face, taking in my flushed expression. “Are you hot? Do you want me to turn down the thermostat?”

Oh, I am hot. Hot and ready for you to slurp me like—

“N-No,” I stammered, bringing my iced tea to my lips. I took a slow sip before setting the glass back on the table. “And everything is fine! The doctor said my blood pressure and cortisol levels were not as high as before and were leaning toward normal. She also told me to start drinking okra water and to work on my breathing, since I reaching the end of my trimester.”

Aizawa nodded. “Seems to be all good news. I am happy to hear it.”

“Well, there is only good news because of you and your support,” I said sheepishly.

The statement was very true, if it weren’t for Aizawa I probably would’ve been dead by now. That was not an exaggeration whatsoever.

We didn't marry for love, nor was this union arranged. It was a simple matter of convenience. I was his secretary and he was the CEO of the company. I was already engaged to another man prior, but he left me mere weeks after I had fallen pregnant. My fiance cleared our joint account and fled the country. Leaving me with nothing. I was forced to consider going back to the united states and sleeping in my childhood bedroom with a newborn.

Aizawa, out of the blue, presented the possibility of a marriage between us. He would pay for everything. The medical bills, food, car payments, baby supplies— all I had to do was manage the house staff: sign off on repairs, oversee their daily tasks, and inform him of anything out of the ordinary. He was basically paying me to be a housewife, without the strenuous duties of cooking, cleaning, and tending to the kids. Plus, Aizawa suggested I get a night nanny so I could rest a little better.

The deal sounded a little too good to be true. But, given the two years we spent working together, I knew he was trustworthy. I took the leap and ended up living an absolute fairytale life for the past 5 months. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Although, deep down, I wished we explored a little past our new normal.

Maybe even find ourselves entangled in the sheets and trying out all kinds of positions.

I’m pretty sure I can still get my leg over my head if I really tried. Giving him enough room to dig deep in me and rearrange my guts.

"You don't have to thank me every chance you get," a small smile stole his face. "In fact, I should be thanking you."

"Oh really?"

The smile widened and the brunette adjusted his position in the chair. His arms crossed against his broad chest and the buttons strained from the action. The muscles in his forearms flexed underneath his rolled-up sleeves. His biceps bulged a little against the cotton fabric. The longer I looked at him the wetter I felt the seat of my panties become. If he kept being so absentmindedly attractive, I would soon find myself sprayed out on my bed, fingers probing my slick walls, wishing he were on top of me.

Damn, I have it bad.

“Y/N!” Aizawa said in a raised voice.

I blinked several times and cleared my throat. “Y-Yes?”

“Are you sure you okay?” He asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah! It’s just the. . . hormones!” I blustered. “You know, all those raging, sweaty hormones that make it hard for me to focus.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are sure it's only the hormones? And not some other factor?”

“Uh. . .” I stammered.

Aizawa, suddenly, rose from his seat and walked around the round table. His eyes never left my face and a smirk was forming on his lips. He appeared next to me in an instant. He pressed one hand on the table and another on the back of my chair. Aizawa leaned forward until our faces were mere inches apart.

“I heard you the other night,” he stated, a certain hunger in his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” I gulped.

“You cried out for me,” he said, plainly. “Begging me to. . . how did you say it? Oh! ‘Split you apart with my thick dick’.”

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. It had been the night he had come back from a run around the block. He was shirtless and the shorts were low on his hips. His sculpted v-line was on full display, along with his sensual muscles. He was breathing so heavily, panting and mewling from the strenuous exercise. He claimed to have “overdid” it this time. He ran at full speed for the last few blocks and all the way up our long driveway. His long hair was, again, pulled into a messy bun, highlighting his sharp jaw and rugged features.

He looked so hot. So fuckable. I wanted to mount him like the stallion he was and ride him into the sunset.

". . . Oh," I murmured, turning away from him.

"'Oh' is right," he chuckled. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you were so loud and luscious that I couldn't help myself." Aizawa leaned forward, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "And saw you too. Your door was cracked open just for me to see."

Shivers ran down my spine and my womanhood throbbed. His hot breath was caressing my ear, whilst his mouth did the same. His body was so close, yet he wasn't laying a finger on me. The temptation was swiftly sending me over the edge. I hated the slow, seductive game he was playing. I knew the ending would not be in my favor. He wasn't the type of man to spread me open like a Thanksgiving feast, nor was he the type to treat me like an animal. He wanted me begging, weeping for his touch. Despite the rather x-rated thoughts running through my mind at the moment, I couldn’t allow myself to succumb to his game so easily.

“Who knew you were such a little perv,” I giggled, lifting my mug to my lips. I took a small sip of the hot tea and hummed sweetly. “But, I guess, if I was holed up in my office for 40+ hours a week I’d be a little… frustrated as well.”

His fingertips brushed against my arms, tickling me the same way a feather would. “You are playing with fire, little wife.” Aizawa groaned and gripped the back of my chair. “Ever since that faithful night, I have not been able to think straight. Seeing your legs shake and your toes curl, while you work yourself with that sparkly pink toy—” He sucked in a breath and released the back of my chair. He pushed his body away from mine.

Immediately, I rise to my feet and turn to face him. The brunette placed a significant distance between the both of us. His breath was labored and his hand was balled at his side. There was an oblong shape intensely prominent near the zipper of his slacks. The member was only semi-hard and I could already tell that was quite massive. Probably bigger that the sparkly pink dildo I had in my nightstand, certainly thicker that the toy as well.

My assumption was right.

He did have a long, thick dick.

“I like to think myself a patient man,” he started. “A respectable man. I tried my best to keep my distance from you and to give you all the space you need to grow. To heal from whatever happened before our union. I never wanted to force myself or my desires onto you. I never wanted you to think you owed me anything because we were simply married and living together." Aizawa’s brown eyes bore into mine, just as the morning light gracefully captured his face. It gave him an ethereal glow. Made him look even more beautiful that he already was. “I promised myself that I would not touch you or make any advances toward you until I have obtained your explicit consent. However, being near you, feeling your luxurious presence and capturing your delicious scent, while trying not to press my mouth against that gummy pussy is pure agony. ”

Aizawa was so eloquent with how he spoke, sounding like a pure gentleman. Up until that last bit.

“So, from what you’re saying,” I said, tilting my head to the side a little bit. “The beloved prince charming I married 5 months ago is gone? And he was preplaced by a horny, insatiable beast?”

A smirk pulled at his lips. “That’s not exactly true, princess. Charming was always a beast, at least during the night. It took a very special lady to set him straight by morning.”

I hummed once more and pulled my braids into a messy bun. I hiked up my dress and gave him a smile. “Where is the closest soundproof room in the house?”

“A few doors down,” he replied. “It’s the library.”

I took off in a swift jog toward the room, turning my head back to say “You can’t catch me, you fearsome beast.”

His laughter was explosive. “Are we roleplaying, princess?” Aizawa shouted after me.

I was already halfway down the hall, the double doors of the library were swiftly approaching. “Only if you want to,” I shouted back.

“You cannot hide from me, young damsel!” He boasted, as heavily footsteps came stomping my way. “I will capture you one way or another!”

I giggled at the sound of his “beastly” voice and proceeded to quicken my pace. “Please do not harm me, furocious beast. For I am innocent in this matter.”

I have no idea what possessed me to put on this whole act. Maybe I was watching too much Bridgerton or reading entirely too much erotica, but the idea of being chased by a massive man, just to be savagely fucked in the library was exhilarating. The book nerd in me was jumping with joy.

I pushed through the library doors and sped over to the nearest flat surface. A wide table with several wooden chairs surrounding it. I shoved the chairs aside and hopped right on the table. Anticipation ran through my veins. The big, hulking man burst through the room with a loud grunt. The smile on his face was undeniable. My little charade had done its job perfectly: it had taken us out of earshot of the bustling maids in the house and eased the thick tension between us. Aizawa’s playful mood was igniting something within me. Something I didn’t recognize. It had been a while since I had seen him actually enjoy himself. His smile was so wide and genuine that I thought he was a different person.

Not the stressed-out, sleep-deprived spouse that I often avoided.

But the bubbly, fun husband that I always wanted.

His immediate acceptance and active participation in my game showed me that there was a chance. A chance for us to have a real, authentic marriage. A union where we love and cherish each other. One where I didn't have to question whether or not he felt the same way.

“Sweet, delicate princess,” Aizawa groaned, inching close to me. “Please allow me the opportunity to voice my desires without prejudice or ridicule.”

I looked away from his face for a moment and tapped my chin. “Fine, you may.”

“I want you. In every way possible,” he confessed, closing the distance between us. “I have wanted you from the sheer moment you opened your heart to me. From the moment you started staying up a little late to have dinner with me, or when you made it a point to pack me lunch on a particularly long day. When you made Sunday nights my favorite time of the week and got me addicted to Outlander.”

“Since when were you into Outlander?” I asked in disbelief,

“Since you started screaming at the TV, cursing out Sir Jack Randal,” Aizawa chuckled. “I never heard you use so many curses in a single sentence.”

“I still can’t believe he did that to Jamie,” I grimaced.

Aizawa nodded in agreement but carried on with his statement. “You have been the object of my desires and the capturer of my heart for months now. I go to sleep dreaming of your big brown eyes and beautiful smile. I hear your sweet voice in my mind all day long and wish I could spend every moment with you.”

I reached out to grab his hands, which he gladly handed to me. I brought them to my thighs and allowed them to hike up my skirt. The beige fabric lifted from its place at my ankles and exposed the bronze skin underneath. Aizawa settled at the small space between my thighs and gently placed his hands at my sides. His brown eyes bore into mine. The older man looked at me like I was the only woman in the world. Like nothing else mattered but us at this exact moment. His gaze was so pure I could almost cry on the spot.

I hooked my arms around his neck and started to lean closer to him. My eyes fluttered closed and my lips slightly parted. He captured my mouth moments later and his arms swiftly wrapped around my plum form. Aizawa moaned against my lips as if marveling at the sensation. His mouth danced across mine gracefully, following my lead and patiently waiting for the next step.

My hands were in his hair and my thighs rested against his hips. I gently rolled my damn center over his semi-hard front. The lust was quickly growing the long he kissed me and soon I wouldn't be able to contain it. The confession had provided me with all the information I needed— our feelings were mutual. He wanted to give this fake marriage some authenticity and turn it into a real one. I was beyond excited.

I tore my lips away from his searing embrace and whimpered as he dragged a tongue along the side of my neck.

"Take me," I gasped, clawing at his back. "Right here. Right now."

The brunette lifted his head from my neck and immediately started fumbling with the buttons on my blouse. Seconds later, he exposed the lacy number underneath and growled at the sight. His skilled fingers undid the finicky clasp in the back, exposing the plump mounds to his eager eyes.

"Your breasts are so full and round," Aizawa groaned.

His thumbs gently ran across the pebbled nipples and a hiss left my lips.

The older male immediately paused his actions. "Did I hurt you, princess?"

A blush flickered on my cheeks as I sheepishly looked away. "No. . . They're just really sensitive."

"Well, I'll try to be more careful with them," he stated, lowering his body until his face was directly staring at the bosoms.

His hot tongue tenderly flicked the right nipple several times before giving it a long seductive lick. Shivers ran down my spine as he kept giving sloppy kisses to the sensitive bud. The seat of my panties was drenched. My arousal practically glued them to my lower lips. My legs were vibrating with anticipation. The hot mouth moved over to the left nipple and I thought I ascended to heaven. Aizawa moaned as he sucked on the breast. He was enjoying the lewd act and it was intriguing to see.

He released the bud and a long string of drool connected the two as he pulled away. He brought his lips to mine and gave me a mind-numbing kiss. His fingers dipped between my thighs as we made out. He pressed two fingers against the wet area and started to rub small circles right at the top of the slit. My poor clit was already throbbing from the foreplay and it seemed to pulse after that action. I moaned against his lips and pulled away. The area was so wet and sensitive that I knew it wouldn't take long to push me over the edge. Especially after he gave my nipples such delicate care.

"What a cute face my little princess is making," he purred, pressing his forehead to mine. "Looks like she wants to cum."

I nodded, keeping direct eye contact with the seductive man. "I do, you beast. I want to cum all over your pretty cock and gorgeous face. Will you let me?"

The older man groaned and removed his hand from my panties. "Coming on my face is just gonna have to wait until our next rendezvous. I'm afraid if I don't slip into that dripping wet pussy I'm gonna burst. And we wouldn't want that, right?"

"We sure wouldn't," I said absentmindedly rubbing my baby bump.

Aizawa smirked before slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. He threw the cotton garment aside before fiddling with his belt. His eyes never left my face and that seemed to make his actions even hotter. He pulled his pants and boxers down in one swift motion; leaving the thick, long member to spring free.

My eyes widened at the sight. He was certainly bigger than I imagined. Definitely bigger than my ex, who could barely last 5 minutes without busting. Aizawa was indeed a patient man, a kind man. That was the only reason I could gather for why God would bless him with such a beast. Maybe I too was God's favorite, since he allowed me to marry such a good man.

Not only was he fine as hell, tall and rich— his dick was big. I had no doubt I had hit the lottery in the husband department.

"Are you okay, princess?" He asked. "Would you like to take a breather?"

"I breathed enough," I shot back. "Come take these panties off and pound me with your long, thick dick."

Aizawa chuckled and hooked his thumbs under my waistband. He pulled the cotton panties down my plump legs and tossed them to the side. He aligned the head of his cock with my womanhood and just before easing himself in, Aizawa paused and gave me a final look, as if to ask me ‘are you sure?” I nodded immediately and widened my thighs a little bit more. The thick member sunk right into me with little resistance, on account of how wet my womanhood was. Pregnancy amplified all my bodily functions to the hundredth degree, including how soiled my underwear became anytime I saw something that appealed to me. Or, anytime I saw my husband.

The brunette helped me lay flat on my back against the table and adjusted the position of my legs. He hooked my limbs over his forearms and continued to push into me. I gasped when every inch was nestled into my greedy pussy and my eyes fluttered closed. I placed one hand above my head, gripping the edge of the table and the other underneath my belly. I braced myself for impact. Aizawa started off slow, rolling his hips against my pelvis gently. I could feel every inch inside of me. The slow thrusts softly pushed against my sensitive spots, causing me to squirm and wiggle underneath him.

"Can I move a little faster, princess?" He grunted, tilting his hips a little bit.

"Please move faster, beast," I panted, digging my nails into the table. "I cannot take this teasing any longer."

Aizawa took a firm hold of the table and chuckled quietly. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

The older man’s hips gradually began moving faster against mine. At first, my little mewls remained relatively uninterrupted by the change. I pretended to be disinterested in the movements, rolling my eyes and telling him to move faster. To fuck me harder. Informing him that I was displeased by his treatment, Aizawa’s persistent behavior of treating me like a delicate flower was starting to frustrate me. I was a woman above anything else. This pregnancy had almost everyone in my everyday life view me as fragile. Something that could easily be broken with little force and it struck anger in my being. Since my body is sturdy enough to grow an entire human being, I was pretty sure it was strong enough to handle some power thrusts from a man.

“Come on, beast,” I teased, a smile kissing my teeth. “Don’t tell me this is all could do? Some half-hearted pumps and expected me to be satisfied? I thought you were more of a savage than this.”

Without a word, Aizawa started to snap his hips against mine harshly. A good portion of his force was colliding with my body and it made my heart sing. My breath was caught in my throat and my legs started to tremble. I rested my body on my elbows and looked into his dark eyes. He was already looking at my face. The smile on his lips was stirring something within me. Almost like he knew I wouldn’t last long or I couldn’t handle the power of his thrusts. There were two words lingering on his tongue that I was dying to hear him say. Something that would definitely send me over the edge.

The man towering over me tilted his hips once more and a squeal shot out of my mouth. My back fell right back onto the table and I raised both arms above my head to grip the edge. The plush head of the cock was hammering the underside of my cervix, a very sensitive area deep within my cunt. My body started to tremble in response and my breathing became hollow. Pressure started to build in my abdomen and a pool started to form. My walls started to pulse against his massive cock and I couldn’t string together a single thought. My body started to tingle and my mind started to blur. Drool spilled from my lips as my eyes started to roll back.

The orgasm was slow, deep, and damning. My body twisted and contoured into various weird positions as I rode the hot wave. I said my husband’s name like a prayer, chanting it over and over again. I begged him not to stop, to keep going, to take me to heaven. And he did just that. Aizawa kept his hard, sharp pace. He continued to drill that girthy dick into my snatch like he became addicted to the feeling. My body completely succumbed to the pleasure, not wanting to do anything else but relish in it. It wasn’t long before another orgasm began to build and my legs started to tremble all over again.

“Fuck!” I cried, arching my back against the table.

“Come on, princess,” Aizawa cooed. “Give beasty another one. I know you have it in you.”

The older man’s hips started to sputter and twitch, indicating to me that he was next to reach his peak. But, like the respectable man he was, Aizawa continued his sickening pace. Eventually, my eyes gradually opened and I took in the scene before me. A hulking man with rippling muscles and a gorgeous face was looming over me. Drilling his cock in me at a record pace with a smile on his face. He held my legs nice and wide in a seductive ‘v’. He was watching my every expression, movement and taking in my sounds. Aizawa was fully invested in pleasuring my horny, pregnant self and I was grateful. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to feel the weight on his body forever. I never wanted to part from him. I needed to be with him as long as humanly possible.

The second orgasm was harder than the last. It tore through me like lightning and forced my toes to curl. My eyes were wide open for this one. I watched Aizawa lean forward and gather me desperately. He held me close and proceeded to rut into my creamy pussy. He pressed his hot mouth to mine while his hips trembled and spasmed. His head fell on my shoulder when the pleasure became too great and he couldn’t hold out any longer. Hot cum shot into my awaiting womb, gradually filling me to the brim. Aizawa’s slow and rhythmic thrusts made the feeling even more sensual. It was as if he was fucking the semen into me, hoping to make me pregnant all over again.

I never thought I’d have a breeding kink, but his actions convinced me otherwise.

Soon, it was nothing but our labored breathing filling the library. Our bodies were still one and his chest was still pressed against mine. My fingers were slowly running through his hair while his arms were tightly wrapped around my back. It seemed like the older gentleman had no intention of letting me, even though we were both sweaty and panting. It made me feel special.

“Is this okay?” He asked, breaking the silence. “Me holding you like this?”

“It’s fine,” I replied with a sigh.

“Okay. Just let me know if I am crushing you or the baby.”

“Alright, Aizawa,” I giggled.

Suddenly, he lifted his head from my shoulder and pressed his forehead against mine.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, princess,” he acknowledged. “I am your husband, not some stranger on the street.”

“Than what am I supposed to call you then?”

He thought for a moment. “I think Shota would be fitting.”

“Shota?”

“And Beast/Charming on special occasions,” he said with a wink.

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a/n: there are hints in the story letting you know what kind of fic I'll be posting next. let's see who can guess it before sunday.

Also, a little update, I will be posting FULL SMUT SCENES from this point forward. So get ready for 2k - 4k worth of filth. Good luck going to sleep at night.

Finally, let me know if you would like to be added to my official taglist. I will be alerting you everytime I upload!

bye for now!

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