#I know absolute jack shit about this game | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theemporium · 9 months

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[1.8k] when both hughes brothers think the pretty girl at the bar is way too out of quinn's league, not realising she is very much his girlfriend they were about to meet.

not totally convinced i like this but it's the first quinn piece so who knows

“There’s no fucking way, dude.”

“Mhm.”

“She’s out of your league, just drop it.”

“I don’t know, I think I could pull it off.”

Jack raised his brows at his older brother, examining his face like he was trying to work out if he was being serious or not. However, when Quinn showed no signs of joking around—not even a hint of a smile—the boy was inclined to snort and shake his head. Luke, sitting on the other side of his oldest brother, could only join in.

“I love you, but you’re fucking delusional,” Luke told him before his eyes glanced back over to where you were sat at the bar. “Not to be funny, dude, but she looks like she’d walk all over you.”

Quinn just lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, trying to hide the grin that was threatening to break out.

With the chaos of the hockey season and the summer months spent at the lake house, it was rare for his brothers to find a chance to come up to Vancouver. They flew up just as often as he came down to Jersey, which wasn’t enough by any of their likings but it was the unfortunate way things worked.

Unless they were playing a game—like they were in a few days.

With no games or pre-planned duties beforehand, it was easy for Jack and Luke to come up a little earlier than the rest of the team to spend a few days with Quinn. And he was glad to have them up in Vancouver.

Sometimes, it was hard not to feel a little isolated during the season when both his brothers played for the same team and he was left by himself. He wouldn’t change playing for the Canucks, and he adored his team. But he also adored his brothers and maybe, just sometimes, he missed having them be the biggest pain in his ass. Only every once in a while though, not that he would ever admit that to their faces.

But the distance between them and the chaos of the hockey season meant that sometimes it was hard to keep up to date with each other’s lives beyond the messages and odd phone calls they could slip in here or there.

And, to his brothers’ defence, he probably should have told them about you before they arrived in Vancouver.

But the thing between you and Quinn started as a small experiment, no real labels and just a lot of fucking chemistry that both of you were willing to explore during the pre-season training. It didn’t seem like a big deal, or something worth telling his brothers about.

Yet, the weeks went on and the relationship between you two grew stronger and, yeah, it took him a little bit longer than he cared to admit to grow the balls to ask you out. But he got to call you his now so he wasn’t all that bothered with the details.

But you being his girlfriend should have been a detail he shared with his brothers, along with the fact the night out to grab a drink at the local bar near his apartment wasn’t just a random decision but an opportunity to introduce you to them.

And that really was the plan.

However the second they walked into the bar, Jack and Luke had nabbed a table and didn’t give Quinn a chance to explain himself as they waited for his ‘friend’ to show up (not that Quinn used that word, once again, his brothers were just idiots who made assumptions). And Quinn was left staring helplessly at where you sat at the bar, sipping your drink as you probably waited for them to arrive.

And just when Quinn was about to open his mouth again, his brothers picked up on his staring at the pretty girl by the bar and did what brothers do best—rip the absolute shit out of Quinn for thinking he even had a chance.

And Quinn did what oldest brothers do best—he let them continue to embarrass themselves before he proved them both wrong after he had his fun with the situation.

“Let’s make a bet,” Quinn said casually, knowing full well he was about to exploit the competitiveness that ran through all three of them.

Jack’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Go on.”

“I get her number and you both have to give me a hundred bucks,” he said as he glanced between his two brothers.

Luke’s brows furrowed together. “And if she rejects you?”

“I’ll give you both two hundred each,” Quinn stated. “And you get bragging rights that you were correct.”

“Deal,” Jack said without even thinking twice.

“Wait, wait,” Luke quickly spoke up, giving the boy an exasperated look before turning back to Quinn. “You can’t tell her anything about the bet though, that’s cheating.”

Quinn raised his brows. “You don’t think I’m a good sport?”

Luke just shrugged. “Just covering all our bases.”

“Now, go on and embarrass yourself!” Jack grinned as he slapped his older brother on the back in a faux comforting gesture. “We will totally not be recording you from way back here.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “You’re on.”

The oldest Hughes said nothing more as he chugged the last dregs of his beer before stepping away from the table. His lips were pressed together to try and repress his grin as he walked away from his brothers and towards your spot at the bar.

Something in his chest eased a little as he closed the distance between you, his fingers itching to just reach out and hold you close after barely seeing you over the last two days since his brothers arrived. The messages were not enough, not when he was selfish and spoiled having you around him almost every day since the spark between you two started.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

Your head snapped around at the familiar voice, and instantly a smile broke out on your face when you saw your boyfriend sliding into the spot beside you.

His fingers skimmed along the small of your back, the touch small and subtle before his warm palm was pressed against you. It was a comfort you grew to enjoy around Quinn, the fact he always needed to be touching you in some way, shape or form—even if he didn’t realise he was doing. Whether it was his knuckles skimming down your arm, or a hand resting on your ankle when you threw your feet on his lap during movie night, Quinn Hughes always liked the comfort of knowing you were there with him.

And after two days of not seeing you, the palm on the small of your back was almost like a reassurance you were actually sitting next to him and you were not running off again any time soon.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned as you turned on your stool, spreading your legs slightly so the boy could easily stand between them. “Where’s your brothers?”

“They grabbed a table by the back,” he said, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as it rode up slightly, exposing a small slit of skin along your back just above the waistband of your jeans. “You excited to meet them?”

“So excited I almost threw up on the way here,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

“They’re gonna love you,” Quinn reassured you.

“Aren’t you meant to be better at giving pep talks?” You murmured as your hand itched to reach for his, to intertwine your fingers and hold onto him.

“Nah, that’s the captain’s job,” he murmured with a small grin before he nodded vaguely towards the table his brothers were at. “C’mon, gorgeous, you know I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you deadpanned before straightening your spine. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“You ready?” He asked, his brows raised slightly.

“Absolutely not,” you breathed out with a shaky smile. “But that’s what the two margaritas I had before you got here were for.”

Quinn’s lips twitched upwards as he lifted his hand from your back, raising it to gently hold your face in both his palms instead. “It’ll be fine, baby, I promise.”

You leaned in before you overthought it, enjoying the first kiss you were able to get from him after over forty-eight hours of nothing. You sunk into his embrace, your fingers looped into the belt hoops of his jeans as you tugged him closer, a needy noise sounding from the back of your throat that had him smiling against your lips.

“Easy, tiger,” he murmured, his nose playfully nudging yours.

“It was for confidence,” you said shamelessly as you pulled back, an innocent expression on his face.

Quinn huffed out a laugh. “Sure.”

The defenceman let you intertwine your hands together before he began to lead you through the bustling crowd at the bar, his hand squeezing yours to reassure you were behind him. But, his attention was momentarily drawn away from you as he noticed his brothers’ table a few feet away—and more importantly, the absolutely gobsmacked and baffled expressions both his younger brothers were wearing.

Their jaws were hitting the table by the time Quinn stood on the other side, pulling you forward until his arm was wound around your waist to hold you close to his side.

“Guys, meet my girlfriend.”

Luke blinked, his face absolutely blank.

However, Jack’s reaction was a lot more animated.

“Girlfriend?!” Jack spluttered out before shaking his head, a noise mixed between a scoff and a laugh leaving his lips as he pointed between the two of you. “This is cheating! You were in cahoots!”

Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “Cahoots?”

“Cahoots!” Jack repeated passionately.

Quinn only shrugged, glancing at you before he glanced back towards his brothers. “Say what you want but I’m pretty sure I won the bet.”

“The bet?” You questioned.

“They didn’t think you were in my league,” Quinn mused, a glint of mischief in his eyes that told you more than enough. It took mere seconds to put together what the boy had just pulled off, and you could only snort in response.

“You’re evil,” you murmured with a shake of your head.

“I agree with your girlfriend!” Jack huffed out as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Quinn rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic, Rowdy.”

“You’re a cheat!” Jack shot back.

“Luke doesn’t seem to think so,” Quinn retorted, and all eyes turned to the youngest Hughes who looked up from his phone, a blush painted across his cheeks.

“Oh no, I think you’re a dirty cheat,” he said, his lips pressed together. “I was just messaging the family group chat so we don’t have to pay.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Dick.”

“Be nice,” you playfully scolded with a shake of your head. “You were the one that tricked them.”

“Their fault for being stupid enough to fall for it,” Quinn shrugged.

“You never told us you had a girlfriend!”

“All I’m hearing is excuses.”

“That’s it, I’m calling mom.”

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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puckinghischier · 1 month

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Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

“He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

501 notes · View notes

ma1dita · 7 months

Text

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #marauders era #james potter x you

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tf-lover · 5 months

Text

Christmas Switch-Up

My gift for @bodyswapmischief based off his prompt for me. Hope you all enjoy, and Merry late Christmas!

~~~

“Jack, get off your fucking ass and help me damn it!” Darren called in through the kitchen door.

His useless son was finally home for Christmas, and Darren had been long hoping the athletic young man would be able to help out around the place with all the long overdue jobs that needed doing. The loft needed emptying of the random junk that’d built up over the years, snow needed clearing from the driveway and the roof, and there was a long list of things that needed repairing among other things. But of course, Jack had been sitting on his ass in his room for days just playing video games and working out in the home gym Darren had put together for him years ago.

“Dad, I told you I’m busy! Do that shit yourself, it’s boring!” Jack shouted back from where Darren already knew he was working out. “Or hire someone to do it for fuck sake, you’re loaded!”

Darren pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He wasn’t going to get mad, he wasn’t. It would help anything, yet all he wanted to do still was scream at his ungrateful son. “If you’re going to be a lazy little shit Jack then I’m going out! I’ll be back in a few hours.” He shouted back at his son as he made his way back inside and through the house. Cooling off was needed, and Darren had other ideas of how he could get what he wanted this Christmas…

~~~

A few hours later…

“You want us to do what, Dad?” Jack asked from his position on the sofa, barely able to believe what his father was suggesting.

Darren shrugged. He’d been out shopping at a particular occult shop he knew of hidden away in the centre of the city for just the thing to get what he needed. Now he had it, swapping with his son was actually possible.

“You heard me. I want to swap bodies with you for the Christmas break.” He said simply.

It was a simple enough suggestion, and it wasn’t like he’d spoken in riddles or anything either. His son was home for Christmas break and with his usual manically busy social calendar wanted nothing more than to spend the two weeks relaxing and doing absolutely nothing. His father had other ideas though, namely the jobs around the house that needed doing. Repairs that needed to be made; furniture that needed to be moved; all things that became infinitely easier with his jock of a son around to help. Darren was past his prime, having gained more weight than he would have liked thanks to an injury that stopped him working out as much as he used to, and his advancing age.

“But that’s not even possible Dad?! And even if it was, why would I want to do that?” Jack continued to protest. “I don’t want to be you, no offence but I’ve worked too hard to suddenly get older and fatter!”

“Well it’s that or you get up off your ass and help me with the jobs that need doing, I’ve told you that already. You know I can’t do them on my own, so if you’re staying here for Christmas instead of with your friends then I expect you to at least help a little.” Darren folded his arms and frowned at his son. “Or, you can laze around in my body as much as you want to, and I’ll use yours to do everything that needs doing around here. Won’t make a difference to you if all you’re doing is sitting around watching TV and jerking off, maybe you can even do me a favour and get me in better shape.”

“DAD!!” Jack blushed furiously at being called out by his father of all people. They were both men at the end of the day, but that just made it more embarrassing at his father’s willingness to call him out. “You really… Eugh.”

Darren reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pair of identical rings, then tossed one at his son. “Put that on and we’ll swap for the holiday or get off your ass, it’s that simple.”

Jack caught the ring with one hand then frowned at it. He barely understood what his Dad was going on about with all this talk of being in his body. His Dad came out with some strange things at the best of times, but this was the strangest of all of them. Still, if it was a choice between proving his dad was talking shit again and not doing that, Jack knew what he’d pick. His old man was just trying to scare him into not being lazy, that was all.

The second Jack slipped the ring on, his head felt fuzzy. There was nothing else though, no sudden swap or anything like that. Because of course there wasn’t, Jack knew it was all bullshit.

“Ha, how about that? Lying after all Dad, what h-”

The world lurched around Jack as his father put the other ring on. One minute he was sitting on the sofa, the next he was across the room looking back at his own smirking face. Everything felt wrong, felt heavy and hairy in all the wrong places. Worn out when he’d always felt full of energy usually.

“Got something to say now Jack?” He heard his own body saying. “Or, maybe I should be calling you Dad now for the holidays, since we wouldn’t want anyone to know anything is amiss.”

Jack’s mouth hung open in shock. He’d really done it, his asshole of a father had actually stolen his body! “What?? What the actual fuck??” Jack looked down at the slightly chubby body of his father he now resided in. “No. No way you can do this to me Dad, I can’t be you!”

Darren stood up in his son’s younger body, feeling better than he had in 20 years. “I can and I did. I told you what would happen if you put the ring on, and it happened. Now they won’t come off until the holiday is up, so have fun being a lazy shit in my body Dad, I’m going to finally sort the house out.”

All Jack could do was stand and watch his own body saunter off past him into the kitchen. A few sounds echoed out from there as he tried to process all of this and how tired he felt all of a sudden, the clink of metal making him think his dad was probably grabbing the tool he kept under the sink. He even tried to pull the ring off, but sure as his father had said it wasn’t going to budge. He was really stuck as some fat, hairy old guy!

Meanwhile, as Jack tried to come to terms with what had happened, his father in his body was off already starting work. Already he had the motivation from his now young, fit body to get on with things, which was quite the change to his usual feelings. Many years ago a serious sporting injury had knocked him out for a while and taken him off the competitive athlete path; whilst that had led him into a very lucrative career otherwise he still regretted how he’d fallen off the sporting wagon. Now he was both young and fit again he felt wonderful, reminded of what he’d lost.

~~~

The next few days consisted of a lot of hard work from Darren. Amed with his son’s body, he surprised himself with how fast he got everything done. He had originally expected it to take days and days, hence setting the duration to the whole holiday. Yet, after only a few days he had pretty much everything on his very long list done. Snow was cleared, the living room had been completely rearranged, as had the attic. Repairs had been made that’d been needing done for longer than he liked, and he’d even cleaned a few things he hadn’t realised needed it.

All that left him with far more time on his hands than he’d originally planned. Days and days left when he thought he wouldn’t have any time free. So, much to his son’s annoyance Darren decided to go out.

“See you later Dad! I’m going out for a bit, I won’t be late back!” He called before he ran out the door and left his son alone.

Jack wanted to punch his Dad as he heard him leave, and he would’ve if it wasn’t for it being his own body. All these past few days his father had been flaunting his body as he did all the work around the house. Dressed in almost nothing so he didn’t get his son’s clothes dirty or so he claimed, reminding Jack every second the swap he’d accidentally gone through. And now he had the nerve to go out and flaunt Jack’s body as if it were his own, even still insisting on calling him Dad.

Jack hadn’t been slacking though. Far from it. He was determined to prove his old man wrong and make the best of all this, so he’d taken to working out like crazy. Pushing himself as hard as he could to prove it wasn’t the body that kept his father back, but his attitude. He’d made good progress too, surprising even himself. He’d lifted heavier and for longer than he could in his own body, and all it’d taken was pushing through the struggle and pain at the beginning.

The once nice thing about the swap was Jack could finally eat whatever he wanted without caring. It wasn't his body and his Dad had long let himself go, so besides working out hard to prove anyone could do it, Jack let himself indulge in some of the things he didn't usually eat. A strict diet kept his body in perfect shape, but since his dad’s shape was already rounder with fat than it was muscle, what was the harm? And, he had to admit that the maturity was nice. The few occasions he did have to go out to deal with something at his Dad’s job or go grocery shopping, no one treated him like some annoying delinquent kid. He wasn’t seen as a youth around to cause trouble, he was a respected member of the community.

He did get curious as the week went on though. He’d given up removing the ring, it was clear enough that was never going to happen, but he did wonder where his father had got them from. He knew his Dad had connections in his fancy business world, he’d dealt with a few of them on his Dad’s behalf these last few days, but he didn’t know where he’d actually found magical rings capable of forcing them into each other’s bodies.

So, instead of spending every waking moment shouting at his father running around partying in his body, Jack did some digging. His son was out of the house enough sleeping his way through the city in the run up to Christmas, so he had plenty of time to search online for any sign of where something like this could be acquired.

At first, nothing.

No amount of searching high or low online turned up any results about magical body swapping rings you could buy; a few erotic stories but nothing real.

So he changed tactics.

He remembered the day his father had come back home with the rings after an argument, so he tried to retrace his dad’s steps. Checked his phone, asked people his dad was friends with, anything. And there he had it. Tucked away in his dad’s apps, the last saved location his dad must have used for directions to wherever he got them from. And it was local. Within the city, right in the centre tucked away between two massive office buildings. It would have been easy for his father to slip out to the place and be back within a few hours, all under the pretence of getting coffee with this friend of his and talking business like he’d claimed before he left.

All Jack had to do now was go back there for answers.

~~~

The next day…

Darren was once again on his way out. He’d loved the past week in this younger body, and with all the free time had already got a few regular hookups from his first few days clubbing. Now he was off again to find another one; this younger body was deliciously insatiable and far better than his older one.

“Son, can I borrow you for a minute before you go? Just something I want to check with you.” His old body’s voice came from behind him just as he’d been about to leave.

He sighed. He was glad at least Jack had taken this so well in the last few days instead of being angry. Even joined in on Darren’s plan to refer to each other as father and son on the off chance they had guests over or went out anywhere together so they didn’t slip. As much as he was eager to get going and find someone else to fuck, he could at least have a five minute chat. Besides, if it was yet another question about his job he’d need to answer it.

He turned and smiled at his son in his old body, one he wasn’t finding himself missing in the slightest. “What is it Dad?”

Jack returned the smile, but it wasn’t a kind one. “You see, I went back to that little shop you bought these rings from.”

Darren’s eyes widened in panic knowing his son had found the place, which just made Jack smirk.

“Left the location in your google maps, didn’t think I’d look and see? Anyway, I went back there. Had a lovely chat with the old woman behind the counter, who told me all about these rings. And you know what she said? Swapping bodies is just a side effect of their main purpose. They can do far, far more than that.”

Darren went white as a sheet. He’d been galavanting off flaunting his new body and living it up, all without a care for how he’d stolen his son’s body and was rubbing it in. Now that brashness was coming back to bite him in the ass. Only, he had no idea how badly. He hadn’t bothered to ask about them or even pay the shopkeeper much attention, just dropped a large sum of money for two rings that would do the job he wanted. Now, as he’d been on the way to yet another random hookup, he’d been cornered.

“What… What can they do?” He gulped.

Jack smirked. “Why don’t I show you instead of explaining it? I’ll warn you though, you’ll have to cancel your hookup…”“W-Wait, you don’t have t-” Darren started, but it was too late. Jack had already done something to his ring that made the matching one on his finger burn hot.

Darren looked up from his finger, only to watch in horror as his own fat body seemed to shed the weight it’s carried in seconds. The body he’d rid himself off by swapping with his son, the one he’d been secretly hoping he’d never have to be back in, starting to change before his very eyes. Gone was the round belly, gone were the flabby arms and sagging chest. Gone even were some of the greying hairs in his beard and the more worn lines of age that’d developed.

Instead, a beast of a man was emerging.

Ripped all over, the kind of muscle you only got from a lifetime of dedication. It was the type of body his son Jack would have grown into when he reached Darren’s age if he kept up the same gym routine and they hadn’t been all swapped around. It was no less old either, instead looked like an older man that actually knew how to take care of himself. Ate right, took care of his skin, kept his hair and beard well groomed. What made him look even bigger though Darren realised was just how close they’d got and-

“Wait, when did I get over here??” Darren said when he found himself standing in front of his old body, their ringed hands clasped together.

Jack pulled a cheeky looking innocent expression. He knew exactly what was going on, but he wasn’t going to say. The pair were merging together, the younger body that had once belonged to Jack being consumed to mould the older one into its perfect potential state. Soon enough there would only be one person living in this house, one perfectly handsome older man instead of a fat old guy and his son.

Instead of letting any of that on though, Jack watched as his father’s panic only grew. He tried to pull away, but that only brought the pair closer and closer together. Jack’s older body was becoming a far more muscular and ruggedly handsome version of what it had once been; its potential finally unlocked. Jack wouldn’t miss his old body, not in the long run, it’d be gone and his father with it to make all these improvements, but it was so worth it.

Darren found himself getting closer and closer as his son’s body towered over him more and more, all until he felt himself slip away completely. He hadn’t noticed his body fading and shrinking in his panic watching his old body change, and now he had it was far too late. Because he didn’t have a body anymore he realised. Somehow in the shuffle his body had vanished, yet he could still hear and see and feel the sight of Jack’s older body as if he’d been kneeling in front of it.

“Alright in there Dad?” Jack’s voice came from somewhere above before Darren felt an entire hand wrapping around his being. “You can’t talk, I know, so you’ll have to sit in my balls and listen to me, alright?”

“You see Dad, I’ve learned a thing or two since being forced into your body.” Jack said from his new mature, ripped body as he ran his hands over it. “I’ve learned that being a slightly older man isn’t so bad, especially when it’s one that comes with so much money. I’ve learned that you were an asshole for stealing my body from me and trying to pass it off as your own, so I’m doing one better.” He gave his large balls a squeeze, knowing what remained of his father’s consciousness was stored away in there. “So I’m taking your life with a few upgrades. You never had a kid you got stuck with, not as far as this new you is concerned. I’m a single bachelor, a Daddy that’s going to have boys and girls alike falling at his feet.”

Jack glanced down at the interlinked rings on his finger. Two halves of a whole, he didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before. He grabbed it, took a breath, then pulled them both off and dropped it on the coffee table with a soft clatter of metal against glass.

“Maybe I’ll have a kid one day when I feel like settling down Dad, but until then you can watch me show you what your life could have been.” Jack, now officially his father Darren, grinned. He was going to make the absolute most of his new life as Darren.

#my writing #male transformation #body swap #age progression #father and son #merging #daddy #tfstoryexchange

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jacy-gir1 · 4 months

Text

Heyyy, NSFW alphabet featuring shinsou. Obviously 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is the kind of guy to be instantly tired, he wants to hold you, lazily kiss you, cuddle you as you fall asleep after sex. He doesn’t mind if there’s a little mess and your both naked he just wants you in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Thighs absolutely no questions asked. He wants to kiss them, touch them, squeeze them, put his head in between them, you name it. There’s no better way to relax after a long day of work then to lay down in your pillowy thighs.

C = Cum (Where does he want to cum?)

Back to the last one, thighs definitely. If they aren’t available then stomach, back, or tits. There’s just something about seeing himself sprayed on your body it’s like an animal marking there territory.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Actually really into dominantrics (idk how to spell that just go with it) but would never tell you because he’s super embarrassed. He secretly would enjoy being bossed around, told how to please you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s watched a fair share of porno but was a virgin before he met you, surprisingly he was a natural in bed, a quick learner you’d call him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, some may say it’s boring but it gets all the right spots, he can kiss you while rearranging your guts, easy access to your clit and curves, and best of all your neck is so so easy to grab.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious, so serious it’s goofy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches the drapes, purple stubble

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Less romantic then you’d expect, he’s a fan of hard kinky sex, not the type of stuff you’d call “making love” but it’s romantic in his own way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A lot, If he’s horny and your not available his hand is on his cock. He jacks off to pictures of you in a swimsuit. He has jerked off next to you in bed while you were sleeping multiple times, he dreads you waking up but also gets off on it

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

About the level of kinky as you’d expect, he’s into shibari, putting you in collars (a little pet play), and using his quirk on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed, it’s the most comfortable for both of you and you don’t have to worry about it not working for his favorite positions.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly you teasing him but sometimes he just gets random boners. If you really want to get him going then strip tease when he’s not expecting it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Role play, he hates thinking about fucking anyone but you. Other then that he’s super open to whatever you want to try; my man does not kink shame

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Not very good at giving but lovvvvves receiving, it’s his favorite way to cum, with your mouth wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Very rough and fast paced, this man rails the shit of you it is not gentle. However if you feel like it’s to much he becomes more gentle with you, your pleasure comes before him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan of quickies, he prefers longs nights where you can do multiple rounds and fall asleep after

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Loves to push yours and his own boundaries, he’s not Risky in the sense of doing it in public though

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

About 4, you’ll know when he’s tired out

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It’s hit or miss with toys but he loves putting you in collars and using controlled toys to tease and edge you with

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His version of foreplay is teasing the shit out of you, but after that he just wants to get lost in you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a grunter and whimperer definitely, loud in a quiet way if that makes any sense.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Reads cringy smut fanfiction and imagines you as main characters

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like 6inches, not enough to be painful for you but big enough to make you feel like he’s in your stomach

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Depends, it’s like seasonal with this man, super horny during winter, super chill during summer.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Two fucking seconds after he cums he’s snoring while holding you tight, more cuddles the better

#mha x reader #mha #mha smut #smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou smut

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bigfatbimbo · 27 days

Note

I am haunted by visions of Vox with a capable assistant who doms him after hours. The role reversal of guy thinking he can fuck his secretary but she turns the tables and fucks him has me sweating

I got inspired by a turn of phrase that would might have been popular a little bit before Vox’s time “his girl, Friday”

Basically a “girl Friday” was a term used for a woman in the office who acted as a jack of all trades and was good at doing a bunch of different jobs. This person was usually very capable and the office’s go-to-girl for anything and everything

So I keep imagining Vox with this hyper-competent assistant. He hires her and after becoming familiar with the company, she manages to handle things before he even asks her to do them. He decides to try and rattle her a bit with impossible tasks to knock her down a peg, but she takes that as a challenge and somehow completes them with a smarmy “will that be all,sir”

Game on. He keeps challenging her and asking for crazier shit just to prove that she can be shaken. She doesn’t even flinch, it’s a little intimidating and bruises his ego

Eventually he’s working late (which means she’s working late because somehow their work ethics are equally insane) and he starts being all snide and pissy and she just puts him in his place, insulting his behavior and his temper and physically backs him into his desk before telling him that he needs to be taught proper manners

And from then on, by day she’s Vox’s right hand who never leaves his side. But by night she bends her boss over his desk or presses him into his office chair, making him whimper and moan as she teaches him a lesson and berates him

So yeah, boss tries to dominate assistant but she effortlessly reverses their roles and makes him cry “Yes, ma’am!”

People think he’s tapping his assistant but whenever comments are made they share a look and Vox just thinks “they can’t ever know that I call you Mommy”

So the other day, I posted about wanting to do a human Vox au but lacking ideas, and one of the comments was involving an assistant x boss type deal. I don’t know if this ask is unrelated or directly caused by that post, but it gives me lots of ideas for a more specific au involving human Vox.

Anyways, since it wasn’t specified, i’ll keep the alive or dead details pretty vague. When I tell you this idea has been rotting in my brain all day, I fucking mean it.

Like this is genuinely about to get me out of writers block oh my fucking god. “His girl, friday” is a term i’ve never heard before but it’s so fitting with this. I love the go-getter incredibly efficient reader so much.

And god, it would bother Vox to an ungodly point. Because being in close quarters a lot, you being his assistant, of course he picks up on your efficiency. It makes him a little insecure because you honestly get things done quicker than he could.

So after throwing everything he can at you to knock you overboard your parade of orderliness, and you doing it all absolutely flawlessly, he can’t help but throw one of his tantrums.

Coming to him at the the end of the day, explaining you did everything he’d asked, and went beyond, closed multiple business deals for him, and got the inside information on upcoming possible marketing events. He should be happy, this objectively helps his business. But instead, he sits at his desk, watching you from across the room, before absolutely exploding.

I mean, you do his jobs better than he does. And he goes on a huge rant about how he doesn’t believe this, and how you must have absolutely no life, and basically degrading and insulting you for doing your job correctly.

And then yes, you yell at him, practically daring him to fire you. He won’t, you’re too much of an asset. You’re basically untouchable. So with that, you yell back, but unlike Vox who erupted with rage, you keep yourself as level headed as possible while talking sternly. Make even talking to him condescending as of talking to a child, explaining how it’s absolutely unbelievable he’s throwing a fit over good work ethic, and how he’d have to be out of his mind to pout about something so beneficial for Voxtech.

Going on and on about how his competitive, aggressive, targeting work behavior is unacceptable and pathetic… and now you have him back up against his desk, his sneer turning into a look of astonishment.

And then his eyes dart down, heat rising to his cheeks, and you notice the bulge in his pants. At first, you go silent, but then tease him with “You want me to take care of that too? Or will you yell at me for being too good at my job.”

Well, then he’s mad again. Probably definitely a struggle for power the first time you fuck. Yes, he tries to dom you, and fails because jesus, he really was pathetic. But you have him lied back in his chair, pinning his wrists down to either side of him, while you ride his dick into overstimulation. But he’s trying to keep quiet so no one else is the office hears his whimpers and whines.

But when he gets too loud, simply remind him that you’ll have to stop and he responds with a watery, whimper of “Y-yes ma’am.”

Now, fridays are dedicated to his girl, friday. Coincidentally, you’re both working late on those days, and even more coincidentally, you have business in his office.

That business being bending Vox over his desk until he has to cover his pathetic sobs with his hand so a janitor doesn’t hear him crying for his mommy.

Anyways, I’m almost done. I think this specifically appeals to me in a human Vox au sense because i’m hell, a work place of hell wouldn’t be particularly normalized, but it’s hell so it’s absolutely not frowned upon. He’d probably get teased about it at best, and literally a high five for tapping that. But in a human au, the stakes are much higher because there’s an actual sense of ethics and morals in business.

Also in the fifties, do you even know how taboo it would be for a boss to not only be sleeping with his assistant, but getting dominated by her every night???? I dunno.

Oh and the toxic masculinity of it all because it’s the 1950s and without being exposed to the normalization of kinks in hell, it would be so hard to break this brat down. Obviously not impossible, it’s Vox. But so much more irritating.

However, i’m hesitant to actually do a human au literally because of the silly picture I always put at the beginning. Because like I have such a specific image of what he looks like in my head (the @//notherpuppet human design) but… I don’t want to have to DM an artist and be like “Hey! love the art, can I use it for my dom reader power dynamic assistant x boss Vox x reader human au fic 😁😁😁🙏🙏” LIKE GANG I CANNOT.

Anyways, this wasn’t proofread, rant over, bimbo out.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #inbox open #sub vox

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thegayestmferintown · 1 month

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Can i request for any twisted wonderland characters that's fit x reader who don't know how to cook

yeah, of course!

Some of these characters have shorter parts because I added every character in the game, minus side characters such as (Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker (Che'nya), Rollo Flamme, et cetera)

Also! If there are any inadequacies with grammar, I apologize, I'm at a friend's house while i'm writing this and I'm very easily distracted.

If it's not obvious, I'm a sucker for soft Sebek

Ortho is strictly platonic!

And Reader can be viewed as either Yuu or not!

@nisobird because there's Azul

Warnings ;; None

Relationship ;; Romantic

Type ;; Headcanons

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts ;; Heartslabyul Housewarden ;; Second Year

Riddle's world comes crashing down, in all honesty.

The boy was raised with the ideal that a partner is supposed to be at least a decent cook, but you are the exact opposite.

He will eat your food only to be nice.

Even though he can't cook all that well himself, he'll try to suggest ways to make it better even though none of his suggestions really, truly help the awfulness of your cooking.

Let's just hope you don't end up cooking for his mother.

Trey Clover ;; Heartslabyul Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Trey is quite literally the sunshine to your moonlight, your sky to your ground.

You two are total, clear opposites.

He can cook almost anything without flaw, especially pastries and sweets.

He will panic if he ever sees you in the kitchen, trying to cook something.

He'll subtly take over for you, slowly taking more and more control of the kitchen.

Cater Diamond ;; Heartslabyul ;; Third Year

Cater would not care one single bit.

He is taking so, so many photos and posting them on Magicam, he does not give two shits whether it looks amazing, or absolutely terrible.

He will post it, specifically because you're his partner, you're his significant other.

And yes, he will shove it down his throat even if he needs to vomit it up later.

Ace Trappola ;; Heartslabyul ;; First Year

Ace can't cook, not one bit.

He's also very weird about his tastes.

He'll eat pickles and ice cream but he probably won't eat a single slice of cheese.

He'll eat anything you make at all whatsoever, unless there's cheese. (I headcanon he absolutely hates cheese, don't ask why)

He'll watch you cook and won't even interfere.

He does notice how bad your cooking is but he won't say or do anything about it because he genuinely does not care.

He'll even tell you it's actually good

Deuce Spade ;; Heartslabyul ;; First Year

Deuce doesn't even notice how bad it is, and if he did, he wouldn't even care.

He'll anything and everything, minus bell peppers.

He cannot, and will not, eat bell peppers.

He hates the taste, the texture, everything about bell peppers is everything he hates in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He tends to not watch you cook and has no reason for it.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar ;; Savanaclaw Housewarden ;; Third Year

Leona's not exactly shameless when it comes to meats, despite any sort of meat being among his absolute favorite foods.

He's not very picky about meats though. Just as long as it's cooked decently, and seasoned alright, he's fine.

Despite being a literal prince, he does not have a prince's palette.

He'll literally eat raw meat if it suits his needs

Of course, that's mostly because of the lion beastman part of him

Ruggie Bucchi ;; Savanaclaw ;; Second Year

Ruggie is literally shameless, make him anything and he'll eat it.

Just as long as it's not rotten, he'll eat quite literally anything.

He's not the greatest cook, but he'll help in any way he possibly can.

He'll most definitely bring your food to the kids in his neighborhood, no matter how terrible it is.

He wants to make sure they're fed, and he's happy when you're willing to cook.

He never tells you if he genuinely thinks you're food is bad, he'll end up feeling terrible and he knows that so he won't say a thing about your cooking.

Unless it's any sort of praise.

Jack Howl ;; Savanaclaw ;; First Year

Jack isn't entirely picky, but he's not the biggest fan of your cooking.

Being who he is, he'll feel bad for even thinking that your food is bad.

Also being the honest man he is, he'll sadly point it out to you, admitting his wrongdoing.

He's a big sweetheart, so he'll try to be as kind to you as he can, no matter how you end up reacting.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

Given that Azul grew up with his mother owning a restaurant, and he himself owning a restaurant, he's a bit... iffy over your cooking skills.

Of course, he'll always be nice when he brings it up. You're his significant other after all.

He'll point it out and he may give you some of his mom's recipes to help you follow along.

He helps you cook much more than he used to, letting you have most of the control, but he will come in if he sees you do something wrong.

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

Jade finds you and your cooking very, very entertaining.

He doesn't ever actually help you unless he finds you cooking mushrooms and.... screwing them up.

After that, he's immediately on your case and helping you cook.

Within the next two or three weeks, you're an absolute master chef.

Especially with mushrooms. By time Jade is done with you, you're more than likely a better chef when it comes to mushrooms than he is.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd thinks you are the most entertaining human he's ever met.

Like some other people, he doesn't think your food is bad, just that it's so unbelievably entertaining and unique.

He actually doesn't try to help your cooking or change it or buy you anything new.

He simply watches the chaos of your cooking unfold, while occasionally adding his own, odd concoction to the mix.

And he will eat your food, no matter what you put on his plate, or what you put in the odd concoction you call your cooking.

Just don't add any shiitake mushrooms, he begs of you.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim ;; Scarabia Housewarden ;; Second Year

Kalim more than likely trusts you enough to not have Jamil test the food you give him.

The only way Jamil would let Kalim eat your food is if Jamil himself trusted you.

So, if Jamil trusted you, Kalim would more than happily eat your food himself.

He probably wouldn't care if your food was the best food in the whole of Twisted Wonderland, or if your food is the worst thing in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He'll eat it happily and won't complain one bit.

Jamil Viper ;; Scarabia Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

Jamil, if he truly trusts you, will eat small bits of your food and will help you cook every single time you step in a kitchen.

He won't completely take over like Trey would, but he will guide you in every single way, subtle or not.

Once you get better and better, he'll eat your food more and more.

He'll take over for you at any time and finish the cooking for you, if that's what you'd like, all you'd have to do is say the word.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit ;; Pomefiore Housewarden ;; Third Year

You're going to make the Vil Schoenheit break out. And that's a feat, especially considering his rigorous skincare routine.

He won't eat any of your food, and he will flat-out tell you, in a relatively nice tone of voice, that your food is not exactly good.

If he realizes that it hurts you, he'll try to find ways for your cooking to taste relatively better, whether it be buying you new utensils, or buying you cookbooks or any other things like that.

He promises you that he never meant to hurt you, he just wants to... help.

Rook Hunt ;; Pomefiore Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Oh, Rook does not care. He genuinely thinks that your cooking is beautiful and wonderful in every single way possible.

He will eat your food and compliment you even if you put whole-ass children's toys in your food.

He'll buy you whatever you need for your cooking without you even need to ask him, he's kind of a freak like that.

Epel Felmier ;; Pomefiore ;; First Year

Epel is very in the middle, he's fine with your bad cooking just.... don't make him eat it because he will act like a toddler having to eat vegetables.

Or, that's what he says he won't do.

He says he'll be all manly and eat it like a man, but you know for a fact that he won't and he will act like a little kid.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud ;; Ignihyde Housewarden ;; Third Year

Idia barely eats as it is, so when you bring him food, his hair will immediately turn pink and he'll try to hide his face by tightening his hood over his head.

He won't care whether it's bad or good, he'll only care about the fact that you actually... brought him food.

Of course, Ortho does so all the time, but it's different when your significant other brings you a whole meal because they don't want you to starve.

Once again, he doesn't care whether it's good or bad, he'll shove it down his throat either way.

Ortho Shroud ;; Ignihyde ;; First Year

Ortho can't exactly eat, given that he's both a robot and a machine.

But he'll look up recipes and help you cook and help you get as best and as good as you can get.

He'll always help, and use every single upgrade he's ever got put into him by his big brother to help you cook as best as you can.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia ;; Diasomnia Housewarden ;; Third Year

Oh, boy. Malleus is scared that he has another Lilia on his hands. Of course, your food is not as bad as Lilia's, but it's still not, for lack of a better word, good.

He will eat it, but he'll compliment and praise your cooking in a very... odd way.

He'll compliment you, yes. But he'll also add in some, not-so-subtle ways you can improve.

Don't tell him, he genuinely thinks his attempts at helping are extremely subtle, when they are absolutely not.

Lilia Vanrouge ;; Diasomnia Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Lilia, like Rook, Kalim, and Deuce, won't even notice that your food is bad.

And that is mostly because he, himself is a bad chef.

He's such a bad chef he can't even tell when foods are actually bad.

Even if he could tell that your food was not good, he still wouldn't care because he just loves you far, far too much to even think of pointing it out.

Silver Vanrouge ;; Diasomnia ;; Second Year

Silver is internally sobbing. First, his Father, and now, his significant other.

He's very sweet about telling you ways you can improve.

He actually does this with his father, too. But you're the only one who picks up on it, Lilia, sadly, does not.

Silver tries his absolute hardest to help, but he eventually succumbs to his sleep, but he always profusely apologizes afterward.

Sebek Zigvolt ;; Diasomnia ;; First Year

Sebek is oddly much sweeter about it than you'd ever expect.

He doesn't yell, but he does let you know that it doesn't taste good.

He explains ways you can fix it, despite he himself not knowing how to cook all that well.

He explains everything he knows about cooking to try and help you.

If Sebek manages to view a human as a significant other, or partner, he will dote on your every need or want in the sweetest way that you'd never, ever expect from him.

He's very sweet as he helps you cook, making sure that you do everything to the best of your genuine ability.

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