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tropes-and-tales · 7 months

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Good Girl

Day 2: Dry humping (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Idiots in love; praise kink; smut (dry humping; outercourse; whatever the youths call it now - clothed grinding and such); 18+ only.

Word Count: 2996

AN: This is loosely related to the very loosely-formed Seresin cousin mini-series, found here. It was requested for Kinktober by @justreblogginfics!)

You and Bob continue your little dance for months.

You know the man likes you. Every time you fly into town to visit your cousin Jake, Bob is always nearby, staring at you on the sly like a lovesick puppy. He’s always just at the edge of the group gatherings—nights at the Hard Deck, parties at Nat’s house, afternoons at the beach—and you always feel those big blue eyes tracking your movements.

Everyone else notices it. Harvard and Yale corner you at the Hard Deck, ask if you’ve noticed that you have an admirer. Nat pulls you aside at her barbeque and obliquely gives you a rundown of Bob’s numerous good traits. Only Jake holds his tongue, but you catch him narrowing his eyes at the WSO enough that you realize even your cousin—your cousin with his penchant for being self-centered, the handsome narcissist with the blinding smile—has noticed Bob’s crush too.

Bob never makes a move.

Nights at the Hard Deck when you blatantly lament being single. The party at Bob’s house where you stayed behind to help him clean up. The little touches you chance: brushing your hand against his, a light hand on his shoulder, friendly hugs…they are an invitation, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

It’s Rooster who clues you in. The man takes your hand one night at the bar and tugs you outside where the ocean crashes along the shore in the darkness. In the dim light, you can just make out the man as he peers down at you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says. “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You catch the white of his eyes as he rolls them. “C’mon. It’s obvious you like Bob, but you gotta make the move if you’re interested. You gotta be blatant with him. He won’t get it otherwise.”

“Why not?” Your stomach twists unpleasantly; you wonder if perhaps you’ve misread the situation. Maybe Bob has a crush, but maybe it’s just a crush, and maybe there’s someone else he loves and this is just a passing bit of madness—

“Guy’s a brilliant wizzo, but he’s clueless with women.”

Now you roll your eyes at Rooster, and he chuckles at the gesture.

“I’m serious!” he continues, and he holds his hands up, helpless. “I think he misread a situation once with a girl when he was younger, and I think it scared him off of making the first move.”

“That’s a terrible excuse. I got food poisoning from bad tacos once but I still eat tacos.”

Rooster chuckles again. “Yeah, but you women can be devastating when you reject us. I think poor Baby on Board was crushed before and now he’s just a pining little asshole, staring at you from across the bar.”

You shrug helplessly and glance back into the Hard Deck: you can see Bob in profile, and you get the impression that he’s just turned away, that he didn’t want to get caught watching you. Watching you and Rooster together, chatting outside, laughing outside. You feel a wave of sympathy for what Bob must be thinking—that you’re flirting with Rooster, that maybe Bob has missed his chance.

You turn back to the pilot. You square your shoulders. “Okay, I hear you. I’ll be the brave one.” A beat as anxiety blooms in your chest, makes your ribcage feel a fraction tighter, makes it just a bit harder to draw a full breath. “And you’re sure he likes me? You aren’t misreading this somehow? I don’t want to look like an idiot, Bradshaw.”

He laughs outright, and he hooks an arm around your neck to pull you into a friendly hug.

“Ah, kid, he loves you. You make the first move, he’ll probably go ring shopping next weekend,” he says, and he lays a smacking kiss on the side of your head before releasing you, shoving you gently back towards the bar.

-----

You may be confident, but that confidence doesn’t always extend into your romantic life. Still, you decide to be brave.

You make the first move.

When you go back into the Hard Deck, you notice that Bob seems quieter than usual, and you guess that he saw the hug, the friendly kiss between you and Rooster. You guess that he is drawing incorrect conclusions about what he thinks he saw, and you hate to think of him suffering needlessly.

You sidle up to him, and you feel another wave of tenderness towards the man when he turns to look at you—still with that soft smile on his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes despite what he must be thinking.

“It’s too noisy in here,” you say close to his ear. “I was going to take a walk on the beach. Do you want to join me?”

The hope in his eyes turns blatant. “Really?”

“Yeah. You wanna go? C’mon.” You don’t give him a chance to stammer his way out of it; you thread your arm through his and tug him towards the door, and he follows you without any resistance.

You catch Rooster’s eye, then Nat’s as you leave. The former tips you a knowing wink. The latter gives you a nod, and she lifts her glass in a salute.

You don’t release him until you’re at the water’s edge, and you bend down to untie your sneakers and peel out of your socks. He hesitates a beat then joins you, and he rolls up the pants to his uniform so that his shins are bare.

The two of you walk along the shore in silence for a bit. It’s one of the things you like best about Bob—how he lacks the braggadocio to always talk, to always fill up every bit of silence with the sound of his own voice. You know he’s perhaps more shy than the average person, but he doesn’t seem undone by it. He seems comfortable just to be himself: quieter than most, willing to sit back and watch.

Case in point: you hold your shoes and socks in one hand, and you take his hand with your free one. Maybe he’s nervous, but his palm is warm and dry, not sweaty or twitchy. If he’s nervous, it’s not obvious.

And he breaks the silence, after a while.

“Growing up in the Midwest, I never even saw the ocean until I enlisted,” he says.

“Same,” you reply. “I mean, growing up in Texas, we went to Galveston a few times, but that was technically the Gulf, not the ocean.”

“You like it?”

You feel the water lapping around your ankles, the give of the sand underneath your soles. “I do,” you admit. “There’s something really peaceful about it, and I love poking around at low tide and looking for sea glass.”

He glances at you, and you can hear the teasing in his voice when he replies, “I’m gonna tell Hangman that his cousin only visits him because he’s stationed along the coast.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you even realize you’re saying them. “Maybe I only visit Jake because I like one of his coworkers.”

The light-hearted feeling of the moment deflates; Bob goes silent. He takes a beat to reply, and when he does, his voice sounds strained.

“Bradley.” It comes out curt, two quick syllables. A statement, not a question.

You shake your head, let out a grumble of disagreement. Up ahead, you can see the outline of a lifeguard station, painted white and rising ghostly out of the night. You want to sit with him and finally talk with him, so you tug his hand and lead him there. The two of you sit on the steps, side by side, hips touching and facing the ocean.

“Not Bradley,” you tell him as you pick up the thread of the conversation.

“I saw you tonight—”

You shake your head again, cut him off. “He wanted to talk to me,” you tell Bob. “About you.”

You feel him go rigid beside you, and he huffs out a frustrated breath. If there was more light, you’d see the furious blush that breaks out across his face, but it’s dark enough that you can only guess at his embarrassment.

And now that you’ve opened the Pandora’s box, you can hardly take it back, so you plunge forward. Usually confident, you’re glad for the darkness too—you hope it hides your shaky hands, your inability to turn and meet his eyeline.

“I think you’re great, Bobby. Honestly. I thought you were handsome the moment I met you, but then I got to know you, and you’re quiet but you’re funny and sweet, and I was giving all these signs that I was into you, but nothing…I mean, I like you a lot and it’s just…” You trail off, lose your words like an idiot. You hadn’t enough time to rehearse this in your head; you just grabbed him at the Hard Deck and dragged him out here, and now you’re fumbling it completely. You drop your head and swipe your sweaty palms along the sides of your shorts, and you take a deep breath—

You hear his soft “hey,” and then a split second later you feel his warm hand on your face, tilting your head up and turning you to face him, but nothing on earth could prepare you for the way Bob Floyd kisses: gentle but firm, only a bit hesitant. His lips are soft, and he breathes out a quiet groan when you reach up and lay your own hand along the side of his neck.

Your thoughts go fuzzy. Your concentration—all the words you were fumbling to say—is shot, but when you try to break the kiss to finish what you were saying, Bob shakes his head faintly and mumbles against you lips.

“I know,” he says, and you can hear his accent breaking through. “I know, honey. Me too.”

Then he kisses you again, firmer this time, and a moment later, when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you open yourself to him, allow him to taste you. You taste him too, and Bob Floyd tastes like the grenadine-laced Coke he nurses each night at the Hard Deck, never much of a drinker even on the rowdiest night.

If nothing could prepare you for the way he kisses, then certainly nothing could prepare you for how sweetly dominant he is, how perfectly he walks the line between gentlemanly and not. Your clumsy confession must have given him the wherewithal to take charge, and you’re surprised when he puts a hand on your waist and gently urges you to turn towards him…then how he just as gently urges you to climb onto his lap.

It doesn’t take much urging, you find. You’ve been ravenous for months for this exact moment, and you had thought it’d never come. You break away long enough to study his face—this close, and with the faint light of the half-moon in the sky above you, you can see his wide blue eyes, his parted lips as he gazes back at you. You don’t see any hesitancy in his expression at all, but then he breathes out, “please, honey” and he squeezes your waist, so you clamber onto him with no grace whatsoever, but neither of you care because the moment you’re settled on him, you bend your head to kiss him again.

As it turns out, maybe Bob was just as ravenous for this moment too. He puts his other hand on your waist too, draws you closer to him, and you can feel the nudge and brush of his growing erection against your inner thigh. He makes a strangled, pained sort of groan in the back of his throat the first time you touch him there, and his hands spasm on your waist, grip you tighter before he schools himself and apologizes.

You break the kiss, slow the moment down. You cup his face between your palms and hold him steady, tilt his face up towards yours.

“Bobby, why didn’t you ever say anything?” you whisper.

He shakes his head against your hold and offers you a rueful grin. “Didn’t think you were interested.”

You snort and press a light kiss to his forehead, then another few to his cheeks, the tip of his nose. You can feel how flushed he is under your lips.

“You think I just randomly hang back at parties to help the host clean up?” you tease. You shift your head, whisper the words in his ear, and you note how he squirms under you. He’s growing harder, even at your playful kisses.

“Just thought…ah, just thought y-you were bein’ nice.” His accent comes out stronger, and his hands squeeze you tighter again before he loosens his grip. “You’re always so…so nice to everyone.”

“I’m nicest to you,” you point out. You kiss a trail along the line of his neck, and he tilts his head to grant you the space. At his pulse point, you can feel his heartbeat thundering away there, so you bare your teeth and nip him—not enough to hurt or even sting, but he groans out “shit, honey” and wraps a strong arm around your waist, hauls you right up against where he’s straining against his uniform for you. His other hand finds the back of your neck, and he draws you to him, kisses you breathless as he guides you against him, sets a steady, rocking motion against him.

It's too much: the way his clothed erection hits you just right, how he pushes you back and forth, over and over, until you are so wet that you’re certain you’ve soaked through your panties and your shorts. Everything feels sensitive, swollen, but he keeps guiding you, lifts his own hips in time to the rhythm he sets. It’s too much but it’s not nearly enough, and you wish you’d known how this entire evening was going to unravel because you would have just taken him home instead—

“This good?” he asks. His face is tucked against your neck; you’re a fraction higher than him, perched in his lap, and he works his mouth almost lazily against your neck, your throat, the underside of your jaw. He has one arm around your waist, holding you tight to him, but his other hand settles against your ass, kneads you there, digs his fingertips into the fat of your ass like he wants to own you.

You start to make a joke about being surprised to find he’s an ass man, but then he dips his head, works an open-mouthed kiss right where the swell of your breasts begin. You whine at the sensation and thread your fingers through his hair. You hold him there, and the desire coursing through you—the sharp ache between your thighs, the prickly-hot flush across your skin—makes you feel fuzzy, light-headed. You remember he asked you a question, so you answer him, nod hard and mumble yes, he’s making you feel good, he’s making you feel amazing, but what about him?

“Don’t worry about me.” He nips at your collarbone, runs his tongue along the line of it, dips his tongue into the divot at the base of your throat. “Wanna make you come, honey.”

Hearing those words come from his mouth makes your desire rachet up higher, hotter. You grip his hair harder, whine out his name, but then he adds, “you gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

There’s no way he could have known of your praise kink, so it’s just a lucky guess, but the unexpected phrase—my good girl…fuck if it doesn’t make you cock-drunk and stupid. No other guy really ever cracked the code of that kink for you. A few had made half-hearted attempts when you mentioned it, but Bob Floyd stumbles over it immediately, and your mind goes blissfully blank: yes, you want to be his good girl. Yes, you want to come for him. Whatever he wants. Anything he wants. Everything he wants.

You let go of your hold on his hair, and you cup his face again, tilt his head up so you can kiss him. “Yes,” you whisper just before you slot your mouth over his, push your tongue against his, kiss him so deeply that you’re sharing the same breath, mapping the inside of his mouth with your tongue, memorizing every bit of him you can. Yes, yes. Yes to all of it.

Mind blank, your pleasure overtakes you: you feel the heat and friction from where he sets you grinding against him, you feel the bulge of his cock hitting you perfectly, and every bit of him—his subtle cologne, the soft feel of his hair, the quiet little groans he makes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you—pushes you close to the edge. You teeter there, you ride him faster, the seam of your shorts pressing deliciously against your swollen clit, but it’s his words that push you over. His quietly domineering orders.

“Come for me,” he whispers, and it’s a harsh, punched-out sound that makes your stomach swoop when you hear it. “My good, sweet girl. Come for me.”

Your orgasm breaks around you like a wave, and Bob releases his hold on your ass to draw you closer to him, let you ride it out as you shudder against him. Both arms wrapped around your waist as pleasure sparks outward from your core, travels up your spine and courses through your limbs until your head is swimming and he’s tucking you against him.

“That’s it,” he whispers into your hair. “Good girl. So fucking good for me.”

And all you can respond with is yes, yes. Only for you, Bobby.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 month

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Hotter Than Texas | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: I'm so excited that y'all loved the first part! Thanks for your enthusiasm, you rock <3

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

WC: 2000+

Part I | Masterlist

“I’m getting hungry.”

Bradley glances at the restaurant sign as he passes it on the interstate, suppressing a sigh. He usually skips lunch on long trips so he can arrive at his destination before nightfall. “I’ll get off at the next exit,” he says.

“Will you?” you exclaim excitedly, as though he’s offered to catch and cook your next meal himself.

Bradley chuckles mildly. “Well, I’m not going to let you starve.”

“You’re so sweet,” you reply, and Bradley eyes you with a grin because he’s about eighty percent certain you’re being facetious.

“What’re are you in the mood for?” he asks as he gets on the off-ramp.

“Something greasy and very bad for my heart.”

Bradley lets out a small laugh. What’s bad for his heart is you sitting next to him being all cute for the next twenty hours straight.

He pulls into the lot of a little diner just off the highway and parks his car while you flip down your sun visor to glance at your reflection in the mirror. “How do I look?” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Bradley tries not to examine you directly and instead just glances in your vicinity. “Better than the truckers, I bet,” he comments, noticing the row of semis at the back of the lot.

You give him an unimpressed look and then push open your door. “I sure hope they have French toast.”

“I thought you wanted something greasy,” Bradley says, walking around the front of the Bronco to join you.

“I want options,” you state, marching forth toward the front doors.

Bradley strides ahead and pulls the door open for you. He can’t say he isn’t looking forward to having a sit-down meal with you, like it’s a date or something. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s almost thrilled at the prospect of the other patrons assuming the two of you are a couple.

You walk through the open door and Bradley stalls for a moment, trying to clear his head. He shouldn’t even be thinking about that sort of nonsense. He and Hangman have enough issues without adding Bradley’s crush on his baby sister to the mix. They’ve just begun to mend their bumpy – to say the least – relationship, and Jake would sure as shit not appreciate his colleague developing feelings for his younger sibling.

“You comin’, sugar?” you call from inside.

Bradley, who’s clearly taken too long of a beat, glances at you in a bit of a daze. He’s sure you just called him ‘sugar’ and that has utterly thrown him. He enters after you and gives the hostess a look that he hopes might resemble a polite smile. But his face feels hot and numb at the same time, so he can’t be sure.

…

“I think I’ll get the pancakes,” you muse, flipping through the menu leisurely.

Bradley smiles at you when you’re not looking. “Want to share some things?”

You glance up at him happily. “Can we?”

Bradley chuckles. “Why not? I could go for a pancake. What else should we get?”

Your eyes light up and you instantly refer back to the menu. “Fried pickles.”

Bradley cringes but he’s still amused. “Those’ll go great with the pancakes.”

“I agree,” you respond without a hint of sarcasm. “Chili?” you continue. “Or tacos?”

“Why not both?” Bradley shrugs.

You give him a serious look. “That’s just crazy talk.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re right, what was I thinking?”

“I sort of want some pie, though.”

Bradley closes his menu and leans forward into the table. “I’ve already thought of that,” he mutters under his breath, as though he’s about to divulge a secret. You lean in too, your bright eyes blinking up at him eagerly. “We’ll get one for the road,” he whispers.

You gasp. “You’re a genius!”

Bradley chuckles, leaning back in his seat proudly. “I won’t deny that.”

…

When the server arrives to take your orders, you let Bradley do the talking, but chime in with little requests now and again; onions on the home fries, maple syrup for the bacon, sour cream in the chili. And Bradley can’t help but delight in the fact that, every time you think of something, you tap his hand that's resting on the table, ‘oohing’ with excitement.

Bradley eyes you with a smile once the server departs. “Maple syrup for the bacon?”

You wave a hand at him. “You’ll see.”

Bradley shakes his head with a smirk. “Not on my bacon.”

“Yeah, my brother warned me that you’re a bit of a square.”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Your brother said what?”

You grin at him mischievously. “Don’t worry, I can make up my own mind.”

“Your brother warned me that you’re a bully,” Bradley replies, his smile only getting wider. “And, coming from Hangman, that’s saying something.”

You let out a peal of laughter so exuberant that several faces turn to look in your direction.

“Don’t worry,” he adds when your laughter partially subsides. “I can make up my own mind.”

“And?” you ask with soaring eyebrows. “Have you?”

Bradley hesitates for a moment and then decides to respond in a cheeky manner to avoid any awkwardness. “Not just yet,” he says with a chuckle.

You reach out and lightly smack his forearm. “Stop!”

“I’m joking,” Bradley concedes, grabbing your hand before you can strike him again. “It’s not like you’ve ever hit me to get your way,” he says pointedly.

You shake your head with a smirk and withdraw your hand.

…

“Everything was delicious,” you gush to the waitress as she clears the table. “We had such a wonderful time!”

“Glad to hear that, dear,” the waitress gives you a smile and then winks at Bradley, as though she’s in on some scheme with him.

Bradley furrows his eyebrows in amusement as she walks away and then digs into his pocket for his wallet. “My treat,” he says when you reach for your purse.

“No way!” you exclaim. “You’re already giving me a ride. The least I could do is feed you.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to be your ride.”

“I insist,” you declare.

“I insist harder,” Bradley presses, laying down several bills onto the receipt tray.

You gaze at him pensively and finally slide your wallet back into your purse. “So, you’re stubborn,” you note.

“So, you’re observant,” he remarks.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Thanks for lunch, Rooster.”

…

Back on the road, you offer Bradley a turn with the radio, muttering something about not wanting to be a bully by hogging the music. He can tell you’ve said it in jest, but he still wants to make sure he hasn’t offended you.

“You know I don’t think you’re a bully, right?” he says, glancing between your face and the road several times.

You eye him playfully. “Well, give it a minute.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s getting dark,” he notes after a little while. He was hoping to get farther on the first day, but the prospect of maybe spending an extra day with you on the road doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as it might have in the morning. “Want to stop for the night?”

“I can drive if you want,” you offer.

Naturally, Bradley overthinks your response. He wonders if maybe you’ve had enough of him and would prefer to get to Texas as soon as possible. “No, no,” he responds. “I can drive. I just thought you might be tired.”

“From sitting?” you quip.

Bradley gives you a flat look. “It’s been a long day.”

You shrug. “It flew by.”

That sets his mind at ease somewhat. A day doesn’t fly by unless you’re having a good time. “I think we should stop,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond, “let’s stop.”

…

“You two lovebirds want the mountain or city view?” the hotel’s front desk clerk enquires with a beam.

Bradley is about to explain that the two of you will, in fact, require separate rooms because you are the absolute opposite of lovebirds, when you respond with, “Mountain, please.”

The clerk hands you a key and Bradley follows you down the hall mutely, with both of your suitcases in tow. He’s not about to dispute your decision to share a room, despite knowing that it’s exactly what he swore he’d avoid doing the moment he laid eyes on you.

You open the door and enter, holding it open for Bradley so that he can bring in the luggage. He sets it down gingerly by the door and straightens his back to look around. The are two double beds against the wall and a large window with a spectacular view of the Santa Catalina range.

You flop down on one of the beds with a contented sigh. “You know what, darlin’? I am tired.”

Bradley watches you climb further up the bed and rest your head on one of the pillows. He’s used to you calling him all sorts of terms of endearment at this point, but it still warms his heart each and every time you do. “No dinner tonight, sweetheart?” he responds, adopting your speaking style on a trial basis.

You lift your head from the pillow. “Let’s just order in?”

You seem unfazed by the fact that Bradley just called you sweetheart. Meanwhile, he’s nearly thrown up from the anxiety it’s caused him. He resolves not to call you that – or any other overly-friendly name – ever again. “Yeah, we can do that,” he responds casually. “Pizza?”

You nod. “With barbeque chicken.”

“You got it.”

…

“Did you always want to be an aviator?” you ask, taking a bit of pizza while dusting crumbs off the bedspread.

The two of you are sitting cross-legged atop one of the beds with the open pizza box between you. Bradley grabs another slice. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to get into specifics, because that means being vulnerable, a state which Bradley does not much enjoy.

“Interesting.”

“What about you?” he asks. “What are you studying?”

“Math.”

Bradley nearly chokes. For some reason, he expected something less cerebral. “Are you going to be an accountant, or something?” he asks with a smirk.

You frown slightly. “I sure hope not.”

“Well, what do you want to be?”

“A good person,” you respond thoughtfully.

Bradley lowers his pizza and stares at you. “You are a good person,” he says hoarsely.

You shrug. “I have my days.”

“I mean, I don’t know you very well,” Bradley reasons. “But you seem great. Much better than your brother.”

You laugh and lower your gaze. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?” you say warmly.

Bradley can feel his heart pounding like a double bass drum. The only sweetheart in this room is you and he can hardly keep that to himself. To think that you might be doubting your own integrity is affecting Bradley on a near-physical level. “You’re a good person. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an idiot,” he states.

You smile, still looking downward. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

You place your half-eaten slice of pizza back into the box and fall back into the pillows, sighing dramatically. “I’m stuffed!”

Bradley, who’s just taken his final bite, mutters around the crust in his mouth. “Me too.” He closes the pizza box and picks it up to set it onto the floor by the bed. Then, he moves to the other bed and lies down on his back with a weary exhale.

“Hey, Rooster,” you call from your bed.

“Hmm?”

“Are you a good pilot?”

Bradley turns onto his side to face you. “I think so.”

“My brother said you were just alright,” you say.

Bradley snorts and throws a pillow at you. You laugh and then stuff the pillow in between your knees. “Joke’s on you, I’m keeping this.”

Bradley adjusts his second pillow under his head and mutters, “You’re welcome.”

“Tomorrow you can choose what you want to listen to,” you say.

Bradley chuckles. What he wants to listen to more than anything is probably you.

“Hey, Rooster,” you say quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Is there any pie left?”

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments shortly!

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rrenzwrld · 5 months

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sound of my heart

ony x black reader

first ony piece! i literally just wrote what came to my mind so i’m not sure what’s happening, gets toxic at the end? idk but i wanna write for him more just not anything this…weird. but if you want more of this specific thing, lmk!

the sound of my heart calls out to you, are you listening?

“i’ll pick you up at 8, okay? what do you wanna eat so i can have it when i get you.”

“it doesn’t matter. you know i’ll eat anything.” you heard ony suck his teeth over the phone.

“y/n. you do this all the time.”

“and i’m gonna tell you the same thing, all the time.” you giggled.

“whatever man, i’ll pick you up some tacos or something. just be ready when i get there, aight?”

“mhm.” and with that you hung up to start putting on some decent clothes.

you went to your closet and put on a white tshirt, forest green cargo pants, your new balance, and a gray hoodie. you topped off the outfit with a navy blue hat ony gave you with a tote bag. by the time you got yourself together, ony had texted you saying he was outside of your dorm.

“you meeting ony?” your roommate, jadeja knew by this time that whenever you put something other than sweats and a beanie on, you were probably going to see your boyfriend, ony.

“yeah, i’ll be back though. i’ll text you if i stay out later than planned.”

“okay~have fun!” she winked which made you roll your eyes before going downstairs.

when you got outside, ony was on his phone until he looked up and saw you. a smile instantly appeared on his face as he outstretched his arms to you for a nearly bonecrushing hug.

“i missed you so fuckin much.”

“i can tell.” you giggled while your arms were wrapped around his torso. you didn’t see ony as much anymore just because of all the away games he’s been on. whenever he was on campus, he tried to use those days to spend time with you even if it wasn’t a lot.

“i thought you brought food.” you pouted slightly.

“damn, you worried about the food than me.” he laughed but you felt bad immediately and he saw that. “you know i’m just fuckin with you. it’s in the car.”

once the two of you got to riding, you stopped somewhere to eat your food.

“so, where we going?”

“just a lil party jalen’s throwing. wanted to pop out for him for a lil bit then we can leave.” he knew how much you really didn’t like parties but you didn’t mind it if he was around.

are you listening?

“i would’ve dressed better if i knew you wanted to go to a party—“

“nah you look good. you’re fine,” he looked at you and raised his hand to turn your face towards his. “you look beautiful tonight.”

“liar.” ony knew his effect on you and you knew that he did. he knew what to say to get something out of you and it was true, to him you were the most beautiful girl in the world but the way he said it could make you pool up right in front of him. “we’re nearly dressed the same.”

“don’t care.” ony started up the car and took one last sip of his soda.

“hm?” you heard him, you just wanted to see if he would repeat it.

he shook his head and started driving again.

“nothing.”

you and ony pulled up to the party and he was immediately bombarded by all kinds of people. you didn’t know what to do so you tried to stick by as close as possible. but with the type of person your boyfriend was, you had to let him be the social butterfly that he was. so while he was chatting it up with everyone in the room, you went in the kitchen to pour yourself a drink and stand around with others who didn’t wanna be in the midst of all the commotion. you did recognize some people from your class so you got to talking with some of them just to pass time but you could tell they were getting high and having their own fun away from everyone else.

“so you ony’s girl?” you nodded as you watched the boy take another hit of the blunt in his hand. “you cute. why don’t i ever see you around?” you shrugged, not really feeling the talking anymore. you just wondered where your boyfriend was.

“tamron leave that girl alone. she don’t wanna talk to you and you know how that man get about his bitches.” another girl, lydia, chimed in.

“see ain’t body even talking about allat. i just asked her a question,” tamron turned to you again after addressing what lydia told him. “anyways, why don’t i see you around? you don’t come out like that or something?”

“nah i just stay to myself, don’t go out often.”

“you too pretty to be staying in the house all the time.” tamron was gazing into you like he wanted to eat you or something and admittedly, you were uncomfortable but you knew that the weed and maybe the liquor was making it hard for tamron to notice that.

are you listening?

but before you could come up with your next thought, you saw ony move through the crowd to get to you and you were relieved.

“i hope yall not over here fuckin with my girl.” tamron looked at ony and smiled as if he wasn’t the main one.

“nigga ain’t nobody fucking with your girl—“

“nah tamron letting that blunt get to his head.” tamron looked at lydia and mean mugged her.

“snitch.” he mumbled.

“anyways, we finna leave. y/n, c’mon.” he walked over to you and gently grabbed your wrist, pulling you up off the couch. for ony to be moving this fast after seeming to be having fun, you wondered how exactly he was feeling. on the way out the door, ony said his goodbyes and of course people wanted him to stay but he was set on nearly dragging you behind him. something was weird about how ony was handling you so you stopped once the two of you got near the car.

“the fuck you stopping for? i said c’mon.” he still had a hold on your wrist.

“you been drinking?” ony couldn’t look you in your eyes so you had an answer. “answer me please.”

“yeah, few shots. why?” you could hear the slight slurring in his voice and he couldn’t stay still.

“i’m not bout to let you drink and drive. gimme the keys.” you held out your hand expecting the car keys but he just looked at your hand.

“i’m good.”

“no, ony. gimme the keys.”

“y/n..y/n,” ony laughed softly. “i’m good. promise.” you knew he was lying but he turned away from you and went to the driver’s side of the car.

“gimme the fucking keys! i’m not bout to let you drive with liquor in your system.” you never raised your voice especially at your boyfriend, but you had no choice if you wanted him to listen to you.

“i only had a few shots, that’s it. leave it alone, i’m driving, this my shit. get in the car, y/n.” he was steady stumbling and slurring.

“dumb ass can barely stand up straight,” you walked around to ony and snatched the keys from him. “gimme them keys nigga.” you pushed him out the way and got in the car.

“who the fuck you pushin…” while he was mumbling a bunch of nothing, he went around to the passenger side and got in. the ride back to ony’s apartment was quiet and tense. even though you knew he was drunk and high, the way the combination made him treat you wasn’t what you were used to.

when you finally helped him get into his room, you took off his jacket, shirt, and jeans before pulling a blanket over him. you didn’t have any clothes or anything to stay over so you called an uber back to your dorm and texted you roommate to let her know you were on the way in.

the next morning, you had a small conversation with ony before falling back asleep. when you woke up later in the afternoon, you had some missed calls and a notification from instagram. you checked it and recognized the account as the dude that was trying to talk to you at the party. you ignored it and got up out of bed. you noticed jadeja wasn’t there even thought it was a saturday but you didn’t worry too much after you texted to make sure she was okay.

although you couldn’t really take ony right now, that didn’t stop him from him letting you know he was outside your dorm. you rolled your eyes before getting up and going down to get him and brought him back to your room.

“why you being weird?” you sighed heavily while sitting down in your swivel chair by your desk.

“i’m not, i told you that. i’m just tired.” ony checked his phone.

“you been sleep since 9:30. it’s 2 o’clock right now.” you didn’t mean to sleep that long. “what happened last night?”

“nothing.” even though it made you feel weird, you felt like it wasn’t important enough to address. it wasn’t like he hit you or anything, you just knew it was what was in his system controlling him…which happened often when he got into a specific element.

“you sure?” you nodded. “positive?” you nodded again. ony did feel like something was off but he also knew you had a problem with communicating because you hated conflict if there was any.

are you listening?

“why are you here?” he looked you like you were crazy.

“fuck you mean why i’m here? i came to see what the issue was with you.”

“there’s no issue.” ony shrugged.

“sooo, can i get a hug or something?” no matter the energy, ony just wanted to be around you because he knew he rarely got to see you nowadays.

you got up and wrapped your arms around his waist but something was off. instead of smelling his natural musk or the cologne he’d use all the time, you inhaled a sweeter scent on him as if it was a smell another woman would use. but because you didn’t like conflict, you never said anything.

“i love you.” ony pressed his lips up against your cheek and placed more kisses all over you face, making you giggle. “so much. you love me?”

“of course i love you. always.”

after a few hours ony left and deja came back soon after that with a mutual friend, taylor. deja had been living with you since freshman year so she could tell something was up with your energy so you couldn’t get past telling her your concerns.

“you smelled some other bitch shit on him? oh nah, tell him!”

“deja, that’s dumb. y’know she not gon say nothing to that man and plus, why would he admit to another girl perfume on him?” your friend, taylor, was right. if he wouldn’t admit to it anyway, why waste time by asking? but you also didn’t wanna jump to conclusions and the only way to not do that was to get information straight from the source.

“maybe it was a sister, cousin or something.” you made an excuse

“she got a point…if he had another girl in his space, you have the right to know! and why would his family be down here and you not know? they live 5 hours away.”

“oh don’t worry bout it, texting the nigga right now…” you looked over and saw deja with your phone and tapping away on it.

“deja what the fuck!” you snatched it from her to make sure nothing was sent but the damage was done.

taylor covered her mouth, stiffling her laughs. “you sent it?? he coming over here?”

“nah, we’ll see when he text back.” luckily the message was still on delivered so he hasn’t seen it yet. “you need to learn how to open your mouth when it comes to these niggas. that’s why you keep running into problem after problem. shit, knock them in the head if you need to, they’ll get it.” while you knew deja was right and you and your boyfriend had multiple problems and misunderstandings when it came to communicating, it wasn’t in you to try to start things on your own. but this time and with a little push, you had no choice

are you…listening?

#aot #aot x reader #black reader #aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #college athlete au #college au

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pricesbeltbuckle · 3 months

Note

Hey love, it's me again! *hehehe*

How would TF141 react to finding out that their girlfriend comes from old money and is filthy rich and her parents are hell-bent on getting her married off to some other old money dude whom she does not like.

Money problems - 141

Pariring: 141 x Rich!Fem Reader

Warnings: Violence?,Marriage arrangements,Fluff

John Price:

Well First it was the money…How the HELL did he not know?

He always saw you in designer, you always had your nails done and hair done, people always gave you looks in public and whispered.

And you didn’t really go out to eat unless the place was practically empty.

So when he found out to say he was shocked was an understatement he was astonished. But you then had to introduce him to your hell hole family that you hated.

He dressed his nicest and acted the exact way you told him to but your family seemed so bored and unimpressed.

“Right so…This is only temporary because we know a man who has agreed to marry you-” Your mom spoke up and you rolled your eyes tucking your tongue under your lip and Price knew that look he just sat there and let them have it. “I’m not getting married to some stuck-up rich boy jesus christ! Every time I visit we have this conversation.” Your mom tried to reason with you, “Well we wouldn’t if you had just found a nice man-” You cut her off and practically screamed at her. “I DID HE’S RIGHT THERE!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NOT SEE? SURE HE MAY NOT HAVE A MILLION DOLLARS LAYING AROUND-” “Listen ma’am I understand you want your daughter to marry someone with your kind of wealth but rest assured I can take perfect care of her-” You glared at John and he closed his mouth and let you talk. “See my point is I’m happy, how old is he?” “56.” “EXCUSE ME??” You spit your wine back into your glass and John held your hand under the table as he stood up with you.

“Odd, because I actually have a huge announcement.” And that's the story of how he proposed. In front of your pissed off parents and they were even more pissed when you said yes. But when your father got too old and had to pass down the family business to him? Man the look on his face was worth mass amounts of money.

What pissed him off the most is the business has never made so much money until John ran it. And you loved every bit of his sour expressions and dirty looks.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

So it was pretty hard to keep any secret from Johnny, not that he was invasive or over-jealous. No not at all it’s just because he’s so easy to talk to and he’s caring.

So when you told him about your family and money he wasn’t too shocked I mean he noticed the designer stuff and the people whispering, he absolutely adored you though and didn’t wanna make a scene on it.

But when you practically dragged him to a suit store and then made him meet your parents he was shitting his pants.

You all went out to a fancy dinner and he shook your fathers hand and your mother as well but they didn’t seem impressed then you all sat down and looked over the menu.

“So, we found you a man. 56, he’s agreed to marry you.” John looked up from the menu, shocked as he gave you a side-eye of worry. “What? Absolutely not. I took time out of my day to introduce you to my boyfriend who by the way I LOVE. I shouldn’t have even bothered coming, I knew this would happen!”

John watched you yell at your parents and fight back and forth until he was snapped back into reality. “SO WHAT IF HE’S NOT RICH HE’LL TAKE OVER YOUR FUCKING BUISSNESS ONE DAY!!” And he cleared his throat and grabbed your hand under the table. “Well uhm…Nice meeting everyone here. I think I’ll take my leave with my lovely girlfriend.” And he waved them an awkward goodbye as he took you into the car, opening your car door for you and making sure you were settled as he got into the driver seat and put the car in drive.

“Let me guess..Taco bell and your favorite movie?” “Please. I can’t stand my family.” Tears streamed down your face but he rubbed your thigh and comforted you and made sure you were okay.

And to your word, he did end up running that company about 7 years later.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

Now he knew you were loaded, he just put two and two together and he didn’t care, even if you didn’t have any money he’d still love you the exact same.

So that being said, when you guys had a movie night and your mom called you and you put her on speaker he decided to listen in while he paused the movie.

“Hi mom, what's up?” “Hey sweetie! I have some amazing news!” You rolled your eyes and looked at Kyle but he seemed interested. “What? What is it?” “Well…We found you a husband! He’s 54 and he owns a very nice business-” Kyle’s jaw dropped and you were speechless. “Not that you’re interested in my life unless it benefits you but I have a husband.” “WHAT? And you didn’t tell us?” Kyle choked on air when you said this and you encouraged him to speak up.

“Hello ma’am…I’m Kyle.” He spoke shyly and nervously and it seems like your mother wasn’t impressed. “Well hello Kyle and what do you do for work?” “Oh nothing special..Military.” Your mother gasped and hung up and Kyle just looked at the phone and then you.

“Marry me?” “What?” “I said, marry me. Your mom thinks we're married so let's get married.” You just shook your head yes as he stood up and put his shoes on. “Where are you-” “A ring, What’s your ring size sweetheart?” “Uhm..I’ll just come with you.” You put on some slippers and followed him outside to the car and went to go get a beautiful ring.

You got married officially around a year later and yes he formally met your family and they got accommodated to him and when he took over the business for your dad the family just put up with him for money.

Your sister being the worst constantly asked but Kyle always declined due to the fact you didn’t like her so he listened to you and didn’t ask questions. He didn’t have a death wish. He loves you.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

He knew about the money, matter of fact he knew your family but did he wanna spoil the fun? Course not.

So when you told him about the money he told you straight up he knew about the money, but since you didn’t mention your family he didn’t either.

But when you mentioned meeting your family he came clean, told you how he was your fathers security before joining the military. You gasped but you didn’t remember him for some odd reason.

But that’s maybe because he lied, he knew your father because he may or may not have been a hitman back in the day..But we’ll get into that later, maybe.

So when you took him to meet your parents he presented himself nice and your father seemed off, but you decided to keep quiet. But then your mother started speaking about marriage

“Ah, Sucks she’s already married to me.” “WHAT? IS THIS TRUE?” You nodded and showed your ring to her and he showed his wedding band like a trophy.

Was it maybe set up because you knew your parents would go nuts? Yeah but did you guys actually get married a year later? Yeah!

You and Ghost did eventually take over the company but you do most of the work due to his deployments but whenever he’s home he does as much as he can and he does whatever you ask of him.

Did it now come to light about him being your fathers hitman? No. He never told you and neither did your father.

Ghost didn’t wanna see his sweet angel worry about old problems that were already taken care of.

He loved how innocent you were, he didn’t wanna ruin it.

I loved this so much, your requests always EATTTTT🙈!!

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months

Text

DRABBLE: THEY’RE YOUR BLIND V-DAY DATE ❤️🍷💕 (CROSSOVER ANIME) (18+) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: Got another something for V-Day for y’all. I decided to do one for multiple anime characters cuz I’m a slut for all them 2D characters & couldn’t decide on one specific show lol. Plus it sounded fun! And important disclaimers I’ll just make a note of before the actual Drabble. I hope y’all enjoy! ☺️🥰 -Jazz

********

LEVI ACKERMAN (AOT)

The first night, you’re nervous, to say the least, especially when Hange warns you about his appearance.

“Why?” you had asked over margaritas and tacos, already perplexed and slightly unnerved by her warning. “Is he really ugly or something?”

Hange, sitting across from you in her glasses with her locks of long, chestnut brown hair cascading down her shoulders, shook her head. “No, no, my dear!” she immediately protested. “He’s actually quite handsome despite the broody thing. But he does have some scars from a mission gone wrong at his job and he’s blind in one eye.” She took a sip of her margarita as if to soften the next blow. “And he’s missing a leg,” she finished.

You were taken aback to say the least, but you didn’t let that stop you. You aren’t prejudice and you refused to let that stop you from at least giving Hange’s friend a chance. Apparently, Levi has been a firefighter for a couple of years and has recently broken up with a longtime girlfriend, so Hange figured he could get back into the dating pool and realize that there are great girls out there starting with you!

So the weekend of Valentine’s Day, Hange texts you the name of the restaurant and you take an Uber there after spending the entire day doing your hair, picking out an outfit, and giving yourself a makeover. You decided on a soft glam look as this is the first time you’re meeting the guy and a pretty, red dress that hugs your frame and zips in the back.

When you get of the Uber in front of the quaint and low-key yet romantic restaurant, you take a table near the doo so it’ll be easier to see Levi walk in and flag him down. You still have no idea what he looks like, only that he’ll be wearing a black trench coat, he’s tall, and he has a large scar going over his eye. “His team calls him Scar, apparently,” Hange laughed. “It helps that he has a smooth, deep voice too!”

You admit that you were curious to see him and hear that “smooth, deep” voice she told you about. So you sit and order a glass of wine, waiting for his arrival as you stare out at the passing cars and people…only he never comes. You wait and you wait and you wait, but he never shows his face. You call Hange, thinking maybe you have the wrong restaurant or time or day, but all is correct. You think that maybe he’s in traffic or something came up, but Hange never calls to tell you either.

When your appetizer comes and the candle sitting in the middle of the table begins to melt, you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You’ve been stood up. The realization hits you like a brick to the face. Quickly, you order the check and a box for your food pay the waiter before running out of the restaurant in tears. You feel stupid. Wasteful. Foolish in your pretty dress and heels.

Hange comes over to see you with the quickness when you tell her that night, ice cream and face masks in tow. “I can’t believe him!” she says, enraged, with a sheet mask on her face. “He told me he’d be there and then he doesn’t show up? Who does he think he is? Why, I’m gonna give that man a piece of my–“

“Don’t Hange,” you sigh, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. “Just leave it be. He probably just changed his mind or wasn’t ready.” You are ready to move on and forget it, but the universe doesn’t let you. A week later while at work of all places, you get an unknown call. Thinking it’s one of those scammers, you give a sharp “hello”.

“Uh…hi,” a smooth, deep, velvety voice replies. “This is Levi, Hange’s friend. This is Y/N, correct?” You heart drops into your ass and it takes a moment for you to reply. “Uh, y-yeah,” you answer. “Yeah, this is her. You’re Hange’s friend? Did you get my number from her?”

“I had to,” Levi replies, his voice making your stomach do flips. “I’m sorry if that’s weird, but I just…” He pauses, sighing. “I had to talk to you,” he finishes, sounding completely beaten. “I’m so sorry for not coming last week. I was so afraid for you to see me because of my appearance. I was so sure you'd find me unattractive and not like what you see. I’m very insecure in that and I let it get the best of me, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that. Hange already went up my ass about it.”

You softly giggle, knowing she would. "So, if you don’t despise me too much and you’re willing, can we meet up for dinner this Friday night if you’re free?” He sounds hopeful and slightly afraid. You don’t know why you say yes, but you do and you make plans to meet for ramen on Friday. When the day comes, you wear a more casual outfit–-a pretty cashmere sweater, jeans, and some boots––but still style your hair and makeup to look presentable. ‘Second time’s a charm, I guess,’ you think.

It’s a dry, cool night so you wait outside the restaurant for Levi to arrive, texting him that you’re there prior to your arrival. Ten minutes into waiting, you think he isn’t going to show and that he duped you again, but then your phone rings. Your heart leaps at the sight of his caller ID and you answer. “Hello?” you answer, noticing how breathless you sound.

“Look up,” Levi says and you do, seeing him standing before you across the street under a streetlight. The soft light illuminates his features: a sharp jawline and cheekbones, soft, pale skin, one eye the color of a gray ocean, and the other milky where a long scar runs from his eyebrow to his cheek. He walks towards you slowly, his hand on his left leg where his prosthetic is, and finally makes it over to you. He is extremely attractive and smells like toasted vanilla. “You’re Y/N, I take it?” he asks, a small smile on his face.

“And you’re Levi,” you reply, your heart battering against your ribcage. He gives a slight nod, his one eye roaming over your frame. “My God, you’re stunning,” he chuckles as if he can hardly believe it. “Even more than that the first night. I had come, but I never went into the restaurant. I was so intimidated by the way you looked that I just–“

“Stop,” you interrupt, not liking the thought of him standing outside looking into the restaurant window at you, feeling so horrible about his looks. “That was then and this is now. And you’re wrong, by the way.” One of Levi’s eyebrow raises in confusion. “I do like what I see,” you say, your voice soft and shy. “Fo the record, you’re one of the sexiest guys I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The laugh Levi lets out just about fills you with joy and you just about melt before he holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, not so discreetly staring at your ass as he does.

NANAMI KENTO (JJK)

He’s a professor and he’s a blonde is what you’re told by Gojo…but that’s about all he tells you, the asshole.

“You’re asking me to go on a date with a dude I don’t even know and you won’t even tell me what he looks like?” You’re sitting with him at brunch with bottomless mimosas when he runs it by you. You get the feeling he just invited you out with the promise of mimosas, good omelettes, and paying just to toss this at you.

Gojo gives you his big, gigawatt smile as he sits across from you wearing his usual shades. “Trust me, babe! He’s a good and attractive guy! If I wasn’t taken, I’d fuck him myself.” He snorts to himself, shoveling some eggs into his mouth. “But I don’t even think I’m his type.”

From what you gathered at the start of brunch, Kento Nanami is Gojo’s very stoic, very introverted, very lonely friend who is need of a date this upcoming Valentine’s Day. Though intelligent and handsome, Nanami isn’t too good with women and hasn’t been in a romantic relationship is quite some time. “I swear, he’s not an incel,” Gojo swears, one hand on his heart and the other held high. “He loves women! He’s just…awkward.”

You aren’t sure if you like that answer. “What if I meet him and I don’t like him?” you ask, taking a break for you mimosa. “I mean, I’m only agreeing to this because you said you’d pay me.” And Gojo did. He figures you’re the perfect girl––smart, pretty, and funny––to bring Nanami out of his shell. “$50,” he sing-songs. “And if you hate his guts, you'll get another $50, I promise. But give him a chance, Y/N! He needs it!”

To not hear him whine and beg, you roll your eyes and agree. Gojo arranges for you to meet with Nanami at a winter light show in the park that is done every year. It’s the perfect place to meet since it’s romantic and very populated. You dress in your warmest and cutest coat before hurrying to meet Nanami, your boots crunching in the snow. The park is decorated in twinkling lights that line the trees, walkways, and fountains.

You’re so enchanted by the lights that you barely see the slick of ice lining the sidewalk. You misstep and your left foot goes skidding. “Oh, shit!” you gasp as you fall, but you don't feel the ground or the cold snow. You don’t feel anything at all except two warm, strong arms wrapped around you. You look up into the warm eyes of an older man. An older, extremely attractive man with a blonde undercut and wearing a tan wool coat. “Are you alright, miss?” he worriedly asks. His voice is deep yet warm and sweet like honey. You’re so taken by the stranger than you barely notice that he has set you upright. “Um…yeah,” you answer albeit softly.

You blink at him, noticing how tall and well-built he is behind his coat. His hands are strong and capable and you find yourself staring at them even when he shoves them into his pocket. “Nanami?” you hesitantly question. You watch his darker blonde brows furrow in confusion then rise in realization. “You’re Y/N,” he realizes. “Forgive me. Gojo didn’t tell me what you’d look up or what you’d be wearing.”

You think you see his eyes trailing over you, but you can’t focus on it for too long. “That’s okay,” you laugh. “That’s Gojo, for you. How do you know him?” Nanami begins to walk with you to the line at the entrance gate to enter the event, keeping the same slow pace as you. “We went to the same high school and remained friends ever since. How did you meet him?”

“We met through a mutual friend and just clicked,” you explain. “Her name is Shoko.” Recognition crosses Nanami’s face at the name. “Shoko?” he asks, a light flickering in his eyes. “I know her as well. We all went to the same school.”

“What a coincidence!” you giggle, glad to have something to break the ice (other than your fall). “Thank you again for helping me. I know I’m dumb for wearing these things in the snow.” You nod down at your heeled boots to which Nanami only stares at, never smiling. His expression is unreadable and slightly intimidating. But you can tell it’s just awkwardness. Now you see what Gojo meant.

But rather than be unnerved by it, you find yourself wanting to break through it. You want to get to the warm core of this man. “Um…should we walk?” you ask, nodding at the entrance gate. Nanami nods, but looks slightly worried. “Will you be alright?” he asks, still staring at your feet. “You may want to hold onto me.” He offers you his arm, a slight tinge of pink to his cheeks that one could pass off for the cold. Your heart leaps at the chance to touch him, even be near him.

“What a gentleman,” you chuckle. “I didn't think chivalry still existed.” You take his coat sleeve and let him lead you through the entrance into the park’s first trail. A chuckle that makes your stomach flip and your pussy leap leaves Nanami’s mouth. “I wouldn’t say all of that, but thank you. I would just think I’m being a good human being. So Gojo told me about your job. What is that like?”

The park is truly beautiful, decorated head to toe with lights that twinkle and dance. But you’re not focusing on the lights; just Nanami and his conversation. For such a stoic guy, he can really hold a conversation. He tells you all about his job as a professor and his students; what subjects he likes; his life outside of work. He asks you about you and all of your habits, hobbies, and joys. He listens intently, putting them all in his brain’s filing cabinet. You find similarities about each other, including favorite books, movies, and your love for the beach.

The date lasts for an hour and you enjoy every minute of it. You like being around Nanami, enjoying his stale humor and shy smile. More than anything, you like his presence. You like how soft his wool coat feels under your finger. You like how he keeps his arm at reach, even when you release him at times. You like how he keeps the same pace as you, never walking too fast and always straying at your side, his black leather shoes tapping against the concrete. You’re feeling him and you want to let him know that when you finally reach the end of the park where the last attraction, an ice sculptor decorated in lights, stands.

“Wow,” you sigh. “So pretty.”

Nanami stands next to you as you stare up in awe at the attraction. “Yes,” he agrees, though he isn’t looking at the lights. His attention is solely on you. He likes the way the lights illuminate your skin that contrasts with his. He likes the brown of your eyes, so warm and tempting like chocolate. He likes your humor and sweet laugh. He likes you and he isn’t too shy to show it. You can see it when you turn and find him already staring at you, bold and heated.

He is sexy. He is alluring. And you want him. “Nanami?” you shyly ask. His eyebrows raise, acknowledging your question. You turn to him fully and stare up at him through you lashes. “I don’t usually do this, but…would you want to come home with me?” He is silent, staring at you wordlessly, and your stomach flip with discomfort. “For coffee, maybe?” you add.

Nanami doesn’t have to be asked again. To end such a perfect date, you find yourself on your back with Nanami on top of you, looking so handsome above you as he pounds your pussy into the mattress. His big hands pin your thighs apart and up to his broad shoulders, your painted toes and skin contrasting deliciously with his lighter skin. “So pretty,” he groans. “You were the prettiest thing there tonight. Fuck, darling, you’re so tight!”

He thrusts into you harder, faster, making the bed squeak and you lose your voice from how loud you moan. You can feel yourself about to cum after so much foreplay and stimulation (Nanami is a gentle lover). “Kento!” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “I’m gonna cum! Please…please cum with me!”

And he does. At the sound of you begging, he bursts inside of you with a ragged groan as you cum all over his big cock, your pussy walls squeezing around him and stroking his shaft. As you do, his lips find yours, giving you a passionate kiss that could melt the ice with how hot it is.

NICO ROBIN (One Piece)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized!

Nami swore up and down that you needed to go on a date for Valentine’s Day to forget about your short-term “situationship”.

“Just give a chance, Y/N,” she said to you over ramen. She treated you to lunch at the best ramen place in town while you were on your work break. “It’s just for one night and I can’t stand the thought of my best friend alone on Valentine’s Day! And she’s a great girl, seriously!”

You looked down at your bowl of ramen, feeling hot under your sweater dress that clung to your plump body. The idea of a blind date didn’t appeal to you much, especially being such a big girl. Usually, when people got a look at you, they either ghosted you after the first date or didn’t give you the time of day. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Just be careful,” Zoro said, shoveling spicy miso ramen into his mouth. “She’ll charm the pants off of you…or skirt…whatever you’ll be wearing.” Nami smacked him on the the arm hard, making the green-haired hunk hiss in pain. “Don’t listen to him, honey. Robin is just a sweet-talker. You have nothing to worry about!”

But when you finally get a look at your date, you don’t think that’s true. Nami set the date up at a high-scale bar where the working class and hotshot businessmen come for happy hour. When you walk in, you immediately feel self-conscious despite looking oh-so yummy in your waistband coat that flares around your waist and pink dress that makes your skin and brown eyes pop. But the dress also sticks to your body, accentuating each curve, ripple, and roll. Though your stomach ripples with nerves, you also feel slightly confident catching eyes under the warm lights above.

You sit at the sleek bar and order yourself a cocktail to loosen up a bit more while you search for your date at the door. Nami only told you that she’s “tall with long black hair and might be wearing purple”. You’re curious as to what this girl is like and if she likes what she sees. You sip on your cocktail and scroll through your phone for a couple of minutes, completely unaware of the eyes you have captured from down at the bar.

When you turn around in your stool to place your glass down, you find another cocktail sitting behind you. Confused, you flag down the bartender. “I didn’t order this,” you tell him, pushing the glass towards him. “It was sent to you,” he explains. “From down at the bar.” You look in that direction, but find no one paying any attention to you. “But I have a date,” you protest. “I can't accept this.”

“That’s correct,” a sweet yet smooth and sultry voice purrs behind you, “and it’s usually rude to deny a drink from her.” The voice causes your body to react instantly: the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heart pounds in your chest; your stomach flips. You turn and see your blind date standing behind you in the flesh.

Beautiful isn’t a word to use for Robin. She is absolutely stunning. A straight vixen oozing confidence and poise as she stands behind you in a purple cocktail dress that illuminates her soft, pale skin and blue eyes that steal the air from your lungs. She tall and slender with piano fingers painted in a dark rouge that you want to feel wrapped around your body, but has a rack that can stop traffic and is definitely catching eyes. Her long, shiny, black locks of hair cascade down her slender shoulders, catching the light above. You are in awe of her and her beauty as are the others in the bar.

“Y/N?” she asks in her alluring voice. Wordlessly, you nod and close your mouth to avoid looking like an idiot. “I’m Nico Robin, Nami’s friend. She’s told me so much about you.” She puts a slender hand out to shake yours, giving you a whiff of her luxurious-smelling perfume and a peek of golden Tiffany bracelet.

You put your hand in hers, feeling warm from her touch. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. “Please, have a seat. Do you want a drink?” Robin raises her brows questionably as she settles onto a stool next to you. You flush under the lights, thanking God that he made you Black. “It’s only right since you ordered me one.”

Robin smiles, her pearly whites and dimples making you damn near melt. “How sweet of you,” she giggles. She orders herself a dirty Martini with extra olives and thanks you again when it comes. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I got caught up in some work.” She slowly crosses her soft, long, milky legs over one another. You do your best not to stare.

You give her a smile, pretending that you’re not turned the fuck on by her, and lean your elbow against your chin. “So you’re an archaeologist, right? That’s such an interesting job.” She smiles at the compliment and at the mention of her career as you sip your cocktail. “Well, I’ve always been attracted to history since I was young. I’m attracted to intelligence too, which you seem to have a lot of.” Her smile turns flirty and now you know what Zoro was talking about. You’re already charmed by her. “Tell me: what’s your job like?” she asks.

Your conversations last for hours and flow perfectly, especially after you get your second drinks in you. You tell her about your job and quietly gush over her curiosity and awe, realizing how much she loves learning. You talk about everything, from city life to books to anime, learning that you both love magical girl anime, especially Sailor Moon. You didn't expect that from Robin because of how poised she is and her love for dark colors, but as soon as you mention Sailor Moon, her eyes widen in excitement. “I love Sailor Moon!” She laughs. “I cosplayed as Sailor Mars two Halloweens ago. I bet you’d look so pretty as a Sailor Scout, especially with the skirt.”

That’s another thing you learn about Robin: she’s a flirt. She sneaks in little sly compliments to obviously make you flustered…and it’s working. You try to do the same, complimenting her on her outfit and her smile. “I can see why everyone is so fond of you in here,” you say, nodding at the group of businessmen playing pool that are not so discreetly staring at you both from across the room. Robin giggles, turning back to you with a hooded gaze. “Too bad,” she sighs, not at all sounding disappointed. “I’m here with you.”

As the night goes on, it gets looser as you both become more comfortable with each other. You talk about everything and anything, telling each other funny stories and showing pictures of your pets. “You’re a dog mom too?” you coo, gushing over her wallpaper of her and a fluffy, brown animal dressed as Santa Claus though he has pointed ears and horns. “Reindeer mom,” she corrects you and titters at your confusion. “It’s a long story, but that’s my perfect little boy. His name is Chopper.”

Other than Robin being a sweet-talker as Nami said, you also find out many other things about this alluring, attractive woman. Like how much she loves plays and Disney movies, becoming so excited when you ask her about her favorite films. “I love musicals,” she shyly says, an endearing blush on her face. “Can you tell I’m a secret theatre kid?” Or how she tends to ramble about information she’s obtained from books and documentaries about tribes long gone and age-old urban legends. You could listen to her talk for hours. Unbeknownst to you, she feels the same about you whenever you speak about yourself and your interests.

As the alcohol takes its affect on you both, she also tells you that she’s a devil fruit user, a term you’ve heard before since many in the world are, including your mutual friend Luffy. When you ask her about her ability, she just winks behind her third martini glass. “A woman never draws all of her cards…not all at once, anyway.”

As the night draws on, so do the drinks and soon, you’re feeling loose and bold. You decide to show her your hidden talent which is rolling your eyes to the right and the left. “I can wiggle my ears too,” you say, showing her much to her amusement. She applauds you, giggling at your talent. “My, you’re full of surprises,” she giggles. “And so am I.”

You suddenly feel something tickling your sides and look down to see two disembodied hands tickling you. Robin’s hands. You look at her in shock as she retracts her extra arms, using them to grab her third martini and take a sip. “The perks of being a devil fruit user,” she chuckles. At the sight of your expression, she grows concerned. “Do they frighten you?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “They’re…” You stare at her extra hands, wondering how many more she has and how they would feel on your body. “Pretty,” you decide to answer with. That is enough for Robin to decide what she wants from you tonight.

So when you’re both still sitting there when the bar is emptying out, she makes it known. “Oh, dear,” she sighs, exhaling in disappointment as the bartenders clean and the drunk crowd empties out. “It appears that our date has become to an end.” She turns to you, placing a warm hand on yours. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Y/N,” she says, a smile on her face that makes you ache.

You don’t want tonight to end. You don’t want her to go. You need more of her touch. She seems to understand and see the mutual disappointment in your eyes because she doesn’t release your hand. “Unless you want this night to continue,” she adds, her voice like honey in your ears. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t very attracted to you too, unless I’m mistaking the chemistry.” You can’t speak, so you shake your head and her eyes twinkle. She leans in toward you, engulfing you in her scent. “Just say the words and I’ll go with you,” she whispers into your ear.

Desire overwhelms you and you squeeze her hand, interlacing your fingers. “I’ll call a Lyft,” you exhale. Robin smiles, keeping her hand in yours.

She doesn’t let go even hours later when your fingers are interlaced with each others’ while your legs are pined open by her extra hands on the bed. Your moans and whimpers fill the darkness of your bedroom as she moves her tongue against your clit, moaning eagerly and sloppily into your pussy as she eats you like there is no tomorrow. “Now I can really show you how good I am with my hands,” she giggles, looking up at you between your thighs. “You’re so cute like this, pretty girl.”

You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more she moves her jaw, going faster and faster until you have no choice. “Robin,” you whine. “I'm gonna…gonna…!” Your back arches and your legs shake around Robin’s face.

Her hold on you tightens, her hands gripping your thighs.“Cum for me, gorgeous,” she hums. “I’ve got you. Cum all over my face like a good girl.” One thing is for sure while you gush around Robin’s face, loving how she eagerly laps up everything you give her: another date is definitely in the future for you and her.

PRO!KATSUKI BAKUGOU & KIRISHIMA EJIROU (BHNA)

*Note: Reader is plus-sized & a bimbo!

*Disclaimer: Bakugou & Kiri are both aged-up (over the age of 18) in this drabble!

You don’t know why you agreed to do this blind date thing, but your friend put you up to it after she reminded you of your NY resolution to try new things to help yourself.

“You need to put yourself out there more, girl!” she argued over the phone with you. “Do you see how hot you are?! You deserve to have someone on your arm!” You pouted as you painted your toe nails a pretty bubblegum pink, your feet hanging over you bathtub smelling like vanilla bubblebath.

Though she is right about you deserving a nice guy to tell you how pretty you are, most of the guys you dated either used you as arm candy, hit in then quit it, or just stopped talking to you because of your, uh…bimbo-ness. You know you have no filter and sometimes you do come off as dumb, but you’re trying your best! And you’re kind and the sweetest person anyone will ever meet! Isn’t that enough?

“Yeah, but a blind date though?” you complained into the phone sitting on your sink. “How am I gonna go on a date if I can’t see, girl?” You gasped, even more mortified. “Or will my date be blind?! How will be able to see me and my cute outfit?!”

Your friend just laughed. She knows you’re not the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re just too cute and sweet. “Honey, no! A blind date is when you meet someone you’ve never seen or met before. Someone else sets the date up for you.” Your heart resumed its normal pattern and you relaxed into the water. “Ohhh,” you realized with a giggle. “Well, if you’re setting it up, can you tell me anything about him?”

Your friend refused, much to your dismay. “Nope, but you’ll meet him later this week. Saturday night at 7 PM, don’t be late. I’ll give you all the details before then.” You hung up, a bit nervous but excited, already picturing your outfit for the day.

The Saturday of Valentine’s Day weekend, you go to the cafe your friend tells you to go to which is only a few blocks from your apartment. You dress in a pink sweater that does nothing to hide your voluptuous bosom and a pretty, cherry red skit that hugs your tummy and voluptuous ass, the damn thing so short that the ruffles stop mid-thigh, a sliver of your asscheeks seen whenever you bend over. You pair your V-Day outfit with some warm stockings and high black boots before putting on your favorite fluffy, pink coat.

An hour later after putting on some vanilla-scented body spray and giving your lips a slick of your favorite Fenty Gloss in a sparkly pink, you stand in line to order your food, hoping that will ease your nerves over today. Because your friend loves you so much, she set you up for two dates today: one at the cafe and the other later tonight at your favorite bar.

Your first date is a redheaded hunk, according to your friend. “He’s got red hair and he’s a fucking giant,” she giggles. “And he’s SUPER fine. You’ll know him when see him.” You melted at the details. “I do like big guys,” you sigh dreamily. Your second date is just as fine, but a hothead. “My friend works with him at his agency and apparently, he’s got a mouth.” Your friend rolled her eyes. "The dude is like a pit bull, but he's so fucking sexy.”

“I’m a little nervous though,” you mumbled, starting to feel insecure. “You think he’ll like me?” Your friend looked at you like you were insane, making you laugh. “Who wouldn’t? You’re adorable!”

And you feel adorable when you go next to the counter and the cashier’s eyes shoots straight to your tits. You don’t notice, too busy feening for some sweet, sugar coffee. “Hi, can I please get a peppermint mocha latte with two pumps of caramel, please?” You are so damn cute that the guy blushes and quickly rings you up. You pay and thank him when you get your drink before walking off, but stop when something captures you.

There, hidden behind a glass container behind the counter, are a bunch of seasonal-flavored doughnuts lined up in a row. Your eyes immediately go for the one coated in pink frosting, powdered sugar, and red and pink sprinkles. “Oooh,” you coo to yourself. “So pretty.”

“Agreed,” says a raspy, sexy voice from behind you. You turn a little too quickly and a bit of coffee sloshes over the top of your drink and onto the crotch of the guy standing behind you. “Oops, I’m so sorry!” you gasp. “I didn’t even see you! Oh, it’s gonna stain! Here, quick!” You quickly reach for a wad of napkins and begin to dab at the man’s crotch, not even realizing how it looks.

Still not even bothering to look up, the blonde furiously blushes while the redhead behind him stifles a laugh. “That’s quite okay,” he chuckles. “At least now he smells like peppermint down there.” The blonde growls like he wants to commit murder. “Plus, Katsuki was standing way too close to you in line, weren’t you, ‘Suki?”

You hand the napkins over to the blonde, hyper focused on the nickname. “‘Suki,” you giggle. “That’s such a cute…” Your words die in you that when you finally, finally, look up into the eyes of the two finest, sexiest men you’ve ever seen in your life. One of them has long, red hair cascading down his broad shoulders, fanged teeth that flash at you as he smiles, friendly, crimson eyes, and piercings––dangling from his ears, embedded in his eyebrow, and snakebites in his bottom lip. The other sports a platinum blonde undercut and a scowl that slightly softens at the sight of you. He, too, has crimson eyes that widen at your pretty face and outfit and one piercing in his plump bottom lip. The only things similar about the duo are how tall, buff, and sexy they both are. “Name,” you weakly finish. “I-I’m Y/N.”

The redhead grins, putting his big ass hand out for a shake. “Ejirou,” he says, “but my friends call me Kiri.” You do so, noticing how calloused his palm is and how much his sweater stretches against his pecs. The blonde has the same issue, his V-neck shirt way too tight for his toned body. “Bakugou,” he grumbles, giving you an intense stare that makes you melt on the inside.

Those gears in your head start turning and you gape at the duo. “Wait…I know you two!” you gasp. “You guys are those superheroes, right? Dynamight and Red Riot!” Kiri tosses his head back and laughs while Bakugou glares daggers at you. “Damn, could you be any louder?” he growls. You cover your mouth, flushing with embossment. “Sorry!” you whisper. "I’m just a big fan of you two! I almost didn’t recognize you in normal clothes. I have your posters and all of your merch!”

Kiri gives Bakugou a look that he would seeing a cat do something cute. And that is what you are: a cute little kitty. Something adorable and sweet yet you have a sexiness to you that both men are coming to find. “Well, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan. Especially such a cute one.” He grins at the way you giggle bashfully. “I’m guessing you’re a fan of sweets? Me too. I was actually planning on getting one of those for my boyfriend, my date, and I.”

You notice Kiri gaze at Bakugou when he says “my boyfriend” and you quietly gush to yourself. “Oh, you two are dating?” you coo, much to Bakugou’s dismay. He’s so cute when he blushes! “That’s so sweet! Here, I’ll treat you guys to ‘em to make up for that nasty spill.”

Kiri is just about ready to scoop you up and take you home with them when you dig into your bag for your Hello Kitty wallet. “Well, isn’t that sweet? You up for somethin’ sweet, Katsuki?”

Though Bakugou feels the same way, he still wants to feel you out and see if this “bimbo-esque” personality you’ve got going on is a fake. “It’s whatever,” he grumbles. “But you’d better get me the chocolate one. I don’t want the one with all of those sprinkles and shit on it.” You vigorously nod, taking out some cash. “You got it!” you giggle and hand them the cash. After getting back in line, Kiri orders one chocolate and two strawberry donuts and his and Bakugou’s drinks.

You thank the cashier when she hands you each pastry individually wrapped in a paper bag, nice, warm, and toasty from the oven. You turn to the pros and hand them the treats. “Here you guys go,” you sweetly say. Bakugou grumbles as he takes his while Kiri gives you a big gigawatt grin. “Thanks, cutie,” he chuckles. You expect them to start eating them, but you’re shocked when Bakugou hands one of the strawberry ones to you.

You freeze, confused. “But…this is for your date,” you say, completely clueless. “Aren’t you gonna give it to them?” Bakugou pinches the bridge of his nose like a dad with a dumbass child. “Oh, my God,” he groans. Kiri thinks it’s endearingly hilarious, holding his stomach as he laughs. “You are our date, silly girl!” he giggles. “Well, mine, technically. Your friend set us up to have dates with you at different times today, but we both just came together since we’re dating. I hope that’s cool.”

You gape at them, wondering if they’re serious. Two of the hottest pros on a date with you? At the same time?! You just about squeal with excitement. “Sure!” you giggle, your heart leaping for joy. “The more, the better! Let’s go sit down so we can get to know each other more.”

The two are happy to oblige. Kiri picks out a table in the back that is more secluded and near the window for the sights. Before you sit, you turn to Katsuki with an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry again about the spill, Bakugou.”

The blonde cuts his eyes at you and you can't tell what he’s thinking due to how permanent his scowl is. But that changes when he pulls your chair out for you. “Katsuki,” he replies. “And stop mentionin’ it. Besides, I know some other way you can make up for it later…maybe with your number.” He gives you a lopsided smirk that makes you tingle between your thighs.

“Chill,” Kiri cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Sorry about him. We don’t usually flirt too hard on the first date…but you’re just too cute to resist.” He boldly looks you up and down, tugging lightly on his bottom lip. You wonder what else he can do with his mouth as the cafe’s atmosphere becomes more tense between the three of you. “Well, I could say the same about you two,” you purr, a shy giggle leaving your lips.

That’s what the duo want to hear. Bakugou’s smirk widens, a twinkle in his vermillion eyes. “Glad the feelin’ is mutual, mama,” he whispers. “So you sittin’ or what? My fuckin’ coffee’s gettin’ cold.” You do so and you never want the date to end…unless it’s to spend more time with them in private.

NICHOLAS "NICO" BROWN (GANGSTA!)

You stand outside of a jazz club one chilly night, watching the passersby and wondering which one may be your blind date.

Worick told you all about his friend, Nico, but you’ve never met him before. You only know that the two work together and have known each other since childhood. You’ve only known Worick for two years after he helped you out of a messy financial situation with your asshole ex-boyfriend who, according to Worick, nearly shat himself when Worick threatened to bring Nico in to handle things. Apparently, Nico is well known throughout the town for being an extremely threatening and intimidating figure.

Why in the fuck would Worick want to set you up with someone like that? “He’s a cool dude, really!” he assured you over coffee. “Just…quiet. And it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s deaf. He’s just a quiet guy; a little awkward; introverted…”

‘Not to mention threatening and intimidating,’ you thought to yourself. “And you thought I was just perfect for this guy?” you scoffed. “What will we even talk about? How can I talk to him if he’s so quiet?”

“If you ask him something, he’ll answer you,” the handsome blonde replied. “And don’t worry too much about signing. He can read lips, but just make sure you slow down with your words.” Though Worick knows you know sign language due to your father being deaf since you were an infant. He can tell you’re still hesitant to say yes and folds his hands into a prayer.

“C’mon, sweetie,” he begs. “The guy has NEVER been on a Valentine’s Day date before and his last girlfriend was a fucking bitch who dumped him because he was deaf. All she wanted was his massive dick…sorry.”

He apologized when he saw your reaction. You didn’t need to know that his childhood friend has a big dick! ….Though you are curious to know just how big. “He needs someone kind, considerate, and sweet. You fit the bill! Just give him a chance, please?”

Before you agreed, Worick told you all about Nico’s ex, happy to do so when you asked. Apparently, she was the daughter of a rich family that he and Worick were in charge of guarding for a couple of months. She and Nico grew closer, had a sexual relationship, and Nico caught feelings while she didn’t, claiming it was because she didn’t want to date someone deaf due to it being “too much work”. You felt bad for Nico, especially when hearing how much it hurt him.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you sighed at Worick’s pleading stare. He clapped his big, calloused hands and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Love you too, sweetie,” he chuckled. “I’ll fill you in on the details later this week.”

He instructed you to meet Nico at an underground jazz club that Nico particularly likes for its seclusion and because no one bothers him too much in there. You dressed in a simple cocktail dress, flats and a cardigan to keep warm in the chill. Combined with your styled hair and soft makeup, you think you look pretty. You hope this “Nico" person thinks so too. When you look down the street among the other stores and taverns, you see a man walking up the road and you immediately know that your date has arrived.

He is big. Huge! The man is nothing but bulky muscle hidden beneath his black tee, baggy jeans, and leather jacket standing at six-foot something. He towers over you as he gets closer, so much so that you have to look up at him to actually look at his face. You can see why he's so intimidating. Other than the height and build, Nico carries himself with a roughness and a confidence that is unshakeable and undeniable. It’s scary…yet also thrilling. Kinda sexy too.

Under the soft glow of the street lamps, you get a good look at his features: he has a soft tan to his skin, thick, soft-looking lips, and eyes a deep, dark chocolate that you can get lost in forever. Silver dog tags hang from his thick neck that has your blood going hot and slight scars and bruises that you can see on his knuckles. You wonder, briefly, how he got them. He’s very, very handsome. Realizing he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you clear your throat. “Uh….hi!” you greet, giving him a wave. He nods, barely cracking a smile. “You’re Nico?” you sign with your hands and verbally ask. “I’m Y/N, Worick’s friend.”

Nico shakes your hand and you notice how big, warm, and calloused his palm is. It makes your pussy tingle embarrassingly so. “The teacher, right?” he signs with those thick fingers. “He told me you teach little kids.” You nod, smiling proudly at your occupation. “Yes, pre-K,” you giggle. “They’re adorable, but a handful.”

There is an awkwardness between you, mostly because Nico is such a silent guy. He also keeps that stoic scowl on his face, so you don’t really know what he’s thinking. “So what do you do?” you curiously ask. “Worick never filled me in on that. He just said you do ‘business’ together as Handymen.” At this, Nico cracks a crooked smirk. “Something like that,” he signs. That intrigues you a bit.

“Do you wanna go inside?” you ask, nodding at the door. “We’ll freeze before we get a chance to get to know each other more.” You give a small laugh to which he only nods, making you feel like a fish out of water. He opens the door for you, surprising you, and nods you into the warm club.

“Thank you,” you whisper, catching his intoxicating scent of cologne and lavender soap as you walk in. A bit of cigarette smoke clings to his clothes too, but it doesn't bother you much. The club is small yet cozy and dimly lit for a more intimate feel. Many people are at the bar or on the dance floor near the small stage where a band plays, the sounds of piano and cello mingling in the air.

After getting your drinks from the bar (you get a cocktail while Nico picks a beer), you pick a table near the window and Nico pulls out a chair for you. You flush bashfully at his actions, not taking him for such a sweet guy. “Such a gentleman,” you laugh as he pushes you in and takes a seat across from you. “Worick didn’t tell me that. He said you’re very quiet though.” He shrugs his broad shoulders in his jacket. “Just don’t got much to say,” he signs.

You nod as you shed your coat, revealing your naked shoulders and dress to him. You try not to be intimidated by his unwavering gaze. “That’s okay,” you sign and say. “We can talk about whatever you want.” The corners of his mouth quirk upward. “You sign really well,” he praises you. You smile proudly and bashfully, glad to have impressed him. “My dad is deaf and taught me how to sign since I was young.”

His smirk turns more dry and almost forced as he signs to you: “So me being deaf doesn’t turn you off?” he jokes. You immediately remember his ex and feel your stomach fall. “Not at all,” you sweetly answer. “Though I don’t like beer drinkers.” You wrinkle your nose at Nico’s drink. He raises an eyebrow, confused at your distaste. “It makes kisses taste like beer.” You lean forward a bit, giving him a secretive, flirtatious smile. “I like my kisses sweet.”

Your eyes tick down to his lips and he notices. But he barely reacts. If anything, he looks disinterested and your heart sinks. “Was that too much?” you ask worriedly. Did you go too far? Are you misreading this?

Before you can babble an apology, he stops you. “You asked what I do for work with Worick,” he signs. You nod, your heart thumping madly in your chest. He takes a deep breath before signing again. “We do almost everything, but I do dirty work,” he tells you. “I used to be a mercenary, but…I’ve still got human blood on my hands.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. That explains the marks on his fists. ”Does that bother you?” he asks, apprehension in his brown eyes. Before you can respond, someone knocks into the table, nearly toppling it over.

You squeak, grabbing your drink before it can topple over while Nico straightens the table. “Oh, my God, are you alright?” you gasp, immediately helping the guy onto his feet. He turns to you, all crooked teeth and bloodshot eyes. “Now I am,” he drunkenly chortles at the sight of you. “Damn, darlin’, you’ve got a body on you! You wanna dance?” You immediately step back, warning bells going off in your head. “U-Uh, no, sorry. I’m here with–“

The man turns to Nico who has been staring daggers at the drunk the whole time. “Him?” he cackles. “That fuckin’ cockhead? You can get someone better than that, darlin’. Someone who can take care of this bo–“

The drunk cuts himself off with a whine of pain as Nico grips his hand so hard that he cracks the drunk’s knuckle bones. Unbeknownst to you, the drunk tried to touch your behind and Nico wasn’t having that. Doesn’t he know who he’s fucking with? You gape at your date as he steps between you and the drunk, a hulking mountain, and gets deep in the drunk’s grill.

And then he opens his mouth: “Back up,” he warns, his voice deeper and raspier than you pictured it though loud due to his hearing. “Unless you want your head in this table, I suggest you leave her alone. She’s with me.”

He then releases the drunk who scampers away, clutching his hand to his chest. Nico composes himself and turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. “Sorry,” he signs. You don’t say anything and he is so sure that he fucked this up. Now you see who he is. Now you see that he’s just a Twilight. A mercenary. A no good–

“Nico?” you softly ask. His hurtful thoughts take the back burner when you step to him, looking up at him with those precious, brown eyes. “Do you want to dance?” you ask, signing the words to him.

He blinks at you, so sure that you were scared of him. When in reality, you were just trying to push the nasty thoughts of him kissing you silly and fucking you up against the table with that big, sexy body and massive dick out of your mind. Him defending you but still being a complete, gentle giant to you is getting you going completely, but it’s still the first date. You want him to open up and maybe a slow dance can do that for you. “Not much of a dancer,” he signs, looking sheepish.

You smile and offer your hands to which he takes. “I’ll show you how,” you giggle, pulling him along onto the dance floor filled with slow-dancing pairs. A soft, slow tune with a seductive saxophone and piano plays as you stand eye to eye. You place one hand on his shoulder as you interact your fingers with his with the other. Slowly, you begin to sway to the music, beginning to melt within the music and each other.

And when lean your head onto his shoulder, finally feeling at peace, Nico comes to feel that this is where you belong: with him, in his arms.

KEISUKE BAJI (TOKYO REVENGERS)

*Disclaimer: Baji is aged up (over the age of 18) in this drabble!

“You’re the worst blind date I’ve ever had,” you very boldly and irritatingly tell the annoyingly sexy man sitting across from you.

The attractive man with the long, wavy black hair, sharp eyes the color of milk chocolate, and a sharp, canine smile looks across from you at the table littered with remnants of your Italian dinner. Baji is his name apparently, a close friend of Mikey’s and one of his gang members. You never understood that gang shit, but they never give you problems.

If anything, Mikey’s gang ‘Toman’, protects you and makes sure you go about your days without any bother. “I’m guessin’ you’ve been on many blind dates before me?” Baji suggests as he chews on his pasta. “Huh. That’s a shocker.”

You sharply squint at him, catching onto that shade. “Why is that so shocking?” you ask, digging your nails into the table with how irked you are. You can’t believe Mikey set you up with him. It’s been twenty-five minutes into the date and so far, each conversation was an argument and shot after shot. Your personalities clash horribly, not to mention every woman in the place has their eyes on him. And he knows it! Not to mention that he’s an extreme messy eater (which led your mind to other places), he is way too into himself, and he has no idea how to act in a classy setting like an Italian restaurant.

He’s a wild. He’s argumentative and hot-headed. He’s a rugged, tough-as-nails, roughneck dude…and he’s turning you on.

Baji leans back against his chair, widening his legs in a way that makes you want to scream. Why the fuck does he have to be so goddamn fine but such an asshole? Is God punishing you? “Well, bein’ the fact that you’re the very definition of ‘a stick in the mud’,” he explains, “and a tighter than a drum, I can hardly believe how any guy sat across from you at a table. At least you’re pretty.” He goes back to eating his pasta like he didn’t just insult you.

“Excuse me?” you hiss, feeling your blood boil. Thank God for your dress or else, you’re sure you’d boil over from the anger you feel. “And I can’t imagine how any self-respecting woman can sit with a lowlife, cocky, smart ass narc like you. And unlike me, your looks do nothing to take away any of that.” Baji’s thick, black eyebrows raise at the shot you took. “And you’re snarky,” he chuckles. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for snarky girls.”

He uses his sinful tongue to lick a bit of sauce from his bottom lip. You catch a glint of metal on his tongue as he does and you realize that he has a tongue piercing. ‘Fuck,’ you think, clenching your thighs beneath the table and gripping the hem of your dress. You lean your hand against the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I can’t believe I said yes to this shit,” you sigh into your hand. “Fuck the $50. I’m gonna have to tell Mikey that–“

“Mikey?” Baji cut in, pausing from eating. “Mikey put you up to this?” His brown eyes widen in shock and you feel a spark of joy at shutting him up. “Yes,” you proudly say, venom in your tone, “he did. And you know why? It’s because no other girl wants to date you. You’re unromantic, you’re a slob, you’re always looking for an argument, and you seem to push every single guy’s buttons in here.”

He stares at you for a moment, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and then he begins to laugh so loud that the others in the restaurant look at him. You hide behind your hand, embarrassed. “Oh, shit!” he cackles. “I swear, that motherfucker is desperate to find me somebody.” You nod, pushing your dinner to the side. “Agreed. Why he ever thought I would be a perfect match for you is beyond me.”

Baji looks at you now, an unreadable expression on his face as his smile fades. “Maybe it’s because you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he replies though his tone is different. You stare at him in disbelief, scowling. Did he really just say that? Deadass?

Baji smirks at your reaction. “You heard me: B-R-A-T. You’re a brat and fortunately for you, baby girl, I’m just the guy to handle a chick like you.” He leans in toward you, folding his ringed knuckles beneath his chin. “Someone who doesn’t shut the fuck up or know her place.”

“Know her place?!” you snap, earning the attention of the restaurant. He barely reacts, though his smile grows and a strange twinkle appear in his eyes. “You know what? Fuck this and fuck you. Why you even have an ex-girlfriend is beyond me if this is how you talk to them.” You stand up in your pretty, body-hugging dress and grab your coat. “I’m leaving,” you huff, snatching the coat on. “Have a good Valentine’s Day, dickhead.”

Without another word or waiting for him to respond or even stop you, you leave the restaurant and step out into the cold February night. You barely get down the street before you hear your name being called. You turn, seeing Baji jogging towards you, those black locks flowing in the wind. “Y/N!” he calls in his deep ass voice. “Hold up, wait!” You don’t know why you stop, but you do, putting a hand on your hip. You glare at him and pout those plump lips when he finally stops in front of you. “You left your dessert.”

He presents a small brown box to you and opens it to reveal a small chocolate fudge cake with chocolate mousse on the inside and Godiva flakes coating the top. “I didn’t order any dessert,” you say in a tight voice. He smirks down at you, standing several heads taller than you. “I know; that’s why I ordered ya one. C’mon, you don’t like chocolate cake?” You look back down at the cake and close it before he hands it to you. “What, is this an apology?” you snort. “Sorry, man, but you’re gonna have to try much harder than–“

“You’re wonderin’ why I have an ex, right?” he interrupts you. You pause, confused, but he just smiles mischievously at you. “I have an ex, and many of them, because I’m an asshole, unfortunately. Force of habit.” He shrugs, but actually looks guilty for it. “But I’ve had many girlfriends because I know how to tame them.”

His smile is flirtier now, creating more of that sexual tension that you felt at dinner. You still stare at him, speechless, and he figures that you’re clueless about what he means. “I put it down,” he explains. "Give good dick. Knock their boots. Am I makin’ any sense here?” You roll your eyes, ignoring the thoughts running in your head of just how good he is in the bedroom. “I know what you mean,” you snap. “So why the fuck are you tellin’ me this?”

Baji smiles at you, his canines glowing at you as if they are illuminated by a light within them. They thrill you; bring a ferocious and needy part out of you that you didn’t know was even there. He takes a step toward you, getting closer, until you can reach up and kiss him if you want to. “Because I know you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs matter-o-factly. “What, you think I can’t see it? The way you squeezed your thighs tight together at the table. The way you kept starin’ dead at my hands. The way you’d get so lost in thought, as if daydreaming about somethin’ else way more exciting.”

You flush embarrassingly, more at your behavior than the fact that Baji noticed it. You can’t help how attracted you are to him. But Baji doesn’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. He wants you to want him the same he wants you. “Lucky for you, mama,” he purrs, the pet name making your pussy jump, especially with his voice, "I’m just as whipped for you, especially in that dress.” His fingers lightly glide down your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “I’m sorry about tonight, but I can show how sorry I am in other ways if you want me to.”

You can tell he genuinely means it and isn’t just trying to get in your pants, but even so, you still scowl up at him, your jaw set and eyes narrow. “And why do you think I’ll say yes?” you question. He just chuckles, still flashing you that sharp, sexy smile. “Because you know I’m the only one who can handle that bratty ass of yours.”

He then turns and waves a hand. You don’t know what for until a taxi suddenly glides over to the curb and stops. Baji walks to the backdoor and opens it before looking back at you expectantly, his eyes molten with lust. “Now get in the fuckin’ car, Y/N.” You know you shouldn’t get in the car and go anywhere with him, but you can’t deny how much he makes your pussy throb. So against your better judgement, you crawl into the backseat of the cab and tell the driver your address.

Hours later after being stripped out of your dress, shown extensive foreplay, and having your pussy eaten like Baji hasn’t had anything to eat in decades, you find yourself being fucked against the wall with your arms and legs wrapped tight around the long-haired, tattooed man who holds you against him as he pummels his thick, hard cock into your tight, wet pussy again and again. The bedroom is filled with the sound of your mixed moans and skin slapping against skin as he pistons his hips into you, making you see stars.

It doesn’t take long for your pussy to start quivering around his cock, squelching and dripping the more he fucks it. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life and you’re able to hold back anymore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Baji!” you practically scream. “Can’t…can’t take it! I’m gonna cum!”

Baji shakes his head, gripping your hair with one hand while he hikes you up onto his waist with the other, showing you how lightweight you are to him. “Uh-uh, bratty girl,” he huffs. “Not yet, mama. I need to feel more of this pretty pussy flutterin’ around me.” He thrusts harder, faster, drawing whines and sobs out of you. You begin to claw at his back where a large tattoo dedicated to Toman is inked into his back muscles. “You cum when I say, understand?” he growls into your ear.

You weakly nod, willing to do anything he says if that means you can cum. “Now shut the fuck up, and take this dick.” You do so, stopping your protests as he fucks you stupid until you cream all over his cock while he fills you up to the brim…but of course, you only do it when he says so. You find that you love doing what he tells you to.

When everything is said and done, you both crumble to your bedroom floor and Baji pecks your cheek. “Best blind date ever, right?” he chuckles.

BENIMARU SHINON (FIRE FORCE)

*Note: Reader is Goth!

“God, kill me,” you sigh, standing in front of the theater doors. “Why did I agree to do this? He could be a serial killer or something!”

You contemplate leaving, but you already promised your best friend that you’d go through with this stupid blind date on this stupid ass holiday. “Please just try and go along with it for tonight, Y/N!” she practically begged. “I promise he’s a nice guy! And I already told him you agreed! Just give it a chance and I promise you that I’ll never bother you about dating again.”

You groaned, sitting across from her at a bar. “Fuck,” you sighed. “Fine. Can I least pick the movie?” Your friend eagerly nodded, so you purposely picked a romance/horror movie marathon showing that the theatre does every year for Valentine’s Day. The kind with blood n guts, gothic vampires, and slashers. Surprisingly, the guy still agreed to come much to your dismay and you had no choice but to come out.

You know that your friend did this as a way to get you to start dating. You swear she thinks that one of these days that you’ll hang yourself from the shower rod with how lonely you are…and this has zero to do with you being goth. Though you love the color black, but you’re not depressed. You love dark makeup and rock music, but that’s what you love. You’ve always adored gothic fashion and the aesthetic, so that’s what you live.

However, some people think it’s weird. Though Tokyo is full of eccentric and different type of fashion, goth isn’t particularly “popular” in your Black family or side of the city. And it certainly isn’t popular with the guys. You don’t care. You love yourself and you’re not about to change for anyone. So you dress in your finest black attire with a mini leather skirt, thigh-high stockings, and boots that make you feel powerful and sexy. Your makeup is dark, your mascara is sharp, your nails are as long and sharp as claws, and chains drip from your leather jacket.

You wonder what your date will be like. Apparently, he’s a well-regarded and respected officer in the Special Fire Force, among the strongest there is. But you don’t recognize him when he comes up the road from his side of the city. He is tall and has a lean build that is hidden behind a black sweater and baggy jeans. His locks of black hair hang in his face, but not enough to hide his different set of eyes: his right pupil is a red circle with one black dot in the middle while his iris is black; his left is red with a white X in the middle, reminding you of a game of tic, tac, toe.

“Hey,” he greets easily. “You waitin’ for someone?” You scowl at him, crossing your ams over you chest. “Why are you asking?” you ask sharply. The stranger raises his big hands in defense, taking a step back. “I’m not trying you, I promise. I’m just wondering if you’re this Y/N that’s supposed to be waiting here for me.”

You squint at him, cocking your head to the side to see him at a different angle. “Benimaru?” you question. “Huh. You don’t look how I thought at all.” He is handsome but not enough to knock you off your game. He quirks a small smirk and you have a feeling that this dude don’t smile often. “I hope that’s a good thing,” he wryly chuckles. “For the record, you’re not bad on the eyes either…if that’s what you meant.”

You don’t acknowledge his compliment or react even though your stomach flips. You’re not used to anyone complimenting you on the account of your black lipstick and mascara. “So should we go in or stay out here to freeze to death?” you sarcastically ask. You huff and turn on your heel before Benimaru can even answer or follow you.

He easily beats you to the door on his long legs and opens it for you, towering over you as he does. “Is sarcasm just natural for you?” he asks, dry humor in his voice as you step into the theater. You feel a pang of guilt at your behavior. It’s not his fault your friend orchestrated this.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I’ll admit, I’m not too hype about being here. Dating isn’t really my thing, but my friend insisted I come on this stupid blind date…no offense.” Benimaru barely blinks at you walk to the ticket counter. “None taken. My friend, Konro, swore I needed a Valentine’s Day date when the whole holiday isn’t even a holiday. It’s pure BS.”

“Ugh, agreed,” you scoff, rolling your pretty, brown eyes ringed in mascara “It’s just a way for companies to continue to capitalize off of hopeless romantics and couples. Not to mention all of that pink.”

Benimaru nearly misses that, too busy thinking about how pretty your eyes are. “I’m takin’ you don’t like pink?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Not that your clothes are a dead giveaway or anything.” His interestingly alluring eyes tick up and down your outfit, making you feel hot under all of the leather. “I just like black,” you laugh. “But don’t get me wrong; I wear other colors sometimes, but only on a minuscule level.”

“Your friend said you were a gothic chick,” he chuckles, giving you a mischievous smirk. You send it right back as you take out the two tickets your friend sent you for the movie. “As gothic as they come,” you retort. Benimaru just hums in response, particularly liking you in that mini skirt and the way it swishes around your thighs.

After buying the tickets, you two wander into the small waiting area where a bar, a cafe, and an arcade occupy the space. “So the movie starts in about fifteen minutes. Should we head in now?” Benimaru doesn’t answer at first, too busy staring at the arcade games. “Nah,” he replies, nodding at the flashing, noisy games. “We can kill some time in here.” He begins to walk over, expecting you to follow. “Your friend also said you’re shit at racing games,” he says with a smirk shot your way.

“Not true!” you scoff, crossing your arms. He shrugs pausing in the threshold of the arcade to wait for you. You finally give in, taking off your jacket to reveal your black crop top. “Fine, but only if we got time for the shooting games too. I wanna kill some zombies.” Benimaru nods, secretly laughing to himself as you follow him into the arcade.

You spend way more than fifteen minutes in that bitch, playing all the games you can. Benimaru is good at almost everything, playing each game with skill and precision. He lets you win most of the time, just liking to see you smile and laugh in pride when you win a racing game or beat him at ping pong. During the zombie game, you get overrun by the undead while holding your plastic machine gun and you feel him lightly touch your elbow to point the gun straight. His touch sends shivers all over you. You win the first half until you run out of time and Benimaru smirks at you. “I totally helped you with that,” he sniggers.

You also play basketball, shooting them repeatedly through hoops. He always gets the farthest hoop and the highest points, winning every round. “You only won ‘cause you’re taller,” you huff, bumping your hip with his as you walk by. It gives him the perfect opportunity to watch your ass sway in that damn skirt, making him hard as a rock for you.

As walk to get something to drink, you stop at one game in particular: the crane game. It holds dozens of little plushies that you’re obsessed with, including the little black plague doctor with its big eyes and fluffy beak. Benimaru smirks at you staring at the game, walking up beside you. “I saw you looking at this thing the whole time,” he says. "You couldn't have been any less discreet.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, still staring at the plushie. He notices and pulls out his last arcade coin. “What, you want it?” You quickly shake your head, turning to leave. “We’re gonna miss the movie anyways, so–“

“Fuck it,” he carelessly interrupts, shocking you. “You obviously want that penguin, so I’ll get it for you.”

You roll your eyes, sighing. “It’s not even a penguin; it’s a plague doctor Squishable. It ain’t a big deal for me to have it, Benimaru.” But your date just glares at you as he bends down to put the coin in the slot. “And it ain’t a big deal for me to get it for you,” he argues. “If we miss the movie, we’ll just go for food.”

You are floored by his stubbornness and refusal to give up until he’s made you happy. How can that be? You only just met and yet here he is, using his last coin to try to get you a stupid plushie! You watch with bated breath as he plays the game, moving the crane slowly as he fixes his eyes on the plushie. Once he’s moved the crane right over the plushie, he hits a button, causing the crane to sink down into the sea of stuffed animals. The crane’s hooks latch onto the peak of the plushie and, slowly, he moves it over to the opening in the corner to release it.

The crane plays music and lights up in victory as the plushie rolls down the chute into Benimaru’s hand. He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. “Here,” he says passively. “I figured goth girls didn’t like cute shit like this…but he is kinda creepy.”

You take the plushie, just staring at it for a moment. All of the sudden, you feel weird. You feel tingly and butterflies flutter around in your stomach. That never happens, but it’s happening for this guy! “Thanks,” you softly, and very shyly, say. Benimaru shrugs like it isn’t anything to him, but it is to you. “Y’know, the movie marathon is gonna be showing another night too…” You trail off, looking down at your shoes to avoid seeing his eyes.

“So you want another night with me?” he asks. Quickly, you turn on your heel and stomp out of the arcade, leaving him utterly confused. “What?” he calls after you, sounding genuinely baffled. “It was just a question!”

A second night with him does happen two weeks later and you do see the midnight marathon, but neither of you pay any attention to the first move that plays. You’re too busy bouncing on your date’s thick, veiny cock in the darkness of the theater to watch the film, biting back your moans despite the seats being empty. Benimaru softly grunts and moans into your ear as your walls flex around him, his eyes transfixed on the way your ass jiggles as he lifts up your skirt.

“Fuck, Beni!” you moan. “Y-You’re s-so fuckin’ big!” You grip his thighs with your long nails as his dick stretches you out in the best way, a delicious ache coming in your calves with the effort it takes to bounce on him. Benimaru stands up and bends you over the seat in front of you, beginning to fuck you from behind. He is fast and nails that single spot every time that makes you have to cover your mouth because you’re so loud.

“Shh, shh, baby,” he coos into your ear as he continues to pound into you from behind. “You don’t want security comin’ to find us, do you? Or maybe you do, you little slut, fuckin’ your date in the movie theatre.” He takes a fistful of your hair and pulls, much to your enjoyment of being slutted out in the dark. Anyone could walk in and see you fucking right now. It’s so naughty. So sexy.

The thrill of it must be getting to Benimaru too because he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against your clit as his hand smacks against your ass, gripping it tight. “Shit, baby, you’re gonna make cum!” he groans, tossing his head back at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around him. “Cum with me! Make that pretty fuckin’ pussy cum around my cock!”

You quickly begin to rub you swollen clit in time with his thrusts and soon enough, you’re cumming all over his cock. “Fuck!” you scream into your hand as your orgasm tears through you. Benimaru cums too, filling you up with a long groan that he bites back as best as he can among the movie playing. He lets you come down from cloud nine before pulling out, letting his cum leak down your thighs. He turns you around, pumping his cock soaked in your juices. “Not yet,” he growls. “Put it back in your mouth and taste yourself.”

You get on your knees, panties at your ankles and leather skirt hiked up. Benimaru wastes no time thrusting into your mouth, using it as his very own fucktoy, as he watches your brown eyes ringed in mascara stare up at him eagerly. When he pulls away to cum again, your black lipstick stains his cock, marking him as yours. “Fuck!” he gasps as he cums all over your pretty face, ruining your eye makeup. It is now but black smears down your cheeks as his nut drips all over your face and cheeks.

“Poor baby,” he chuckles. “Your mascara’s runnin’. I bet you worked so hard on it.” He takes a napkin from your movie snacks and dabs away the cum. “So cute,” he sighs, marveling at how utterly adorable you look. You giggle, feeling deliriously good and cute, just as he says.

Yeah. A third date is most definitely in the future for you now.

222 notes · View notes

onlyhuis · 1 year

Text

april 20th: pot luck

member — fwb!chan x f reader genre — smut, fwb to lovers word count — 3.2k synopsis — you're no stranger to smoking in the park on 4/20, but smoking in the park while chan begs you to let him make you cum? that's new. content warnings — marijuana use (smoking), there's angst for like 3 seconds but not really smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, sexual acts in a semi-public setting (they're in a secluded area of a park), sexual acts while high, shotgunning, chan is clingy & cute when he's high :) disclaimer — this story is a work of fiction. both chan and reader are portrayed as consenting adults above the legal age of 21. always make sure your partner is someone you trust and have talked with beforehand while sober. remember to practice safe, consensual sex! notes — requested by @angelwoozi 🧸!! this concept is going to sit in my brain forever now agsdjkfahsd i hope you like it! also tagging @bitchlessdino because it would be a sin if i didn't. happy 420!

you hold the pre-rolled joint between your fingers, watching the way the thin smoke spirals off the end of it. chan holds out his hand as you exhale, and you pass it back to him for him to take his turn.

it's the secluded end of the park, where the trees are thicker and shadier and the grass is always a little bit damp, even during hot summer afternoons. a cool breeze blows today, and distantly you can hear birds chirping and the shuffling footfalls of joggers making their way around the park's running paths.

you lay back, settling down on top of the worn, quilted picnic blanket you keep in your car. for the first time in a while the weather's been nice enough to draw you outside, spring gradually melting into summer.

he holds the joint out towards you but you wave him off, so he sets it at the edge of his ashtray, the little yellow painted one you made him for his birthday in a ceramics class from a few semesters ago.

chan leans back too, propping himself up on one elbow as he reaches for his water bottle absently.

laying on your back, you can see each leaf on the tree, and when the wind blows you can see bits of blue sky peeking through the swaying branches. you hear chan call your name, but you ignore him, just wanting to watch the world go by for a moment. or maybe, you just pretended to hear him call your name. you seem to do that a lot recently, imagining him doing things until you aren't sure what's real or dreamed.

ever since new year's eve when you accidentally on-purpose slept with him and then maybe kept sleeping with him for months afterward, nothing's been the same. despite the fact that you definitely like him as more than just a friend you have sex with, you’ve never talked about it with him because he seems more than fine with keeping things simple; you wish he didn’t, but you don’t want to push him, so you just stick to having sex and sharing your weed.

it turns out him calling your name was, in fact, real, because a few seconds later you see his figure looming over you, blocking your view of the leaves and the sky.

your words come out lilted. "what is it, chan?"

"can i eat you out?"

you blink slowly a few times, thinking and processing his sentence and repeating it in your head so many times until you'd forgotten what he'd actually said.

"eating what? we had tacos earlier. i’ll make you a sandwich or something when we go back, i told you you should’ve brought more snacks to munch on."

“noooooo.” he whines and flops down onto the blanket on his side. "wanna eat you," he grumbles. his fingers find your arm and begin drawing shapes and patterns along your skin as he waits for your response.

it finally clicks in your mind what he's asking, and with much effort you roll your head over to look at him. "why?"

"because it's a nice day outside," he says, fingers trailing down to your wrist. "and i like it. oh my god, you're so hot. like… woah. why wouldn't i want to?"

your heart jumps, and you can't tell if it's completely from his words or mixed with how stoned you are, but you feel so happy. he sounds almost affectionate.

you shift your legs, your pants starting to grow uncomfortable the more you begin to think about chan between your thighs. it's a sight you're familiar with, but one you can never quite seem to get used to.

you throw your arm over your head, tugging gently at the cool grass beneath your fingertips to ground you to earth. "but there's sooo many people out, chan," you say, a little more giddy than you intend. "you’re too high. somebody'll see."

he closes his eyes slowly and furrows his brow, thinking deeply.

"put your bag here, then," he says finally, rolling over onto his stomach to grab your tote bag from the edge of the blanket and haul it over to your hip. it was a good idea in theory, but in reality it barely covers a tiny part of your body, and it would only be effective at blocking his head from onlookers at a very specific angle.

his fingers brush over your thigh on accident, and you sigh, legs parting just slightly. chan doesn't seem to notice, though; he's latched himself to your arm again, tracing his name across your skin over and over like a kindergartener learning to write their name for the first time.

"you really want to?" you ask, peering over at him through foggy eyes but grinning when you see him now focused on the tiny hairs on your arm.

"yes, please," he hums, and he starts kissing the inside of your elbow along your forearm. his lips are warm and so, so soft, it feels like rays of sunshine tickling your skin. until he opens his mouth and he starts gnawing on you, biting gently at your arm.

you swat at the back of his head, and then once more, laughing at how silly he is. silly feels like the right word. silly how cute he is and silly how maybe you're a little bit in love with him.

"oka-ay," you say finally, tugging on his hair to get him to stop biting you. he rests his head on your stomach and gazes up at you with big, soft eyes, and you know there's nothing going on in his head right now. honestly, there's not much going on in yours either, but there's enough happening up there to know better than to not let him have what he wants.

you pull the bag closer to yourself and lift your hips, shifting your pants down just enough to expose the top of your thighs.

"don't let anybody see—" you start to say, but chan is already diving in. he shimmies down your body, positioning himself between your legs so that it would look like he's merely resting on top of you if anyone passing by were to steal a quick glance.

in your present state of mind, neither of you are quite as sneaky as you probably think. you can only pray no one walking around the park is paying much attention to their surroundings, though your spot is far enough away from the main paths that someone would have to be intentionally looking in order to find you.

one thing you know for sure is that chan is a messy eater. in the privacy of his apartment (or occasionally, yours) he'll spend hours between your legs, making out with your pussy until you're so exhausted and overstimulated that just the thought of another orgasm makes you shudder. usually he doesn't go that far, because at the end of it all he still wants to have his cock inside of you, but that doesn't ever stop him from making a complete mess of you anyways.

but to your surprise, when he kisses you over your underwear before pulling them down your hips, his lips are slow and gentle, like wading through water. you feel his fingers kneading your waist, and you realize belatedly that you've been tensed up. you'd been preparing for a fast, rough onslaught of pleasure but clearly chan has other plans today: taking his sweet time with you. and with how fuzzy your head feels right now, going slow is more than fine by you.

he flicks at your clit, laying his tongue flat and smoothing it over every inch of you before flicking again, and subconsciously you angle your hips upward, chasing his mouth. his spit covers your cunt, and when he moves his head back you can feel the breeze cooling the heat between your legs, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

you hear a shrill scream from behind you, and you tilt your neck back to see where the noise came from. upside down, you can see two kids distantly running around in the grass, playing a game.

you yank chan up by the back of his collar and pull your pants up as far as they'll go, ignoring the insane wedgie you've just given yourself as you scramble to look like you haven’t been doing anything suspicious.

you stay on your back, craning your head around to look at your surroundings. once you’re certain nobody’s around, your eyes settle on chan, who’s staring blankly back at you. his face glistens in the sunlight from the amount of wetness all over his face that he doesn't even seem to be aware of.

"wipe your mouth," you try to scold him, but the whole situation is suddenly so funny you can't help the laugh that comes out instead.

chan sits up, a little disoriented at first but he pushes through the clouds in his mind and finally brings his hand up to his face, swiping at his mouth once with the back of his hand. he looks around and he spies the ashtray with the half-smoked joint still sitting in it, and with a lazy grin he leans over to grab it, fumbling with his lighter to reignite it.

he takes a long, slow hit, and you're surprised he's not more out of breath from just having his face shoved in your pussy for what seemed like eternity.

he holds it out to you with a little grunt, and you finally find the energy to prop yourself up onto your elbows to take it from him. you inhale then breathe out a fine cloud of smoke as you pass it back to him, and he sets it back down, giggling to himself.

you smile, his laughter contagious with your already content mood. "what're you laughing at?"

he rolls his head around in a circle, staring off into the distance with a dopey grin on his face. "i… dunno," he answers finally, and he looks back at you, his eyes full of emotion you can't really understand fully.

"well, you almost got us caught, dummy," you tell him, an involuntary pout forming on your lips as you lay back down. "if you wanna have sex we should just go back to your apartment now."

"i don't want to," he whines, and you frown at him. he opens his mouth, stops and closes it again, then finally speaks, seemingly having gathered all his words together in the right order. "of course i always wanna have sex with you but right now i wanna make you cum first. like, right now, right now." he looks over at you again with those big, stupid, pretty eyes of his. "ple-ease?"

"but somebody might see again, channie. you can make me cum at home."

he shakes his head slowly. "but we still have to finish this, anyway," he protests, pointing at what's left of the joint.

you lose focus and stare off at the trees again, knowing he's right. you'll have to stay until it's out, then clean up your blanket and put away your stash, so it's not like you were gonna get home anytime soon then, right?

he turns towards you suddenly, his mouth half open like he's just thought of something crazy. he carefully transfers the joint to your hand, wrapping your fingers around the end of it. "how about i finger you, and you can hold this for me until you cum, and then we finish it and we go home and fuck. holding two birds with one stone."

you glance around, hoping nobody heard him loudly exclaim that he wants to finger you. you think about telling him to keep it down, or at least correct his attempt at a metaphor, but the words feel like too much effort and you're still weary from the almost-orgasm just a few minutes ago.

you stare at the object he had put in your hand for a second before you decide to take a drag, putting your other hand on chan's neck to pull him close so you can exhale the smoke into his lips.

clearly he wasn't expecting it, and he coughs a couple times, but he recovers and immediately goes in to kiss you again. he kisses you for so long it feels like he's never going to pull away, and when you do finally let go for a second it seems like he isn't even breathing.

he just sighs dreamily, his eyes still closed. "i love kissing you," he says, and the way he says it makes it sound so important.

you elbow him in the chest lightly to get his attention, and he lets out a little "oof!" and opens his eyes.

"hurry up so we can go home. i wanna suck your dick," you say, clearly deciding to let him have his way as you push your pants down once more.

his hand slides over your body, and the way he smiles when his two fingers make contact with your pussy gives you goosebumps. his touch feels heavenly, and you have to put all your focus on holding the joint upright so you don’t accidentally drop it. but it’s so hard to stay focused when you can feel his fingers so deep inside you, moving in and out and curling and scissoring and it drives you crazy.

at least in this new position, it’s not as obvious what you’re doing. with shaky hands you take another hit, a bigger one this time, trying to finish it as fast as you can so you can go home and not have to worry about being seen.

chan pushes a third finger into you and you hold back a whimper, wrinkling your nose in pleasure.

he opens and closes his mouth at you, and there’s a few seconds before your brain catches up and you realize he wants you to help him smoke while his hands are occupied. you carefully hold the joint up to his mouth and he wraps his lips around it.

the sight of him laying on his side, his hand cupping your cunt as you act like his personal helper is hotter than you expect it to be, and you clench around his fingers, heat burning in your abdomen.

he sucks in a sharp breath and leans his head away from your hand to cough again. “are you— close?” he asks once he’s recovered, his tone almost pouty. “you’re squeezing my hand so hard and now my dick hurts because i imagined fucking you instead.”

you sigh, leaning your head back against the blanket and letting your eyes close again, your hand propped up in the air. “yeah… i reeally wanna fuck you.”

he pries the joint out of your hand to take a hit by himself, then puts it back in your grip and moves his other hand to massage your breast over your shirt. you whine, not expecting it, and buck your hips up.

“fuck, chan– faster, please,” you mumble, your head swimming.

he puts his thumb to your clit and presses down, his fingers moving more roughly inside of you to draw you closer and closer. after a while you open your eyes, and you find him staring at you with such a sweet, empty look on his face, it makes you want to kiss him forever.

you pull him down on top of you and push your lips against his. your teeth clack with his but you don’t care, because you feel too good everywhere else to even pay attention to one little bad thing.

just like the way chan eats you out, he’s messy when he kisses you, and even more so when he’s high. you can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you whine into him, the rest of the world falling away so that the only two people who exist in the entire world are you and him.

without warning you feel familiar waves wash over you and you practically go limp under him as your orgasm knocks the breath out of your lungs. he stills his fingers inside of you but continues to pet at your clit with his thumb as your walls spasm and contract around him.

when you start to regain some of what’s left of your senses you grab his hand to stop him, pulling him out of your aching pussy. he sighs and pushes his face into your chest, humming against your boobs.

caught up in the moment you hadn’t noticed when you’d dropped the joint, but luckily there was a god or some being out there in the universe that was on your side, because you’d dropped it directly onto the ashtray and not the blanket or the grass.

chan sits up and folds his legs cross-legged as he lights it one more time and hands it to you. there’s not much left of it by now, so it doesn’t take long for you both to finish it. your clothes stink of smoke and you’re a lot clumsier than usual, but you’re more content than you’ve been in a long time.

it’s not the first time you’ve had sex with him while high, but something feels different this time. maybe it was the way he clung to your arm walking back to his apartment, giggling with glee about how he couldn’t wait to have you all to himself. but it was probably more the fact that he told you he loved you right after you came and then proceeded to beg you to let him kiss you again.

of course you let him, your heart and your head soaring as you laid in the grass, casually making out for at least a quarter of an hour. you were in no rush to be anywhere, especially not when you had everything you wanted right here. and it seemed like he had everything he wanted, too: when you finally started to pack up your things to leave, he’d panickedly asked if you would stay with him.

“of course i’m staying,” you laughed, pushing him off of the blanket so you could fold it and put it away. “aren’t we going back to your place?”

“yeah, we are,” he said shyly, plucking a dandelion from the grass. “i meant like… all the time. i don’t wanna do this anymore.”

you looked at him, suddenly scared and a little confused at the sudden change from how excited he’d just been. “…you don’t want us anymore?”

he shook his head. “no, i want you! serious, like boyfriend and girlfriend! i want us to be us.” you don’t immediately respond, and he frowned.“you don’t want to?”

your eyes softened. “i do want to,” you smiled, crawling over to him to cup his cheeks in your hands. “i want to, very much.”

it would be a while before you finally made it back to chan’s apartment, but it was worth the wait. everything was worth the wait.

next year, when you sat in the same spot at the same park to spend your anniversary together, you joked that he had waited until april 20th to make it official because he’d wanted your anniversary to be on a funny date. but really you didn’t mind, because it just gave you more reasons to celebrate.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it lets me know this is something people want to see more of and it helps a ton with being motivated to write. thanks for reading!!

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gyu-effect · 1 year

Text

i’ll marry you with paper rings || k.mg (teaser)

PAIRING || Mingyu x Female Reader

GENRES || Best Friends To Lovers AU, Fluff, Angst, Childhood Friends To Lovers AU, Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Marriage Pact AU, Humour, Smut

SUMMARY || When the two of you were little, you and Mingyu had made a marriage pact, agreeing to marry each other if both of you remained single till thirty. Of course, it was just a joke between the two of you and you both went about in your own ways, the silly promise pretty much forgotten. You soon had a huge list of ex-boyfriends and it became a routine for Mingyu to be your human tissue after each breakup. It was a tiresome job, taking care of you, but if the said best friend in love with you didn’t do it, who would?

Or, in which, even twenty years later, Kim Mingyu finds himself running to your every beck and call, despite telling himself he won’t fall for you anymore.

SERIES MASTERLIST || an ode

A/N || If you want to be added in the taglist, send me an ask!

“Hi!”

Mingyu turned towards the excited squeak and found a girl of his age standing beside him, waving a bit too excitedly. He smiled at her politely before beckoning to the empty seat beside him for her to sit down.

He had finally agreed to go on a date with Suji, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy a little bit before he became completely busy with his studies. He had tried searching for good places to go on a date that might suit both his and Suji’s taste, but finding none, he finally had resorted to asking Seokmin for advice.

Currently, the two of them were at the Food Plaza, a street completely dedicated to small food shops. According to Seokmin, he and his girlfriend enjoyed trying new food from there so it might be a great idea to take Suji there instead of a restaurant that would serve only a particular cuisine.

“So, um, Suji.” Mingyu began, immediately wishing a hole would swallow him up because of how awkwardly he sounded. “What do you eat? I mean, like, what would you like to eat? Like- Like cuisine wise?”

“Uh, about that-”

“We could have Italian if you like! Or- or, uh, my friend actually recommended me this taco place but I’ve just got to search for it a bit-”

“I’m actually allergic to a lot of food.” She cut him off, smiling at Mingyu apologetically. As he stared at her, he could feel the embarrassment sinking in even more.

Oh. Oh. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have selected a different place.” He said, trying not to sound too dejected at how his first date was going.

“I didn’t want to offend you. I mean, it was the first time we were talking and you asked if this was fine with me and I felt it would be rude if I said no.” She said sheepishly, clearly equally embarrassed at how things were turning out.

Why did she have to overthink so much? Why did she have to be so polite?

“Then…do you want to go somewhere else-”

“I see a Subway here, behind you. Do you mind if we eat there instead?” She asked with a smile.

He forced a smile and got up, and she followed his lead. Oh great, this Subway is only a takeaway. “Of course not. Let’s have a Subway then.”

Mingyu had always had great expectations for his first date. He had always thought it would be at a nice comfortable place, enjoying the food as he got to know his date and vice versa. Never had he thought that he would be eating a Subway for his first date, sitting on one of the plastic chairs kept outside the shop, getting boiled under the hot sun.

The rest of the afternoon passed away in idle chatter. Suji was apparently a straight A student, but she had no other hobbies because she spent every single moment studying (he could understand that, really, but it was boring beyond words).They ended up talking about school and grades more than Mingyu had in his entire life and by the time they had finished lunch, his head was already throbbing.

Out of politeness he asked if she wanted to go to the amusement park but she told him she hated the amusement park, to which Mingyu had nothing to say.

Finally finding that there was nothing else to do (and they had nothing in common except for their grades), the two of them decided to call it a day. They bid each other goodbye with Suji thanking him for the food, and Mingyu promised he would catch up with her more (he didn’t intend to keep this one though).

The sun was already setting in by the time he began his walk back home and the atmosphere had gotten relatively cooler, but it did nothing to stop the pricking heat he was feeling all over his body. His head still throbbed from earlier despite finishing nearly two bottles by himself, so he decided to take some rest at the neighbourhood park.

He sat down on one of the wooden benches and finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

What was wrong with him? Mingyu could feel his head spinning as he felt oddly hot, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. Talking to Suji made him feel so uncomfortable for some reason, it felt like he had been talking to a wall the entire time. It was awkward, forced and just so annoying even though he couldn’t tell why.

And he felt unhappy. Unexplainably unhappy. Like he had been forced to choose a career he hated or like he had been told to stop art altogether.

Finally, he took out his phone and dialled a very familiar number, hoping you weren't busy at this moment.

You picked up at the first ring itself and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t enjoy the date? He knew you wouldn’t feel offended by that and you would agree with him but then why couldn't he say anything to you?

“Gyu?” You asked softly, your voice laced in worry. And that was enough to break him. He let out a sob as he screwed his eyes shut, feeling a heavy emotion wash over him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, though he himself was unsure what he was sorry about. “I’m so sorry. I just-”

“Where are you?” You cut him off gently, and he paused for a second to catch his breath.

“I’m- I’m at the park near our apartment.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes, okay? Just hang in there.”

True to your words, you were there within five minutes, and you crouched down in front of him. Gently placing your hand on his knees, you asked again, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He was still shaking from the aftermath of his sudden breakdown, the nauseous feeling threatening to rise if he opened his mouth to speak. So instead, he just opted to look at you with his teary eyes, hoping you would understand.

Mingyu had always been the softer one among the two of you. He was always the first one to end up with tears when he got hurt or offended, and at the same time he was the first one to forgive anyone for their mistakes. So it wasn’t really surprising that you had learnt to realise his emotions even if he didn’t, and you always knew the right word to soothe him.

“Hey,” You said, still talking softly to him. You took his hands in yours, gently rubbing circles on them with your thumb. “It’s okay. It’s completely fine that you didn’t like her, you know that right? Sometimes…things don’t work out the way we think they would. But why are you crying? Did she do something to you? Don’t tell me she forced you to kiss her or-”

“No, no, it’s not anything like that.” He inhaled sharply, finally finding his voice back. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship with Suji just because he was confused about what he was feeling and why he didn’t like her. “It’s just that…I don’t know. She felt so boring, bland and dry. Not in the offensive way! Like- like Minghao from my chess class talks about only grades and school too! But I never feel so dull…so lifeless with him.

“It’s okay.” You said with a reassuring smile that had warmth flooding back to his chest, the stupid prickling heat that had been irritating his skin now gone. Pressing a soft kiss onto his knuckles, you said, “We don’t have to justify why we don’t like or like someone ever, okay? It’s completely fine.”

And all of a sudden Mingyu realised what he had been feeling, why he had felt so unhappy and what Suji had missing.

“I felt uncomfortable.” He said, just realising how comfortable he felt beside you. There was a feeling you radiated, which was something no one could ever replace. Whenever he was with you he felt like he was at home, like no matter what would happen he could always go back to you.

Which was a given since you were his best friend. And yet, when he was with Suji all he could think of was you. Of how you made him feel. Of how you made him feel always.

“Besides, I’ll always be there for you, you know that right?” You smiled at him.

Mingyu smiled back at you, finally feeling like the throbbing in his head dull down a bit. As if on a cue, he remembered something like this had happened to the two of you long ago, another incident of you calming him down which had resulted in the two of you making a silly promise.

Back then it was a promise made at the heat of the moment, with little to almost no thought given to it since it was meant to be a light joke between the two of you. But when he extended his pinky to you and you immediately linked it with yours, Mingyu could feel your seriousness.

“I promise.”

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anton-luvr · 7 months

Note

hii! i actually have a new riize fic blog myself but i thought it'd be fun to req you hehe, i love your stuff so far! <3 can i please request a college!au with swim team captain!anton teaching fem!reader how to gain confidence in the pool? she's not a strong swimmer but she wants to learn, and who better than the captain of the swim team with his reputation for being kind and understanding in his lessons? plus, he's super cute, it's no wonder he's so popular despite his shy personality~

in case you'd like to be moots or check out my blog, my riize user is antoniefic !

# TO GET TO MEET YOU.

𖦹 swim team captain!anton x fem!reader | fluff | college au 𖦹 note ; ahhh tysm!! this is so cute… this is also perhaps the longest fic i've ever written so enjoy!! + reqs are opennn

If you had to swim another lap, you think you were going to pass out.

“Okay, no more,” you gasped to your best friend, Sungchan, as you clambered out of the pool. “50 laps are too much.”

Sungchan frowns in response, looming over your panting figure with his hands planted on his hips. “If you keep giving up like this, you’re not gonna win the competition y’know.” he tuts. “You still need to work on your form too.”

You groaned, rolling over to get up from the hard tiled floor.

“I kinda don’t care ‘Chan.” you sighed, picking up a towel to dry off.

Your best friend scoffs, whacking you lightly on your exposed shoulder. “Don’t care?” he echoed. “Your scholarship is at risk here. It’s either you win the competition or enslave yourself to years of student loan debt.” he continues dramatically.

You grit your teeth at his comment, knowing that he’s unfortunately right.

Opening your mouth to attempt a witty retort, you’re interrupted by Sungchan’s sudden shout.

“Anton! Anton, over here!” he shrieks.

Anton?

He was known all over campus as the college’s swim team’s captain.

As the proud owner of countless medals, trophies, and certificates, swimming competitions weren’t the only things Anton won.

His signature shy smile was something girls talked about almost every day, giggling and swooning whenever he strode past lecture rooms effortlessly cool.

Not just that, he was well-known amongst teachers for his A* grades and respectful demeanor.

“Anton, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Anton.” Sungchan chirps, tugging the popular boy towards the both of you.

“Nice to meet you.” he says softly, respectfully sticking his hand out for a shake.

“Hi.” you greet back flatly, too tired to really care at the moment.

“So,” Sungchan starts, throwing an arm around Anton’s shoulders. “I’m sure you know about the swimming scholarship event that’s being held next month, right? The one that’s going to be held here.”

Anton nods, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and confusion.

“Yeah, why?”

Sungchan chuckles at this, now throwing his other arm around you. “Well, my friend Y/N here needs that scholarship. But she’s also not the best at swimming. So I was wondering if you could help her out.” he says nonchalantly.

You’re flabbergasted, staring morbidly at Sungchan.

“Um, sure.” Anton replies, smiling. “I don’t mind.”

“Wait, no I didn’t agree to this I don’t really need help on my swimm-“

“Okay, fantastic! I’ll see the both of you here every day after classes. Bye!” Sungchan cheers, cutting off your rambling. You don’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Anton as Sungchan pulls you away with him to the locker rooms.

“Bro, what was that all about?” you sputter in disbelief. “I’m already bad at swimming, I can’t ask someone that talented to waste their time trying to help me!”

Sungchan mimics you talking, picking up your duffel bag and throwing it at you.

“He already agreed, so don’t worry. Now go and shower and change, and we can talk about it over tacos. I’m starving.” he complains, sassily walking out of the locker room.

You groan, resting your forehead against the wall.

What did your best friend just get you into?

Staying true to his word, Anton would show up at the swimming arena every day after classes.

Today was no different as the two of you treaded through the pool.

"You need to remember to keep your legs together and straight when you kick, or else you'll mess up your form really quickly." Anton says, using his fingers to visualize it for you.

"Alright, go ahead and try it again. I'll be right behind you to check your form." he assures.

You nod, taking a deep breath.

With a few seconds to prepare yourself, you push yourself off the wall of the pool and start swimming.

All the noise of the swimming arena drowns out as it becomes just you and the water. You try to keep Anton's words in mind as you swim your way through, your legs propelling you through the crystal clear water.

"How was that?" you ask, catching your breath when you resurface at the end of the pool.

Anton runs a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head. "There's improvement, but you still need to straighten them more. You can't swim as fast as I know you can if you don't." he sighs.

Maybe it was because you were more tired today, but his words pierced a bit at your heart. Tears fill in your eyes as a sense of hopelessness and exasperation pounds at your heart.

"I'm trying," you mumble, sniffling. "I just can't do it."

Anton's pretty eyes widen when he hears your sniffle, quick to move closer to you. "Are you crying?" he asks, concerned.

"No, I'm laughing." you snap sarcastically, turning away from him to hide your tears.

"Hey," he calls softly, turning you to face him. "It's fine. We still have time to improve. And practice makes perfect! I'm sure you'll get it by the time of the competition."

"But what if I don't?" you ask weakly.

Anton shushes you immediately. "Y/N, you got this. The first step to winning is to believe in yourself. Maybe you don't believe in yourself, but I do. I know you got this."

Your heart melts when you look up to see how sincere he's looking at you, eyes full of genuine care and concern.

"Thank you." you mumble, wiping your tears away.

Anton grins, hugging you. "Don't give up. I know you can win this." he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You smile at his words, nodding. "You sound like those... motivational life coaches." you joke.

Anton chuckles, rolling his eyes. "You're welcome then."

"Hey, keep swimming!" Sungchan hollers from the chairs, looking like an upper-class mom with sunglasses perched on his nose and his arms folded. "The competition is in a week!"

Both you and Anton burst out laughing at this, the curly haired boy treading backwards away from you.

"Okay, another lap! Remember, keep your legs straight and believe in yourself!" he calls.

You flash him a thumbs up, taking deep breaths.

And with that, you dive right back into the water.

Embraced by the peace of the water, you can't help but think about how much closer you became with Anton over the past few weeks.

From shy 'good jobs!' to dinners together after practices, he was truly as nice as people said he was.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when the dark blue wall of the swimming pool comes into view, signalling the end of your lap. Resurfacing, you pull yourself out of the pool.

"So? How was that?"

This time around, Anton looks at you with a stunned face.

"What?" you asked, laughing awkwardly.

"Did you just become The Flash or something?" he questions, dumbfounded. "You swam so fast! And your legs were totally straight the entire time! You did it!" he squeals excitedly.

For a moment, you suspect Anton's lying, but Sungchan running over to you while cheering assures you that he's not.

"Only two minutes! That's almost college record timing!" he screams in disbelief, squeezing you in a hug.

You'd hug Sungchan back, but he pulls away, disgusted. "Oh ew, chlorine water on my t-shirt!" he whines.

You giggle at this, turning back to face Anton.

He's laughing too, and your heart skips a beat at the sight. His bright eyes curved into crescents, a soft glow on his pink cheeks while water dripped off his slicked back hair.

"Do it again!" Sungchan urges you. "If you get two minutes again, I'll treat you to sushi, promise."

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. "You better keep your promise." you threaten.

"Because she'll definitely get two minutes again." Anton adds on, his hand stretched out for you to get back into the pool.

God, he was so sweet.

Taking his hand, a wave of newfound determination and hope washes over you.

You got this.

Game day came sooner than you could imagine.

"Come on," Sungchan screeches, excitedly waving around a sign that had your name printed on it. "Swim faster!"

Anton sat beside him, nervously biting his lip as he watched you glide across the swimming pool.

The girl beside you was going slightly faster, threading through the water with perfect form.

Time was closing in fast, and if you managed to swim faster than her by around two seconds, the scholarship would be yours immediately.

The crowd roared in nervous excitement as you caught up to her, now only a mere ten meters away from the endpoint.

Down in the water, your mind raced with thoughts about Anton. He worked so hard to help you; you couldn't let him down now.

So with one more kick and a surge of adrenaline, you pushed forward and swam faster - hitting the end of the pool almost immediately.

Screams and cheers flood your ears the moment you resurface, and when you see no one out of the pool yet, you let out your own scream of joy.

You won; the scholarship was all yours.

You've barely gotten out of the pool when college officials rush up to you, congratulating you and wrapping a towel around you.

"We have a winner!" you hear the emcee announce. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the annual swimming scholarship! Contestant two!"

The crowd cheers for you, and you see Anton cheering along amongst the crowd, happily jumping up and down.

"I knew you could do it!" He mouths to you, beaming.

A warm and unfamiliar feeling settles in your heart as you smile back, waving.

"Coming through! Make way for the winner!" Sungchan announces loudly, shoving his way through the crowd. You and Anton follow after him, giggling.

Sunlight hugs your body the moment you step out of the swimming arena, but it doesn't feel as warm as Anton's arm that was around your shoulders.

"I'm so happy for you!" he gushes, excitedly skipping his way to Sungchan's car. "It's all thanks to you, honestly." you laugh, slightly embarrassed.

Anton clicks his tongue, waving his finger 'no' at you.

"You believed in yourself," he says. "That's why you could win. And you took the initiative to try to win, so you should thank yourself, really."

"Hey, where's my thank you?" Sungchan scoffed as all of you got into his car.

"Thank you." you laugh, buckling up.

"But seriously," Anton says, slipping his hand into yours. "You need to thank yourself. I'm glad I got to teach you."

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you grin as you squeeze his hand.

"And I'm glad I got to meet you."

#riize #riize anton #riize fics #kpop fics #kpop fluff #riize fluff #riize icons #riize moodboard #anton riize #riize drabbles #anton #riize sungchan #riize shotaro #riize eunseok #riize wonbin #riize seunghan #riize sohee

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

Text

NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPE [15]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

» chapter 15: The Lucky One

» Writer's note: I'll meet you in the end.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx

@cepolar @freespirit-51 @marialikescherries @superswaggycooch @lunasmindinwriting @shadysandwichghoul @contrastedfandom @alexxcorona113 @951am @jinsoulorbitzen12 @books-loverss @l0verl4ne @kypostsblog @bluberrycheezk @hottieluvr @calcaneous @444jodie @dudde-44 @neysgf @wallflowerjournal @p4rkyonce @toclic @kyliannnkkk @mad-die45 @mentalbaddie @karotland @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @kymb-10

Taylor’s phone didn’t ring again that night, probably because it had died again while she was exchanging a quick laugh with Ethan. Kylian was sitting far away from her, close to his father and the distance was helping keep themselves in check. Kylian’s mother was in deep conversation with Beth, while Lily was playing around the backyard with Kylian’s nephew and niece, like they were old time friends. The celebration dinner was at his family’s house and it wasn’t just them, close friends and family, even Neymar had come along with his sister and there drinks and champagnes and music to numb away the awkwardness she would have felt otherwise.

“hope you’re not planning on drinking that.” She said while Ethan opened a bottle of Coca-Cola. He turned to her raising his eyebrows.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Don’t care if you shower with it but you are not drinking it, you already had one—”

“you’re not being serious—”

“Dead Serious.” She said, remaining calm and strict. Ethan searched Kylian with his eyes for his help and caught him looking at them, with a smile on his face. He huffed and puffed and left the bottle down, pushing it away from him. “Good boy.”

“Ms. Wilock!” She turned in the sound of her name, Kylian’s father, Wilfred, stood behind her and very quickly took the seat the next to hers, a glass of champagne in his hand. “I hear you are one of the new teachers in the academy. I hope my son is not giving you a hard time.”

“Which of the two?” she let the joke slip, hating herself the minute that she said it out loud. “I mean—when I was with Kylian—coaching him I mean—he was harder—more difficult—” she smiled “Ethan’s fine.”

“Yeah… you and Kylian had your moments, I remember. I mean it does make sense, doesn’t it?”

She was confused “what does?”

“I mean after everything you had written about him; you didn’t expect for you two to just be friends, right away, did you?” he laughed.

Her expression fell. She thought that she was done explaining herself for her work, seemed not. “Me and Kylian have moved passed that.”

“That’s nice. Cause I’ve seen you’ve rebranded your website. You are back at writing, aren’t you?”

“You fear I will turn against your son again?”

“Will you?”

“I was never against your son in the first place. I was simply doing my job. I’ll continue doing it.”

“I guess we ought to be careful of you then. Keep you close enough.”

His smile while he was being bitter was annoying her. He was pretty much an extra version of Kylian, sarcastic and passive aggressive to the point that it wasn’t so passive anymore. She took a deep breath in and forced a smile on her face “like I said, me and Kylian are not bitter with each other anymore, there’s no need to worry.”

“On the contrary that makes me worry even more.” He tilted his head to the side, looked in her eyes “Les rumeurs sont dangereuses.”

She understood the saying. It was one that made perfect sense in any language, rumors are dangerous and terrible and cruel and, in this case, what was worse is that they were true.

“Sir.”

“My number one job is looking after my kids and I always look after them. Especially when I think they are making a mistake.”

“He said you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t” he answered coldly. He moved closer, so only he could hear her “there’s no version of this that either of you survive the war they’re gonna have on you. Kylian’s reputation is hanging by a thread—”

“That’s because of PSG—”

“I hope that it will never be because of you.”

Kylian was watching them with the corner of his eye, he caught Taylor turning her napkin into hundreds tiny pieces and he knew something was off by her expression. Plus, he knew his father and that he wasn’t going to go easy on her. He got up quickly and went to join the conversation but she got up and left before he had the chance to say anything. Kylian looked at his father, raising his eyebrows.

“What did you say to her?”

“I just asked some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

Wilfred stood up, fixing his tie “il faut être prudent” [you must be careful]

"de quoi ?" [of what?]

“Tu crois que je ne sais pas la vérité sur vous deux ?” [You think I don’t know what’s going on between you two?]

“Pa—”

“C'est dangereux!” he said a little louder.

Kylian’s mother joined their conversation, worried about the tension. That’s when he saw taylor picking up her sister’s stuff and leaving. He excused himself and went after her, stopping her just before she got in the car to drive away with her family.

“Whatever he said to you—”

“Lily is tired that’s why we are leaving.”

“you’re lying”

“Maybe but I’ve heard enough truths today and they are not any better so what’s the difference—”

“Taylor!”

“I’ll see you back at the house.” She said, but there was something bitter in her voice, like she wasn’t as excited and if her family wasn’t here, she wouldn’t have gone to the house at all. Maybe it was the way she kept saying house, instead of home. She left him stranded on the sidewalk, rubbing his head while she drove out of the gates.

“merde” he mumbled, turning around to get back in his old family home. That when he noticed his mother by the door, arms crossed to her chest, looking at him like he was 12 again and he had just done something bad on accident or said something before filtering himself and she was going to give him a lecture about it. Yet now that he was older, she didn’t have to say what she was thinking with words, to know what she was thinking. She was smiling, a comforting mother’s smile. She could have said all the things in the world, all the advices and worries and fears. Instead, all she said was;

“Your father used to look at me that way.”

And it summed up everything.

KYLIAN’S HOUSE – NIGHT

The floor creaked as he stepped in the bedroom. Taylor’s figure laid covered under the blue sheets on her side of the bed, sleeping. He walked around the bed just so he could catch a glimpse of her face, she looked calmer than before. He thought about waking her, maybe he would have because all he wanted to do was cuddle. He leaned closer, his head on her chest so he could hear her heartbeat, he smiled but his smile faded when he heard steps from inside the living room. He rushed in on his tiptoes and he couldn’t see anyone at first, then one of the chairs was dragged across the floor and for a moment he believed in ghost until he remembered, there was a tiny person staying his apartment now. He saw Lily climbing up on the chair and reaching for the cupboards

“Excuse me ma’am—” Lily jumped a little when she heard him and turned around to face him. She looked at her feet like she was guilty and Kylian smiled. “looking for something?” he walked closer to her and got one of the glasses. “water?” he asked and she nodded so he filled up the glass and gave it to her. He helped her down from the chair and she went and sat on the couch. He raised his eyebrow and followed her, sitting next to her. “can’t sleep?” he asked and she shook her head. Kylian looked at the time, it was 5am. He took one of the blankets and covered her body, keeping her warm. “do you usually wake up at this hour?”

“Mhm.” She answered, drinking her water.

“You want me to get mum?”

“no.”

He clicked his lips and watched at the little girl carefully. Then he looked at the table and grabbed the t remote, opening the television and Netflix. Lily moved closer to him when he did that and she started shaking her head as he passed through all the options until he reached a show called “INBESTIGATORS”. She moved her head up and down at that and cuddled closer to him while the tv played low in the background and it’s light filled the room. Soon he was asleep, with her next to him.

Taylor was worried when she realized he wasn’t next to her in the morning. She rubbed her eyes and put on her robe, went inside the living room. She caught a glimpse of his head laying on couch, the tv playing a kid’s show and she went closer. There was something adorable about the sight, him with her sister, asleep. She wondered how the hell they even ended up like that. She would have asked if it wasn’t for her phone ringing from inside the bedroom. Her ringtone was loud so she ran inside to pick it up before anyone else woke up.

“hello?” she asked, almost breathless.

“Ms. Wilock?”

“yes.”

“I’m coach Wiegman, remember me?”

She thought she was still in a dream because in what world was the head coach of the national English team calling and asking if she remembered her. “of course.” She laughed and sat on her bed “Wha-what can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could meet during the week. We can talk about Australia”

“this week?”

“Yes.”

She shut her eyes, rubbing her forehead “i—I’m not in England. I’m in paris.”

“You’re working for Paris-saint Germaine again?”

She hesitated “kinda.”

“So you’re not available?"

She wanted to scream “no I am- we can—give me some time, and I’ll contact you again by Monday. Would that be ok?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you.”

She jumped when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Turned around quickly to look at him, he looked sleepy and exhausted, so much so that she wondered what time he slept last night. He stroked her shoulder, letting out a yawn. “all good?” he asked and she had no idea what to answer. Should she admit her happiness? How would that work considering that her happiness would take her away from him? Was she supposed to lie and pretend? Did she really want any more lies between them? Any more bitterness?

She went for the third option, fell in his arms and hugged him as tight as she could, cause he had grown to be so important to her in so many ways. Kylian accepted the hug, no questions asked and puled her closer, giving her the comfort she needed. He kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry about my dad."

“I’m sorry for running out.”

He snorted “we are getting better at this” he mumbled in her hair and she smiled.

“Maybe.” She paused, closed her eyes “but it’s still going to fast.”

She felt him tense in her arms and pull back, there was this expression on his face like he wanted to know more and wanted to change the subject at the same time. She didn’t even know where to begin, all she could say was “they called me from London.”

“About what?”

She never got to finish what she was saying. Lily had gotten up and so had Beth. Taylor rushed inside to help them with everything. Kylian sat on the bed, looked at her spot and he could swear, he could already see her shape disappearing.

They were the best at ignoring situations and pretending everything is alright, so that’s what they did while Beth and lily were staying with them. It was a sort of silent agreement between them. Taylor would spend most of her time with them, driving them around her favorite places and then Lily would tell Kylian all about it when she’d get back home. Taylor would watch them laughing together from the other corner of the room and she liked the view more than she liked to admit.

“Are you going to come back to england with Tay?” she asked him while sitting on his lap. Taylor almost dropped the glass she was washing when she heard the question and looked at them from the kitchen. She didn’t know if they knew that she could hear them so she remained completely still, waiting for kylian to respond, unaware of why she cared as much for his answer.

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded. “I want you both.”

Kylian smiled “you miss her?”

“Sometimes. But it’s nice to have this nice house too.”

“Well, you can come any time, even when you are grown.” He rubbed his nose against hers and she laughed.

“Can I bring all my friends too?”

“All of them. Every single one.”

“Thank you Kyky!” she dropped her body on his and laid on his chest. Kylian rubbed her back, enjoying the moment.

“You won’t have to miss your sister for too long, I think.” He whispered and she heard it.

The day they left taylor took the long way back to the house, it’s like she knew that she’d face a storm once she got there, they both would. She never told him about the offer, even though she was certain that she’d take it. Yet, deep down she felt like he already knew at least some of the truth or had figured it out by himself.

She put the keys on the lock, unlocking slowly, expecting a wave to hit her the minute she was inside the leaving room. She was met with the familiar sound of tv playing on the background and Kylian’s figure sitting and chilling on his side of the couch. She walked slowly over to him and left the keys on the table, neither of them saying anything at all to each other. They watched television, ignoring the demons sitting in between them. The episode was over and they had to make a decision, keep going like this or talking. Kylian was the one that reached for the remote and shut off the television before the next episode started.

Silence. Who knew silence could be so cold?

“When are you leaving?” he asked and somehow the question was colder. She cuddled herself, shrinking in her corner of the couch.

“how much do you know?”

He bit his lip and looked at his hands “I spoke with Jude.” She scoffed and got up, annoyed. “you weren’t exactly talking to me Taylor—”

“So you decided to go behind my back like you’ve always done—”

“What was your plan? Packing up and leaving without saying anything at all?”

“You really think I’d do that?” she asked, louder.

“I don’t know. I mean I thought we were better at this, right? But turns out our communication is still as shit as it used to be the day we met—”

“Maybe that means something!” she shouted.

“like what?”

“That this—” she waved their hand between them “this is not supposed to be like this.”

Kylian looked in her eyes, hoping to find a lie in her eyes, an excuse to believe that she didn’t mean what she said but she did. And what’s worse is that she was right. He had given her so much, so quick, on hopes that it would make up for all the reasons that they couldn’t be together. He was trying to fix a sinking ship with paper towels. She approached him, slowly, sitting next to him and reaching for his hands, interlocking her fingers with him.

“your father never said anything offensive really. He just held up a mirror. Rumors are a dangerous thing. Honestly I don’t know if he’s trying to protect you or me.” She brushed her thumb over his skin, she was going to miss this feeling. “You did so much for me ever since I came back and I want to offer the same and I can’t because I don’t have it. I’m not talking about material things, I’m talking about myself” she paused “this has been one of the happiest periods of my life but you know me. I can’t stay in one place for to long and I can’t be following you around forever either.” she sighed “I can’t be Mbappe’s girlfriend, at least not now that I’m starting out.” She smiled, thinking of her small successes “the website is doing great. If I go to Australia for the world cup, I can journal so many more teams and have so much more stuff to talk about. Maybe a stable position in the national team.”

“you should go.” He whispered.

She raised her head immediately. Found his eyes. He meant it.

He moved his fingers so he’d be holding her hand better and forced a smile on his face. “I was the reason you lost one chance at this, I’m not going to be the reason you lose a second. You should go, and I’ll even help you pack your bags before you change your mind.” He stroked her cheek, his thumb stroking over the tears that had appeared under her eyes “cause it’s what you deserve. A career bigger than anything I could ever give you.”

She sniffed back the tears but that didn’t really help. She wiped them away and looked deep in his eyes, held his face in her small hands.

“you were my little death.” She whispered, her voice breaking and he lowered his head at her confession because it was to heavy for him. So she held his face tighter and forced him to look at her while she continued “we did so much good for each other. I didn’t even know what being in love was like before you” She smiled “and now I’ll always love you like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He smiled, holding on her hands. He used to be scared of love himself. He used to be afraid of loving people, terrified that that alone would hurt them eventually. He had a choice of loving her enough to let her go and he would.

“Me too.” He said in between his sobs and leaned his forehead on hers, needing to be as close to her as possible. “Ma petite mort.” They were both crying, both letting it sink in that this was not the time for them and that was ok. She’d go. He’d stay and they would be ok.

The next week passed by quickly. She was happy that she was there for the announcement of Kylian getting assigned as Captain for his National Team. She was there when she got the call confirming it and jumped on him the minute he hanged up. She didn’t let him go that night, not because it was one of their last nights together but because she wanted him to always remember what her embrace felt like. She stroked his hair while he stayed wrapped around her, his head laid on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She had a unique kind of rhythm; he had memorized it. Making sure that it always beat as it should be. That was the last celebration the shared together and not through long distance text messages that were kept short on purpose in an attempt to save each other the heartbreak. Of course, they, didn’t even know that.

Kylian tickled her under the sheets and she fought with him, trying to roll away and save herself from his annoying fingers. He enjoyed listening to that laugh, he wanted to record it and use it as an alarm in the morning. Taylor grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop and rolled on top of him, holding his hands down. He looked up at her, smiling because he was enjoying the view.

“You’re being naughty.”

“I have to annoy you while I still have the time.”

She lowered her body, reaching his lips and pecking them softy “you’ll be annoying me way after I’m gone for a long long time.” She whispered.

“really?” he smirked “how is that?” he slid his hand away from her hold and let it hover over her hips.

She licked her lips, already feeling the torture piling up, already needing him. “you’re really going to make me say it?”

He other hand reached under the blanket, his fingers gently brushing up and down her spine. She wanted to slap that smirk of his face. “you’re gonna get all shy on me now?”

“I don’t get shy.” She shook her head, biting her bottom lip “and I told you the day we met I don’t get intimidated either.”

“So, tell me.” He hand moved closer to her thigh and she gulped. She let her body fall next to his and reached for his hand under the sheets, interlocking her fingers with his. She pulled it closer to her body and down to her inner thigh and she smiled when she saw him getting serious.

“you’ll annoy me because I’ll never be able to forget your touch.” She moved closer, her lips barely touching his “ever.” She whispered and he took it as an initiative to touch her, the only way he knew how. His fingers crawled under her underwear and made direct contact with her clit, pushing and stroking lightly while she tilts her body back, enjoying it, taking it. He moved over her, his lips on her neck, licking and biting on her skin, just under her ear. The thought that anybody else would be doing these things to her was driving him insane and if anyone else had to make her feel like that, then he had to remain the best, the most memorable.

She gasped for air as he slid his fingers inside her, while his lips remained on hers, sucking on her. He could take her life right now and she wouldn’t complain. She wouldn’t say anything, she’d let him do it. But maybe that’s what was so dangerous about them, how easily they’d ruin themselves just to have each other. When he got his fingers out, she tasted herself from him and he grinned as she did that. He took off her night gown, revealing her body, the body that he had grown to love in ways that he’d never be able to put in words. He could only show her by worshipping as he had done on the first night, in her small messy apartment. The night when he felt a threat about this woman and it was never about the reports, it was because she could see through him, he had allowed her too without even realizing it. He left open-mouthed kisses on her stomach while she messed with his short curls, the only fingers that were allowed to touch them and mess with them as they pleased.

She thought of how his dirty mouth on the first day they met had cursed her and how now he made her feel like she was a holy prayer in between those very same lips. She thought of how she had tried to refuse these lips and failed it’s time because if it was a sin, it was the most heavenly one she had committed and she knew that in one way or another she’d commit it again.

They reached their climax together while he was inside her and they held on each other, making a note of this moment in their heads. He let his body fall on hers while they breathed loudly on each other’s ear, like they had just come out of the ocean. One last time, so they’d always remember killing each other and bringing each other back to life repeatedly.

Next night was her last in Paris...

They arranged a dinner, this time she wasn’t going leave without saying goodbye to her favorite people. They sat on Kylian’s living room. Kylian was sitting on the couch and she was sitting on the floor in between his legs, her one had tight around his leg and the other holding a glass of the finest red wine that Kylian could have found.

“I think Leo is relieved.” Said Kylian, pointing at his teammate.

Messi laughed, shaking his head “I’m just happy I won’t have to be wary of catching you two together on the showers anymore.”

Taylor chocked on one of the chips she was swallowing when he said that. She started coughing, bending forward while Kylian patter her back repeatedly to help her. She took a deep breath, clearing her throat and looked at Leo and Antonella. Leo had a smirk on his face, Antonella was sipping on her wine like giving a playful look back at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Neymar was laughing like a kid, that obnoxious loud laugh of his. Kylian, stroked her shoulder, comforting her. “Leo was there one of the times you and I—you know—”

“NO, he wasn’t!”

“I wasn’t there for the whole thing, no.”

“I—” she struggled, she wanted to hide under the couch and never come out at all “you mean—did he? When—where—oh my god I wanna die.”

“Hey listen it’s ok!” said Neymar, filling his mouth with enough chips “you’re not the first ones he’s catching in action—”

“I’m gonna throw up.” She looked at Kylian “you knew about this?”

“He kinda told me after you left.”

“Told you what?”

“He had seen us a couple of times—”

“A COUPLE OF TIMES?” She got up, walking back and forth in the room. Even Antonella was laughing now, but perhaps the most comedic one of all was Ramos, who had stayed with his mouth half open and a piece of chocolate cake on his hand, looking between all the people on the room. Kylian noticed it, nodding towards him.

“You ok man?”

“You two dated before she came back from England?”

“he’s only getting that now?” Asked Neymar, looking at Antonella.

“You boys are known for your quick passing, not quick thinking.” She said, smiling. Neymar rolled his eyes.

“What matters is that I was the first to figure it out.” Said Neymar, raising his glass.

“Hm.” Messi tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes “pretty sure I caught them before you figured it out.”

Neymar looked at him annoyed. “no you didn’t.”

The two started arguing about it. Taylor sat on Kylian’s lap, getting comfortable while Ramos joined the argument, complaining that they should have let him in on the secret. They were like little boys, her boys. Kylian kissed her cheek, while he watched them as well and the two cuddled as close at they could to each other. “I’ll miss this.” She admitted and he smiled.

No one wanted to leave that night. The boys started playing FIFA around 1am, promising that they’d stop every five minutes but it was already 4am and they were still playing, drunk and loudly. Taylor started cleaning up, hoping that that would get em getting up soon. Antonella caught up on it and started helping. The two of them ended up alone in the kitchen over the sink. Taylor was washing and Antonella was drying the dishes, wiping them with a towel.

“it’s a huge opportunity. I have Jude to thank for that.”

“And yourself. Don’t forget that.” She said and taylor looked up at her, handing her another dish “Jude helped but if it wasn’t for your talent and your hard work, you wouldn’t be getting anything. Humans tend to forget that, give more credit to other than they do to themselves.”

Taylor smiled “yeah I guess you’re right.” She looked behind her at the boys on the couch, she could only see half his face but it was enough considering tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to see any of it “but people really help each other, don’t they? One person can make such a huge difference.”

“It doesn’t have to be the end, you know?”

She looked at Antonella “doesn’t it?”

“No.” she smiled. She looked to where Taylor was looking before “I’ve been where you are now, in a way. Look at us now.” She looked back at Taylor “the first time he left for Barcelona I couldn’t imagine we’d end like this. First loves work out only in movies and books.” She grinned “I was wrong.”

Taylor felt a tear roll down her eyes, she wiped it away quickly, forcing a smile on her face “you were lucky.”

“Maybe. But anyone who has felt love like this is as lucky as us and luck may take time but if you have it, it always works out in the end. When it’s supposed to be.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Neymar was the last one to leave. Taylor helped to his car when his driver arrived. He stopped out of it and looked at her, smiling. “I knew you had it in you the day I met you.”

“Did you?” she asked, smiling.

“I won’t say goodbye.” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Because we will see each other again soon. Some sort of award show, Balloon d’or.” She laughed, looking up at him.

“What am I getting it for?”

“You’ll be head coach of national team one day.”

“Oh really? You think so?”

“I know so. We’ll be on the sidelines.”

“Neymar Jr. on the sidelines—“

“Don’t forget Leo.”

“Of course, how silly of me, Neymar Jr and Lionel Messi, on the sidelines. It sounds like the beginning of a really bad joke.”

He shrugged “you’ll see.”

“I’m sure.” She smiled and stepped forward, tying her arms around him. “I’ll miss you no matter how long it takes to see you again. Do me a favor.”

“What?” he whispered in her hair.

“Don’t give up yet. Your final game, it needs to be somewhere you are respected, with both your feet on the ground. It needs to be a show to be hold and I wanna be there for it.”

He was crying too now. He pulled back and smiled at her through the tears, he nodded “deal.”

When everyone left, they made a cup of coffee for each and sat on the balcony. Watching the sunrise, cuddled with each other. little Luna was laying curled up in a ball I between them. They agreed of her going to the airport alone and skipping over the melodrama, they didn’t want to have that memory and they promised this would be their last memory together, laughing and talking about work while the sun came up. Taylor realized in that moment she wasn’t afraid of daylight finding them together anymore and if the sun dared to ask what she was doing, she’d answer in one breath “loving him.” And in her heart, she knew that he’d answer exactly the same and that was enough.

It wasn’t short time, he thought while he tangled his fingers with hers and hid his face on her hair, it was a whole life that they’d eventually live again, maybe somewhere else, as different people.

“You sure you don’t wanna take her?” he asked, while Taylor was petting luna behind her ear.

“I’m afraid she’d find London incredibly dull.” She whispered “she’s a true parisian.” she smiled "take good care of her please."

He smiled and squeezed her closer to him. "i will."

“And Don’t let Real Madrid go. Chase it, PSG is comfortable but every golden cage is.”

“on one condition.” He spoke.

“I’m listening.”

“No matter how many years. You’ll be there for my first match with Real Madrid, no matter where and how we are.”

She smiled, looked at the sun and the orange sky. Luna moved a little, getting more comfortable, she squinted her eyes so she wouldn’t go completely blind by the sun. How romantic,she thought. She knew exactly what to say.

“I promise.”

Ummmmmm.... It's over? I guess so. It feels so weird having spent so much time with you and these characters to just let go. I got to meet so many people because of this story and made incredible friends. It helped me bring back my creativity and have fun and allowed me to be spontaneous. What started as a one shot finished as a 200+ pages and 116.000k+ words. It's insane. Thank you for allowing me to turn a silly fan fiction into a whole ass novel and have the time of my life 🥺 it was an insane ride and i can't wait to hear your final thoughts and feelings on the story. You think Taylor keeps her promise in the end? Are they going to meet again? Will their love story be as epic as the one of Antonella and Messi? We'll see 🫣

#newromanticsfic #mbappe x reader #football writing #mbappe imagines #imagines #psg #paris saint germain #football imagine #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe one shot

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