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inherdaze · 2 months

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jungle — kiyoomi sakusa

kiyoomi x f reader

18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy

summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.

There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over.

Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat.

“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”

You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”

“The Sakusa family?”

“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.

“He’s coming home.”

“From the war?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.”

She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely.

She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.”

“Why? For dinner?”

“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”

You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”

“We’ve been exchanging letters.”

Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death.

She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”

You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed.

“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?”

You hum and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a pause.

“When will he be here?”

Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.

“Tomorrow.”

You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs.

The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky.

As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.

You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.

“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.

You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.

Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.

The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market.

“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.”

“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”

She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.”

She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.

The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around.

You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times.

You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor?

Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.

You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.

When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent.

Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—

“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.

“Hi… hi.”

He stares at you blankly.

“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back.

“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”

“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you.

He doesn't.

As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there.

You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.

You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind.

Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived.

You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived.

She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you.

“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”

Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens.

“My apologies, miss.”

The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think.

His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”

He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions.

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides.

“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”

She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup.

The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter.

The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well.

You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already.

To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things.

Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”

By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.”

You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second.

Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder.

Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you.

“How are the vegetables doing?”

“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward.

You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven).

You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.”

Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.”

The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home.

The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.

You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass.

Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold!

After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.

Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants.

You drop the bucket.

“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”

You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.

You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.”

It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic.

“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.

“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.”

You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him.

“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.

He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.

He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too.

The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves.

“I’ve already forgiven you.”

“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”

He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated.

“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.”

He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.

You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.

Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that).

He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning.

When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless.

You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has.

There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do).

The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead.

In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away.

Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.

“Talk to them,” You encourage.

He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”

“Ask them how they are.”

Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.”

You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”

He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.

When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.

You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help.

“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.”

“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.”

“How so?”

He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside.

When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you.

“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.”

Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively.

“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi.

He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.”

“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.”

The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response.

After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean.

Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright.

“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion.

“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.”

He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.”

You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue.

Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.”

He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter.

“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.”

That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts.

“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.”

You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay.

Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.”

It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out.

You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.”

The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed.

You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way.

He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on.

You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love.

You peer down into the pot.

“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.”

He bites his cheek at your dramatics.

You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way.

He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.”

You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again.

He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste.

When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own.

Your fingers twitch.

“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.”

You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes.

You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut.

You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—

“I’ve arrived early!”

The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor.

“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen.

She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.

“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.”

He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.

“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”

At that, a smile slips onto your face.

“Yes. Cook with love.”

When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love.

You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share.

The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable.

Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.

You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you.

“Let me help.”

Your cheeks burn.

He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?”

It’s a little loose.

“Tighter, please.”

He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching.

“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure.

It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you).

You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one.

The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space.

On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand.

You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door.

You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him.

The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs.

Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers.

“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.”

“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you.

“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay).

“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.”

Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush.

Finally, he fesses up.

“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.”

You see Kiyoomi make a face.

“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.”

“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens.

“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?”

The both of you choke.

You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening.

“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”

“Don’t be like that, Omi.”

“Miya.”

“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”

“You are unbearable.”

Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated.

“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.”

You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes.

After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way.

When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.

You only hum in response.

Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around.

You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe.

As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around.

You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward.

“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole.

“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi.

“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.

Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—”

“Miya.”

“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.”

He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush.

Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you.

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side.

In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.

“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.”

He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly.

“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left.

“Miya told me to confess to you.”

Your blood runs cold. Confess…?

Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it.

You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room.

When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day.

He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously.

“I wish you could come with me.”

You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile.

“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say.

“Goodnight, angel.”

Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does).

The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done.

As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it.

(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).

Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.

One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy.

The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door.

Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige.

You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely.

When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.

“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.”

And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you.

“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day.

The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in.

“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.”

His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.”

Your mouth drops open.

Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.

Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.”

You stay rooted still.

“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.

He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.”

It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together.

(He wants to).

It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt.

“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”

He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him.

It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please.

Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear.

He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.

His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name.

He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in.

“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”

Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!”

He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.”

You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll.

You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you.

Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly.

“I love you, Kiyoomi.”

He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you.

In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!”

“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.”

You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes.

“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?”

You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again.

“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.”

He gives an approving cluck.

You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand.

“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe.

“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around.

“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock.

“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.”

“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”

“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately.

“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips.

“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?”

You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.”

“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.”

You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love.

Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.

As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you.

“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.”

You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip.

“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”

“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!”

“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!”

“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—”

The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own.

Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa fluff

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slavicviking · 1 year

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Dipping my toes in the ‘oblivious Eddie has no functioning gaydar which results in mild miscommunication’ genre of the Steddie experience, hope you enjoy!

Ao3 extended version

“My, my, are my eyes deceiving me? Steve Harrington himself has graced these sinful halls?”

Instead of a sneer Eddie’s been expecting, Steve’s face lights up with a smile. He lifts his hand to wave at him with much more enthusiasm than expected. Which is… weird since they have maybe talked once when the guy picked up Eddie’s new freshmen from Hellfire. Well, almost as weird as meeting a Harington in a gay bar itself.

“Munson, hi!”

A little dumb-founded, Eddie waves back weakly, his eyes catching the sight of Robin Buckley at the bar behind them. Ah, so there’s the reason Harrington’s here.

“You’re here as an ally, I presume.”

“Uhm, yeah I guess so?” Steve pouts, confused, before smiling again. “You too, then?”

“Sure, let’s say that.”

“Hey, you should sit with us,” Harrington grins as if that’s actually a good idea. Before Eddie manages to think of an excuse, he’s being dragged towards Buckley by the sleeve. “Come on.”

“Munson,” Robin nods at him in greeting, something akin to a mischievous smirk on her face. Why, he doesn’t begin to understand.

“You look good, by the way,” a deep voice whispers into his ear as they set off towards the tables and Eddie has to do everything for his soul not to leave his body. Steve… is being way friendlier than expected. But that’s what it is, he has to remind himself before it gets too dangerous, just guys being dudes.

The ‘us’ in question turns out to be more than just the bizarre Harrington-and-Buckley duo. There’s Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers and some tall guy with the best hair he’s seen, not counting Harrington of course, bless his hair-sprayed soul. They don’t seem all that surprised he’s here at all which - fair enough, but also that he’s here at this table and that he doesn’t know how to explain. Nancy Wheeler, though, ever the enigma keeps shooting him loaded glances. He’s pretty sure she sniffed out his embarrassing crush on, ugh, Steve Harrington and she’s- Jealous maybe? Probably? As if there is a universe where he, Eddie Munson, poses a threat to someone like Nancy fucking Wheeler.

Steve sits himself closest to Eddie, maybe because he’s feeling guilty - as he should be - about throwing him into a table full of basically-strangers or maybe for a different, Harrington-unexplainable reason. The point is, he’s close, Eddie can smell his aftershave and cigarettes and it’s the best and worst thing that’s happened to him.

He keeps talking, too, asking Eddie questions about DnD (and isn’t that a head-scratcher in itself) and what conditioner he’s using because he really likes his hair (as if Steve wasn’t the embodiment of every shampoo commercial ever made). The gin-and-tonic Eddie’s been sipping must’ve been stronger than he thought because he swears he hears Steve saying something like ‘I don’t know, I think you’re really pretty’ at one point.

Eddie is starting to wonder if Harrington, perhaps, has been replaced with a pod person.

There’s a few more attempts at small talk from Steve but Eddie’s too confused and trying so hard to not be hopeful because a second edition of a pathetic crush on a straight dude (Steve, his mind supplies helpfully) is going to be too painful. Harrington seems kind of down afterwards, sliding off his chair and towards the bar which leaves Eddie with an infamous Buckley glare. Followed by an aggravating assault to his shin.

“Ow, Jesus, what the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Robin is quick to retort. “What’s your problem? I thought you had a crush on him! It’s frankly kind of fucking obvious.”

Okay, whoa, rude.

“I don’t,” Eddie sneers back but falters when she levels him with a blank stare. “Fine, I do. Whatever. Way to kick a man when he’s down.”

“Dingus, he’s been all over you for the last hour. He’s been flirting like crazy and you, for some reason, keep shooting him down, what the hell?”

“But-” But he’s straight. Right? He turns to see Steve at the bar and - oh, there’s some guy with curly hair touching Steve’s arm and Steve’s smiling and blushing and- “What?”

That won’t do.

“Go get your man,” Robin says, practically shoving him off his stool to emphasize her point. Eddie scrambles from the floor, ignores the intense looks from the rest of the table and marches towards the bar.

“I’m coming, Stevie.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #st fanfic #ficlet #my writing

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cherry-leclerc · 3 months

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back to you ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, oldmoney!reader, strangers to lovers

word count: 3.1k

Fixated from the moment he first saw you, Carlos stays missing someone whom he never even properly met. But that all seems to change one night when you unexpectedly show up to a business dinner.

req!... i'm such a liar lmaooo (iykyk). hope you enjoy, my lil anons :) hope this heals some of the heartbreak we all endured today !!(*bashes head against keyboard*)

It almost seemed like you had something up your sleeve, a tactic to retrieve all of his attention away from the camera shoved right in front of him - media duties.

“Hello guys, just wanted to come on here to say that I think we gave it all we could during today’s race but there is definitely always room for improvement…” Blah, blah, blah.

He can’t quite figure out what he’s saying because his brown eyes are attached to the pretty girl walking right in front of him. Not behind him, trying to catch up. Not besides him, begging for a photo. Nope, right in front of him as if you could care less that you have one of the most popular drivers to ever exist almost chasing after you.

He could hear you mumbling about God knows what to the girl walking besides you. The Spaniard feels like a total creep when it comes to him becoming more alert to possibly catch your name. As you were saying? The media team manager stares back expectantly once Carlos blanks out. Though it wasn’t that unusual.

The 29 year old flickers his gaze back to the camera and then back to where you were, only except, you’re gone. Out of sight and his heart stops for a nanosecond.

“Onto the next week. Vamos.”

“So then, you have your upcoming shoot for the new fireproofs, testing, stimulator - if we have time, interview at…”

Carlos tunes out as he blinks at the never ending list as if it were just another Monday. Charles nods attentively, though he also looks far too uninterested. They were exhausted.

“And dinner tonight to meet our new sponsors.”

“Another one?” Charles asks, a slight crack in voice as he tries to pretend he wasn’t at all annoyed. “We just had one last night.”

Maria musters up a stern look. “Yes, again. They’re a lovely family, so we want to impress them with two well-behaved drivers.” The Ferrari boys swallow their laughter as they nod their heads. Got it.

It takes all of Carlos’ remaining willpower to get ready for dinner that night. On the way to the small Italian restaurant, he second guesses even showing up. He could fake a fever. A sore throat. Shaking his head, he curses as he steps out of his custom Ferrari.

“Oh good, I thought it was just going to be me,” Charles jokes as soon as he spots the Spaniard. Carlos chuckles before greeting the team. About 10 minutes go by before the Monegasque grows impatient as a child. I could have finished watching my movie.

“Shut up,” Fred murmurs before abruptly standing up from his seat. “Ah! È così bello rivedere finalmente te e la tua famiglia!” Choking on his champagne, Charles scrunches his nose before flying up and introducing himself. Carlos bites back a smile as he follows his lead.

And there he sees you, standing elegantly with a silk dress that looks as soft as your skin. You’re smiling sweetly at everyone, stepping in to not just shake their hands, but also go in for a small hug. Your mother and father repeat the same action, though they later focus all of their attention on Fred and Maria.

The Monegasque kicks his teammate’s shin. Carlos winces as he shoots fiery daggers. “We hit the jackpot.”

“What?”

Charles' shoulders drop theatrically. “Are you kidding me? Are we looking at the same girl right now or are you just blind?”

But he did see you, and he never quite forgot about you since that day. He could feel the tips of his ear burn bright red as you made your way over to him and his teammate. Charles, so nice to meet you, the green eyed boy beams before going in for a hug. You smile from ear to ear.

“Nice to meet you, too! I must admit; I’m a little starstruck right now.” Charles blushes fast as he stutters his way around such a compliment, even if he’s received thousands of the same one before. “Ah, this is Carlos.”

“Hello,” he feels himself saying. “Carlos, nice to meet you.” As soon as you look up at him, his breath hitches and fears you might feel his sweaty palms flourishing against your soft ones. And if you do, you choose to ignore it as you share a small smile, the kind you share when you see someone after 15 years.

The kind that seems forced.

“Ditto.”

With one last glance, you excuse yourself before making your way over to where your parents and Fred chatter about upcoming plans. Carlos blinks. “Wow. No hug,” Charles points out. “That’s weird. She was basically giving them out for free.”

“Be quiet.”

The remainder of the night you kept to yourself, occasionally inputting your own opinion with a polite smile drawn onto your fruit punch lips. Very well mannered, Fred would approve as you would bow your head with shyness. Carlos quirked a brow of curiosity.

He wondered what he might’ve done wrong. Had he been too forward? Cold? Often, his parents would claim he could be like that sometimes, so maybe? He wasn’t clinging onto the fact that he was the only one who didn’t receive a warm greeting from you, but he was left with questions.

“E tu, tesoro?”

“What about me?” you repeat, hair fanning along your face like a shiny curtain. Maria chuckles. How do you feel about being a part of this new chapter? You think about it for a second before settling with the safest answer. “Very proud, there’s nothing better than tying links with such a superior team.” Fred roars with genuine laughter as he pats your father’s shoulder. Smart girl.

“Why fine jewelry?”

“Pardon?”

The inquiry was directed towards your parents - who would clearly have the answer - but his eyes were trained on you, leaving you to fend for yourself. Lips part slowly as you connect with Carlos’ intense attention. “I’m curious, that’s all. I’m delighted we have you as our sponsors, but I was just wondering what made you dive into the business? Must be hard.”

Squinting your eyes, you click your tongue. It’s in our blood, your father’s voice cuts your train of thought. It’s what we do, what we love. But his warm gaze sticks to you like hot glue. You clear your throat before returning to your wide smile.

“I think it’s safe to say that diamonds are beautiful. They are scarily so crystal clear that for a moment one might search for a trace of color. And then they do come in other colors, so it’s really no problem,” you say, soft chuckles circling the table. “But I believe it’s also safe to say that we don’t often think about how they got here, shining around many ring fingers.” Your mother approves as she shows her mind-blowing diamond cut.

“Miners are the answer. They work hard - get their hands dirty - because they know that while it may not be easy to find such precious things…” His eyes roam your lips before dancing back up to your orbs. “It’s very well worth it.” Taking a sip from your glass of wine, you raise a brow. “That’s why.”

“It doesn’t even feel that tough to wear these pieces,” Charles squeaks as he slips on a white gold bracelet around his wrist. “They’re breathtaking.”

Clapping, you squeal at his words. For a moment, Carlos thinks about punching his teammate for getting to see your good side. They’re great, thank you again. You just tip your head towards him to confirm you heard, and slide away. Carlos sighs.

“This is ridiculous. She can’t even look at me.” The Spaniard bites his cheek. “Do you think she hates me?”

“For doing what?” Charles asks, face pinched with confusion. Carlos huffs, arms flying up.

“I have no idea!”

“Well…I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

“No.” He groans. “Can you picture how awkward that would be? There’s no way.”

“Suit yourself.”

Pouting, the brown eyed boy zigzags his way into the studio, mentally preparing himself for hours of blinding lights. “Buongiorno, Carlos!” Spotting your father with his arms wrapped around his wife, he walks over with a tired smile. How are you guys? “We’re fine, son, thank you for asking. Tell me, are you excited for this weekend?” He instantly stands up straighter.

“I am. The Tifosi are always great to be around. Gets hectic, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I can imagine. My wife and daughter are always amped up when it’s finally Monza’s turn.” He hums, almost as if he’s reminiscing. “Tell you, my baby would beg for us to take her to cheer on her favorite drivers. It’s kind of a full circle moment so don’t mind if my wife gets emotional.”

“Stop,” your mother sniffles as she shares a grimace. Told you, your father mouths. Carlos laughs.

“I completely get it, it must mean a lot to all three of you. Maybe that’s what makes this partnership work all the more.” Your fathers winks, large fingers wagging over at the Spaniard. Working over time. I respect it.

“I see why my daughter likes you.”

Carlos halts. “Sorry?”

The older man pants, seeming comedically defeated. “Are you kidding me? She adores you! You've been her favorite driver since you joined Formula 1.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Her love towards the sport had a huge impact on us to join as sponsors, but to be fair, we probably still would have done it. Like I said, it holds a special place in our hearts.”

“Buongiorno,” your soft voice echoes, skipping happily to greet the Ferrari team. Everyone’s energy quickly picks up as you flow with such easiness, skirt wrapping around your waist, making you seem like the only flower in an empty garden. Talk to you in a bit, you cheer as you make your way up to your parents. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you spot the grumpy brunette. Like always, he can physically see you create a wall around yourself, keeping you from him. He felt like the Beast drooling over the rose inside the glass. “Good morning, Carlos. Logo looks good,” you hum, dark red pedicure pointing at your last name printed onto his fireproof. “Can’t wait to see how it looks on Charles.”

His jaw ticks. “Why don’t I call him then?”

“That would be lovely.”

He’s jealous. Of course he fucking is. He might have found out your whole act is a facade but that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. He could have been your favorite at one point, but what about now? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it.

“She wants to see you.”

The Monegasque furrows his brows. Who? But as soon as he notices his teammates' sour face, he registers the reason for his bad mood. “Stop pouting. You look like you just sucked on a lemon.” Carlos shoots a deadpan expression. “This has gone too far. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“What? You nagging?”

“Okay, ouch.” The green eyed boy takes a small step towards the Spaniard. “You don’t like it that she’s ignoring you because you like her.”

Carlos jumps off the couch. “I do not!” Charles hums.

“Oh shit, good, then I could ask her out.” He beams. “I wouldn’t want things to get weird between us.” Carlos' heart almost jumps out of his chest as he grows nauseous at the thought of you saying yes. He continues. “I’m telling you; I have a good feeling.” The brown eyed boy clenches his jaw. “It’s like this - I could see myself marrying her, having a baby heiress-”

“Okay fine, I like her!” He pants. “She drives me so fucking crazy. Whether she looks my way or not, she makes my head spin. Ever since I saw her at the Canada GP, she’s been imprinted into my brain like a lecture I’ve been told over and over, time and time again. It makes me sick that she seems to almost get sad when she’s around me. The way she can never look at me the way I’ve always looked at her. And I’m…” He looks down at his race boots. “I’m too afraid of ruining something that I don’t even have a chance at.”

The Monegasque pats him on the shoulder, lips stretched out into a teasing smirk. “Now, was it that hard to admit your feelings?”

It was that hard to admit his feelings. He thought about it for the first time since he met you. Confess everything that’s been locked away deep inside of him; claim his feelings like some kind of gold medal. But then he saw you radiating pure perfection and he would turn the other way. You hated him, he’s sure.

“Alright Carlos, push, now push.”

He could taste it - sweet victory that he badly craved. If he played his cards right then he could get second place, which was pretty good in comparison to past results.

The Spaniard tries to not feel too upset about coming in third and waves up at the Tifosi who let out blood curdling screams. Pride rushes through his veins as he walks onto the podium, he didn’t even mind all the attention. Especially the kind you were gifting him with.

The way you smile so big that your perfect teeth shine up at him, eyes crinkling like a love letter. Cheekbones slightly pink from cheering so loud but also from the bright sun. He swore he was on some kind of drug.

Making his way back into the motorhome after all the interviews, he bumps into you and your parents. “Like it?” he asks as he displays his trophy.

“Definitely,” your father beams. “You deserve it, son, enjoy it.” After a few more affirmations, he and your mother walk away. Brown orbs find your own.

“Have fun?” He tries to ease his deep voice, to appear more outgoing, to not scare you away. And yet, you nod, looking down.

“He’s right. You totally deserve it.” And for what seems like the first time, you bless him with your warm stare. “Felicidades, Carlos.” Pink paints his cheeks. You speak Spanish? Your eyes grow wide as you feverishly shake your head. “I-I- I don’t, but I’ve picked up on a few things here and there…”

“From me.” He tilts his head. “You actually pay attention to me.”

You can’t help stutter like a broken record. “Of course-e, I ha-ave ears.” You show them off like a weak justification. “See?” you squeak. Playing with the hem of your dress - that had him swallowing a string of moans the moment you walked into the garage that morning - you slowly started backing away. “I should go now…” You point towards the sliding doors. “See you later?”

But he knew there would be no later. Fuck, this was the most you’ve spoken to him since, well, ever. He wouldn’t let that slip away so easily. Even if his heart got bruised along the way.

“Did I do something for you to hate me?”

Your brows narrow like a little kid. “You think I hate you?”

“It’s okay if you do, I suppose, but I’m just lost as to where that happened? Did I-”

“I don’t hate you,” you softly speak up, eyes shut in disbelief that you’ve made him feel that way. You blink back at him. “I promise you, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Okay, he confirms.

“Why can’t you talk to me then like you do with everybody else? Why can’t you even spare me a passing glance?”

His voice sounds desperate now, he knows it, but he was desperate. Now you were embarrassed that he continues to bring up more and more of your poor behavior - but it was never intentional. You twirl a strand of your hair before releasing it.

“You intimidate me.”

The Spaniard squeezed his fist around the trophy. For a moment, he thought he would dent the steel. Your stomach drops at the sight and he feels guilty for proving you right. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a bad guy, y’know? I’m sure it may seem like it, but…” He licks his lips. “I’m not.”

Doe eyes flutter like butterfly wings. “I believe you, Carlos.”

“Good. Now, would you please tell me why you always escape when I’m around?” You softly curse as you pinch your hand for a second.

“I wasn’t lying; you do intimidate me. But not in the way you might think.” Like an angel, you make your way closer. “You’re my favorite driver, you know that?” The Spaniard’s brown eyes grow wide. You laugh. “Ever since you-”

“Joined Formula 1.”

Your jaw drops. “My father ratted me out?” Panicking, you pace the room back and forth. You could only look at him for a couple of seconds before planting your stare at anywhere else that isn’t him. “I told him not to say anything! Oh God.” You let out a maniatic chuckle. “I swear it’s just a tiny crush, it’s not even that deep - I’ll get over it!”

Now it’s his turn to geek out. “You have a crush on me?” Crap, you groan, biting down on your nail. He didn’t mention that part, did he? Brown strands of hair shake back and forth as you sigh.

“Forget I said anything, I am so sorry for making things awkward-”

“I’ve seen you before.” What? The 29 year old winces. “At the Canada GP. You were walking with a friend.” Synthia, you whisper to yourself. “I was being filmed for feedback on the race and you were about 5 steps in front of me.” You counted? “I said about - and for months, you were all I could think about. You sort of stuck to me like a nostalgic scent. I don’t know why I felt the need to talk to you, I mean, it’s never happened to me before. I looked away for a second and you were gone.” He shares a lopsided smile. “Then I saw you again.”

“And I blocked you out.” You bite your lip. “Shit, Carlos…I had no idea you felt this way.” He shrugs.

“It’s my fault. I never told you.” Still, you try to reason but he only brushes you off. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” you whimper. “I acted like a complete snob and belittled you.” Your heart breaks at the image. “And you’re telling me it’s been mutual all along?”

“Looks like it. This is good though.” How? The brunette winks as he pulls you in. “Because now we do know and I can take you out sometime?” You quirk a brow.

“It works just like that?”

He hums, comfortable with the two trophies pressed up against him. “Only if you want it to be like that.” You can practically hear your crazy heartbeat with the way he’s looking down at you - as if he’s just discovered a previously nonexisting star. With soft hands pressed onto his suit, your eyes twinkle.

“Just like that, then.”

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shinyspooks · 4 months

Text

literally and non-literally

so. i'm literally obsessed with @zillychu 's fire core au. so i HAD to write this.

note: i imagine this happens sometime between danny actually starting to talk to them and them finding out about the halfa thing- so like, really early bonding/flirting stage?? you'll get what i mean

Warnings: blood mention, Danny kills a ghost off screen. + said ghost's arm gets torn off. this fic is comedy though i promise

Word Count: 1k

Read on AO3

This had been a bad idea.

That was all that Tucker could think, as he and Sam stood under the cover of a nearby half-destroyed building, watching as Phantom beat another ghost to a pulp.

Neither of them had seen the other ghost before, and it seemed that they likely never would again, if the way Phantom was tearing into them was any indication.

Literally, tearing into them, it seemed, as Phantom fiercly bit down on the other’s arm and ripped it clean off, blood splattering down to the pavement, followed by the ghost’s body, slamming down with such force that it made the ground tremble. When the dust settled, the ectoplasmic body didn’t so much as twitch.

“Wow.” Sam said, interrupting the unsettling silence, “That was kinda hot.”

Phantom, arm still in his mouth, turned around with a look filled with so much abject horror that if this was any other situation Tucker would’ve laughed.

Letting the arm drop from his mouth to fall to rest on top of it’s original body, Phantom joined Sam and Tucker on the ground. Well. Sorta on the ground. He got closer to the ground. But he remained floating, as usual.

“Ah-” Sam interrupted him before he could speak, “You’ve got a little-”

She reached forwards, towards Phantom’s face, and he instantly floated several feet back, letting out a hiss. Sam froze, before letting her arm drop to her side.

“Right, no touching.” She said, “But, uh, you’ve got some blood- or, ecto, on your face.”

Phantom almost seemed to hesitate for a second, before using his fist to try and wipe the ecto-blood off his cheek. He didn’t do much other than smear it a little, but both Sam and Tucker decided to not mention it. Phantom floated a bit closer again with a small sigh.

“I hope,” He started, “That when you said hot, before, thatit’s in reference to the literal heat, cause otherwise…”

“Otherwise…?” Sam tilted her head to the side with a smirk. Tucker silently shook his head at her, but she ignored him.

“Because otherwise, you’re a lot crazier than I thought.” Phantom said, crossing his arms with a huff. If anything, Sam’s smirk grew wider at that.

“Hi, I’m Sam, and I’m a lot crazier than you thought I was.” She said, linking her arm around Tucker’s and dragging him in closer to her. “This is Tucker, he’s also a lot crazier than you thought he was. May I know your name?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Tucker muttered, and Sam lightly kicked his shin, making him sharply inhale. Phantom slow-blinked at them both. Truthfully, they didn’t really need him to tell them his name, they both had a pretty solid guess that he was, maybe, perhaps, the Phantom, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, when it came to somewhat eldritch or fae-like beings, there were whole things around names, so it was best to give the matter some form of caution.

(And even if it wasn’t a fae-name kind of situation, the fact Phantom had not willingly gave them a name to call him by at this point did imply that they should treat the matter with some delicacy).

“…Nice try.” He said, “It’s not something you need to know, though.”

“Hm, maybe we should try giving you a name then…” Sam trailed off, thinking. Tucker let out a defeated sigh, immediately realizing that she was about to throw their previous caution and delicacy around Phantom’s name away entirely. Phantom looked almost confused, and slightly angry, like she hadn’t gotten his point, but couldn’t even say a word before she was speaking again. “Ah, I know. We’ll call you Casper.”

Phantom slow-blinked again, now very obviously confused.

“You’re choosing, of all things, to name me after the old high-school?” He asked. Now it was Sam and Tucker’s turn to look at him in confusion.

“No?? I- Oh, wait.” The realization seemed to hit them both at once. “You wouldn’t have seen that movie, would you?”

“Movie?”

“Casper, the Friendly Ghost.” Tucker elaborated. Phantom seemed to bristle.

“Ghosts are not friendly.” He said. Sam and Tucker both shared a look that made him glower at the both of them. “Seriously. Ghost’s aren’t friendl- wait, hold on. If you’re naming me- you think I’m friendly?!”

The silence that followed seemed to be response enough for him.

“I’m not friendly. I- you both aren’t just crazy. You’re insane.” Phantom said. Sam seemed to consider something for a moment.

“Hmm… You know, you’re pretty cute too, Casper.” She said, and Phantom sputtered, suddenly dropping to stand on the ground.

“Cute?!”

“Ah-” Tucker suddenly felt the need to maybe do some damage control. Phantom was already a threat enough without a damaged pride. “Of course, you’re very, uh, scary and powerful-”

“In a hot way though.” Sam interjected, “In a non-literal hot way.”

“Sam!” Tucker had to admit that she was objectively correct, but- “You can’t just say things like that-”

“You know I’m right. He’s hot. Both literally and non-literally.” As she said so, she gestured at Phantom, who had taken to staring very pointedly at the ground. Was it just Tucker’s imagination, or was his face turning a little green-

Phantom’s fists suddenly clenched, and when he looked up at them again, it was with a glare in his eyes, the edges of his hair slowly growing more smokey than its usual state.

“Get out of my town.” He hissed, eyes flashing a brighter shade of green. Ah. It seemed they had reached Phantom’s idiocy limit for the day.

Not wasting any time, Tucker flipped Sam’s grip on his arm so that he was the one holding on to her, turned, and started to drag her away at a rather speedy pace.

“Aw c’mon, I was only messing around!!” Sam complained, but still allowed herself to be dragged. From some distance behind them, Phantom tsked.

“Keep playing around like that and you’ll get burned.” He muttered, quietly, but not quietly enough for them to not overhear.

“Was that a pun? Wait- Tucker, the ghost knows puns-” Sam said, planting her feet into the ground. It was enough to give Tucker pause as well, turning around-

Phantom had already vanished.

“He knows puns, Tucker.” Sam continued, “Tucker. We’ve got to bring the joke book next time.”

#Danny Phantom #Fire Core AU #my writing #zillychu if you see this i need you to know i havent written in like 5 months #and this is the fic that finally got me writing again #so thank you for this incredible au #Everlasting Trio

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swimmpantyz · 3 months

Text

: ̗̀RIDING...

... and not a bike.

bf!sano shinichiro x fem!reader

summary: your visit to your boyfrind's shop for his bday ended up in a making-babies-session.

tw: breeding kink, porn w/o plot, unprotected sex, crempie

words: +600

that's it, that's all

The door of the shop was locked. A "Closed" sign hanging on the window.

You were on the restroom, sitting on Shinichiro's lap.

"Yeah... just like that baby." Your hand clenched his white shirt while jumping on him. Eyes shut with an open mouth, not holding any sound, you knew how much he loved to hear how well he fucked you.

His hands were on your hips, squeezing you. His pelvis was moving along, pushing his cock even deeper inside you. He was hitting just the right spot.

"Oh, it's so good." You practicly coed. He grunted at your words, holding you closer to his body. Your hands caressed his chest. He looked up at you with glossy eyes.

"So, so good." You whined and he almost whimpered right there.

You leaned a bit, kissing him softly, muttering between the wet yet soft kiss.

"I love it, I love you." He trembled under you, messy black hair and red cheeks, staring in a blissful state.

"Why so sweet today, hm?... not that I'm complaining." He whispered, his hands brushing the hair off of your face, sloppy smile showing his surprisingly white teeth. Surprising cuz he smoke almost half a box of fags per day. "Ya came all dolled up and pretty..." He muttered, holding you thight, making you stay in place.

He started to fuck you slowly, cock touching your insides with delicacy.

"Is my boy's birthday today, isn't it?" You teased sweetly. He let out a shaky chuckle.

"it is? Mh-fuck, I totally forgot about it." He said, quickening up the pace. "You just got me all day thinking about ya." You laughed softly, with an high pitched and breathy voice.

"Is it my fault?" He nodded eagerly.

"Love it though... " His dark eyes kept staring up at you, focusing on the cute faces you were making. "Shit- You're so unbelievably pretty, doll, ya'know that, right?" You let out a few unintelligible words, nodding repeatedly.

Shinichiro chuckled a bit.

"Is too much already? my girl can't handle more?" He tried to tease you, his words almost making you laugh since he was in such a pussy-drunk state, grunting and moving his hips like some sort of animal.

But you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you so well.

"I- Ah!- ... I can-" Mouth open in a little o, his name slipping out of your mouth like some broken audio cassette. Your walls clenching had Shinichiro squeezing your waist to use you like a fleshlight, moving you up and down fastly, balls bumping into your ass, tip hitting your cervix easily. It was a mess between your wetness and his pre-cum. The loud sticky sounds and the always present clapping filling the room.

It was probably the best sex you two had in months. It got you fastly to the egde, your sweaty body colliding with his.

"Mh- fuck... fuck baby you're squeezing me so much... G-God-- 'm gonna cum inside this pretty pussy, mh? ya want that? want me to fill ya up?" He grunted while you nodded repeatedly, arching your back when his pace quickened, hard thrusts making you whine all over and over. His hand pressed the bulge of his cock on your stomach, staring at it with a dumb smile.

"Come on, take it all and make me a daddy... Shit, I need to put a baby right here." His throaty and rushed voice got muffled with your lips against his, his tongue moving in circles inside your mouth. When his thumb started to play with your clit you couldn't edge it anymore as you came undone on his cock. And Shinichiro couldn't either, not when you were whimpering his name and squeezing for dead's god his cock.

It felt like a second orgasm when his cum filled you up to the brim, sloppy thrusts as he emptied himself in your deepest spot.

Your hands went to his hair, caressing and pulling softly. He mumbled some unnentengible words, you just could understand some 'I love you's.'

"Happy birthday Shin." You whispered, kissing his cheek lovingly. And he gave you the sweetest smile, still dizzy and deep inside you.

"Ya're the best birthday present ever baby." His hands held you closer, hugging for a few minutes before getting decent to open the shop again...

Of course you kept the little party going on Shinichiro's house.

made this cuz we need more shinichiro content on here!!

#shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro smut #tr shinichiro #tokrev shinichiro #tokyo revengers #smut #tokyo revengers smut #sano shinichiro #sano shinichiro smut #sano shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro sano smut

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mikrokcsmos · 1 year

Text

Marriage Material

synopsis; in which you witness firsthand exactly how much your boyfriend loves you (and distrusts all men).

pairing; boyfriend!jungkook x girlfriend!reader ft. taehyung

genre; minor angst, mainly fluff, humor, established relationship, bts run au

rating; PG-13

warnings; none just a jealous koo <3

w/c; 985

a/n; this debate was too cute. and this idea is even cuter. but jungkook be the cutest.

In his defense, you knew he was a very jealous person.

In your defense, it was his brother.

Jungkook does his best to catch your eye, but you’re too busy, to invested, in helping his older brother out with a perilla leaf.

Once it’s separated, you ask his brother if he’ll need help with more. You may be oblivious to your boyfriend’s agitation, but his brother isn’t.

Jeon Jung Hyun just chuckles nervously, grunting quietly to himself as Jungkook kicks his shin underneath the table again, before telling you no.

“It’s okay, y/n. My brother’s a grown man.”

He chides in from his seat across from you.

“Love, I do the same thing for you all the time and you are a grown man. Sometimes, people need help.”

As you say this, your focus is on perfecting your own perilla leaf, which ironically, you start to have trouble with. Your tongue sticks out in concentration, only for you to puff out your cheeks in minor frustration.

Seeing you having trouble, makes Jungkook’s eyes soften, and he lets out a quiet sigh in resignation. Later — he would explain in great detail exactly how he feels on the matter, but right now you needed him.

Wiping off his chopsticks with a napkin, he stretches out his arm, chopsticks aimed in determination to resolve your problem. When he sees your eyes light up from his help, he wants to puff out his chest the same way a superhero does, cause that’s how he feels whenever he helps you.

Whether it be reaching something up high for you, pulling out your chair and tucking it in, wiping specks of food off your face, giving you the last slice of pizza or bite of food in general (which is how you really know he’s in love with you), or separating a perilla leaf—

His eyes squint involuntarily as he thinks of that last one, but what he doesn’t realize is he’s still staring at you as he does it. You pause your chewing, brows raising in confusion at the look he’s giving you. You swallow.

“Why are you looking at me as if you’re about to murder me?”

“What?”

He snaps out of it instantly, sheepish smile on display at getting caught in his own head. His eyes flicker to his brother’s momentarily, and it has Jung Hyun stuffing his face with another perilla leaf you helped him with earlier in order to avoid his brother’s wrath. It only fuels his jealousy.

Following his line of sight, you find him glaring at his brother and frown.

“What’s with the gloomy face, y/n?”

Taehyung asks in question, sitting back down next to Jungkook, now back from his trip to the bathroom. Jungkook’s head swivels to yours.

“Did I do something wrong, love?”

You try to think back to moment’s later, head replaying the past in flashes until you sit up straight, eyes widening in epiphany.

“This has to do with that perilla leaf debate, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook tries his best to look everywhere but at you, and Taehyung stares between you both in amusement, chuckling.

“I missed something, didn’t I?” He lightly elbows Jungkook, who leans away from him, choosing to stay silent, but you know better now.

His hand fidgets with the straw in his cup as he nervously pokes his tongue out to play with his lip ring. That’s all you need to see, though, your hand coming to lay on his.

“Jungkook, love, look at me.”

He does. For only a minute. Eyes now focusing on Taehyung who leans into Jungkook to prod further.

“Y/N, did you help his brother with a perilla leaf, per chance?”

You purse your lips, as does Jungkook.

“I did.”

“Ah.” He nods, then leans back against the booth with his arms crossed. He nudges Jungkook with his shoulder.

“Are they gonna fall in love now, and get married?” Taehyung jestures, chuckling lightly, trying to ease the tension he’s slowly beginning to feel. Jungkook’s brother stays silent, fully aware it’s best not to add to the growing tension he didn’t mean to cause.

You give Taehyung a hard stare. He backs off, hands up in defense.

“Hey Tae, let’s go pay for the meal, yeah?” Jung Hyun offers suddenly, and Taehyung gives him a grateful smile.

“Yep! See you both…in a minute.”

Just like that, they walk away.

Taking the opportunity, you slide out of your seat and take Taehyung’s, now side by side with Jungkook. Again, you attempt to gain his attention by taking his hand in yours. This time, it works.

“You know I love you, right?” You start, tone soft.

“Of course.” He angles his body to face yours better, and now that he no longer has the napkin to play with, he defaults to playing with your fingers instead.

“You know I would never leave you—,” you wiggle your fingers in his grip for emphasis with your next words. “—especially when the whole reason we’re having dinner in this nice restaurant is to celebrate our engagement.”

He rubs the back of his neck, tilting it back to look at the elegant light fixture above the table for a split second, before fixing his gaze back on yours.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let it get to me as much as it did.” You caress his hand with the back of your thumb, eyes full of nothing but understanding.

No judgement.

“It’s just, how did I get so lucky that you chose me of all people to spend the rest of your life with?”

“I’ve been asking myself that since you put this ring on my finger, love.” You smile warmly at him, and his whole body fills with content. When you kiss, it makes every worry of his slip away, and all he can think about is how he can’t wait to marry you.

#jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook #masterlist; rgds #jungkook drabble

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upthebluess · 4 months

Text

Opportunities (Arsenal WFC x Teen Reader) P2

In which you get invited back to first team training and really start to feel at home there.

(Part 1 already on my page 🫶)

“Did you score?”

“Were they all nice?”

“Did Katie foul you?”

Questions flooded in from your U16 teammates as you all sat in the gym, doing more talking than excercise.

“Yes, yes and yes” you responded all at once with a grin on your face.

It was early Thursday morning that you found out you’d been invited to train with the first team again, and it was Thursday morning you got to tell your teammates the good news.

“Did you find it really hard?” Another question piled on.

“At first it seemed hard, but once you got into it then it was fine. They train at such a high intensity though I was dying by the end” you answered once again before being interrupted.

“Girls, less talking more lifting!” Your coach called out from the opposite side of the room, having picked his head up from his tactics whiteboard for a moment to notice the lack of sweat dripping from your faces.

A rumble of apologies echoed from throughout the room as each player got on their elected machine and began to work. You however, were on recovery. Your coach said he wasn’t willing to risk any form of muscle strain before you trained.

Mindlessly, you rolled your legs up and down the lumpy cylinder of foam, attempting to get as ready as possible for your session in the afternoon.

Eventually, you were all dismissed from the gym and sent to education, where you spent three torturous hours leaning about the values of nutrition from the head chef. You did get to make smoothies at the end though, which was a bonus.

After that had passed, it was lunchtime. You ate with all your friends at the biggest table before it was time for you to split up.

Most of the girls went to the dome for their indoor training session, and a small few had to go to physio to help re-strengthen some injuries they’d obtained. You joined neither of them.

You and the youth development coach, Dianne, made your way down a few corridors until you made your way outside to the first teams pitches.

Only a few girls were out when you arrived, all laughing and kicking the ball in a rondo. You took this time to sling your backpack from your shoulders onto the grass and pull out your boots.

You slipped your trainers off and boots on, and placed your shin pads under your socks before pulling your joggers back over.

Dianne walked back over to you, “Ok Jonas said that it’s just quick little drills today and then they’re going inside for a wellness session that they’re happy for you to join. You’ll be done by 4:30”, she finished with a smile.

“Alright thank you” you retorted as you dusted the grass off your legs that had evidently just been cut.

“Told you that you’d be back!!” You felt someone pat you twice on the head, and as you turned around you saw Beth walk past you and onto the pitch with Lia, smiles on both their faces.

Just like the day before, you were split into warm up groups and were instructed to move throughout the cones, stretching various muscles in the body. Katie was in your group today though, and took this time to apologise to you for getting a bit too competitive in yesterdays mini tournament.

“You won’t be able to push her around like that for long Macca, she sent you to the shops a couple of times yesterday” Alessia joined in with your playful banter.

“I know I know, she’s a proper little baller, speedy too. What national team do you for again?”

Although your nerves hadn’t completely subsided yet, you felt comfortable enough now to speak freely amongst the girls.

“I play for England U17s currently, but I’m eligible to play for Norway too through my grandparents.” You had finished with your warm up now, and were all told to pick up the cones and re arrange them to play some 2 v 2s.

“Ah shame. You 100% sure you’re not Irish?” Katie winked as she placed the final cone down.

You were in a pair with Lotte, which you enjoyed. She was more of a physical player so it allowed you to show the technical side to your game a lot more.

That was what you were good at. Getting the ball at your feet and manipulating it until you made your way through a bundle of players. It was evident from the start that you were unable to shove players off the ball, but you were more than capable of using your other qualities to do so.

You both won a decent majority of your battles, only losing to Viv and Leah, which you actually thought was an unfair paring.

The goals were only about a metre wide and 3 feet tall in such small duels, but you had definitely managed to bag yourself at least ten and a couple of assists to Lotte.

The training went on to consist of shooting drills and set pieces, before finishing off with games of foot tennis. Having never played foot tennis before, you had to admit it wasn’t your strong suit. But you and Alessia were just as helpless as each other, which you both found unusually hilarious, so it was ok.

Jonas began to wrap training up “Good work today, everyone. I wish you all luck on your international breaks. I expect you now to all go to the wellness department and watch the videos that have been designed to help you cope with busy schedules and stress. After that, you’re free to go. I’ll see you all in a week. Look after yourselves. Big games ahead.” He dismissed you all and went round giving hand shakes and pats on the back to every person on the field.

“Y/N, are you coming with?” Cloe asked as she gave you a high five, she had been a lot more conserved than you’d expected her to be, so far anyway.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve got some boring nutrition work to do” you replied, switching your footwear again back into trainers.

“Ahh I remember doing that when I was your age. Did you get to make smoothies too?” Lotte joined in.

You laughed in surprise, “yeah, that was pretty much the only fun thing about it.”

Lotte and Leah exchanged a knowing look, having been through the academy themselves.

“Oh by the way, where actually is the wellness department?” you realised how little you actually knew your way around the first team building.

“I’ll show you, kid. Come on” Katie tapped you on the shoulder and referenced for you to walk with her. “How long you been at arsenal then?”

“I’ve been an arsenal fan since I was born but I joined at pre academy U7s, been here ever since” you answered. You couldn’t believe you were having a casual conversation with first team players, as if they were your own teammates.

“Ah born a gunner, sounds like a certain blonde I know. Oi Williamson!” She called out to Leah in front of you.

“What?” She turned around, her thick black headband covering half of her forehead.

“You got some future captain competition here. Been a gunner since 7, that’s 3 whole years before you!” Katie joked.

“I have to actually make it pro first” you added in.

“Oh yeah, I forget you’ve not yet. You will, keep working at this rate and you’ll be stealing game time from me”

You noted how Katie easily found the perfect balance between sarcasm and encouragement. She was a lot nicer than she appeared on the pitch.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting in a large room filled with laughter and taylor swift music. Of course, you hadn’t fully fitted in yet, but you were close. Closer than you had anticipated you would be at this stage.

As 4:30pm came around, the December weather was taking its toll and rain was pouring down.

“Jeez look at the rain” Jen exclaimed, looking up from her doodles that she’d drawn rather than finishing her fitness schedule.

Lots of different remarks came from Jen’s comment, but only yours caught the ear of Beth.

“Great, the one day I have to walk home” you had mumbled under your breath. Both your parents were working at that time because they hadn’t yet adjusted to your new training schedule with the team.

“Your walking? In this?” Beth asked a little too loud, it drew more attention to you than you liked.

“Yeah, it’s not far though I’ll be ok,” you gave a dismissive nod as you glanced outside again, convincing yourself more than her.

“No you wont, me and Viv will give you a lift. Where do you live?”

“Uh, Anderson Avenue, the one near the park. But really, you don’t have to” you were dumbfounded. Beth Mead was offering you a lift home, as if you were friends. Maybe you were.

“Don’t be silly, it’s on our way home. If your comfortable listening to another ten minutes of Taylor Swift that is.”

“Honestly it’s no trouble” Viv accompanied.

“If you’re sure?” You we’re reluctant to accept their generous offer but you certainly didn’t fancy central London in the dark, on your own, as a 15 year old girl.

As you lay in bed that night, completely dry thanks to the Meadema’s mercedes, you contemplated what a day you’d just had. You made Alessia Russo practically cry of laughter, you nutmegged Mccabe twice and drove home with two of Arsenal’s finest forwards.

Although you were slightly let down that you now had to wait a week to train again, you reminded yourself that simply gave you more time to progress and impress your own coaches.

You tried not to let your mind get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t forget what Katie had said earlier:

“You’ll be stealing minutes from me”

Did that mean she thought you’d be offered your pro contract soon? Surely not? At 15?

Time will tell.

#arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #alessia russo #leah williamson #beth mead #vivianne miedema #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community #woso fanfics #women’s football

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redsaurrce · 1 year

Text

LOVE SHOT - DOSE 1 <Your touch is my medicine>

synopsis 💉 Where jk becomes the part of an experiment where he wasn't supposed to take the love shot but ends up taking it in high dose and gets obsessed with yn by mistake

pairing 💉 YANDERE Scientist!jeon jungkook x Scientist!fem reader

genre 💉 scientist!au

word count 💉 1,580

warnings 💉 -- well the jealousy is just getting started!

Teaser!

taglist 💉 @aajjks @effielumiere @dearsullix @canarystwin @yourslut16 @imwithurmother @perfectlyfangirling @pnibts @bloodline1632 @hopeonysus @roundedreluv12 @jub-jub @maqsxi @kooscameras @jungkooksleftbigtoe13 @thatblena @yawnyanii @viridiphile @milkxgukk @outro-kook @puppiliciouslove @mata0-0mata @pk-jimin @jungchanie @ziraspells @twisted-loved @lunaofsun @inlovewithallmusic @sassyfoxunknown @teugiie @hsaranghoe @jjhmk @mryuyux @xxoverthinkerxx @fandems @hollyverday @ohmygodddsblog @fly-on-the-wall @lookformyvoice @slutforwwh @shakashakaa @meikoo @emochicksasukeee @dearly-somber

@mymomsaid-no @madnesstaking0ver @miyoung23 @outofst1le @jiminstreble @kanvis @k3lynn @imagine-this-motherfucker @dontcallmeelle @jkbabiey @1-in-abillion @bangmechanpls @uarmyhore @devils-blackrose @hrndez2008 @azur3s @erennjim @cherryunie @vynmin @fragmentof-indifference

18 hours later

Jungkook's forefinger twitched as he slowly regained consciousness. He opened his eyes ever so slowly, his head felt lightweight, how long has he been out of consciousness?

"Ah.." you heard Jungkook moan, you quickly walked towards him, "Jungkook? Can you hear me?" You looked at him in curiosity. Jungkook looked at you, yes, he was feeling fine.. but…"What is it? Do you need water?" You asked him.

"Y/N is that really you?" He mumbled weakly. You looked at him slightly confused, "I don't think you fell hard enough to have amnesia?" You said, "Do you feel any discomfort anywhere?"

"Aye you talk as if you're the doctor!" Shin-won came from behind and helped Jungkook sit up.

After having a glass of water from you, he spoke, "How did I end up in a hospital? What about the experiment?"

The corner of your lips twitched, "Really? Is that your biggest concern right now, Jungkook? You have been lying here unconscious for the past 18 hours." You said in a scolding manner.

Jungkook took a good look at your face, "Are you concerned about me, Y/N?"

Shin-won and you exchanged confused looks briefly, "What? Of course, I was concerned, isn't it the same with you too Shin-won?"

"Y-yeah obviously. We were really worried about you, how can a person lay unconscious for 18 hours straight?? That's a lot!" Shin-won huffed.

Jungkook blinked, "Is that so?" Jungkook looked visibly upset, why though? Isn't it good that his colleagues were worried about him?

"Uhm.. I think we should call a doctor since he's woken up, lemme go and ask for them." You said and stepped out of the room.

Jungkook saw you walk out, he felt strange. Actually, he's been feeling a little fuzzy inside ever since he woke up.. His mind wasn't calm and his heart wasn't feeling alright either. Could it be…

"Shin-won!" He looked at his assistant, "I remember blacking out after taking the love shot, did you guys not inject the antidote?"

Shin-won contorted his eyebrows, "Ofcourse we did, we even consulted high-end pharmacologists to do the math and inject right amount of antidote…-- why? are you not feeling well?"

"I-"

Jungkook's sentence got cut off with the doctor's interruption, "Mr. Jeon Jungkook, you can now be discharged and go home after signing out at the reception." The doctor advised after checking on him and left.

Shin-won tilted his head, "So.. what were you saying earlier? Are you.. not feeling okay?"

Jungkook looked at him and then towards you, "Why? What is it? Are you in pain? Not feeling good?" You asked him with curious eyes.

"It's true. I don't feel okay. I wonder if these are the side effects." Jungkook answered, "I'm in pain, and those are not physical ones."

You saw Jungkook's eyes meet yours, a strange feeling stirred up inside you as you looked at him, "Jungkook… are those feelings directed towards.. me?" You breathed out the last word of your question.

He gulped, "Yes."

Shin-won's eyes got wide at realization, "A-are you implying that the antidote didn't work? Isn't 18 hours a lot? The antidote should've worked within 12 hours already."

Jungkook's eyelids fluttered "I know right.. perhaps, is it the high dose?" He asked.

"Or.. is it because of the extra medication the doctors had injected in him?" You wondered.

"In any case, I think it'll be better if you stay with us Jungkook, we should monitor you, isn't it Y/N?" Shin-won anticipated your response.

You nodded, "Shin-won's right, you should come with us."

"With whom exactly?" Jungkook asked as he looked at both of you back and forth.

"Maybe… Y/N? Afterall you're currently infatuated with her. Plus, Y/N has a big ass research labroom in her own house, isn't it Y/N?"

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, "So Shin-won has visited Y/N's house and not me? Shot or not, it still upsets me, Y/N."

You couldn't help but crack a smile in amusement, "Is that so? Then today is your day i guess?"

Jungkook sat on the sofa comfortably in your living room, Shin-won had gone to Jungkook's house to fetch him his essentials. "I don't know how long I'm going to live here but I hope I stay as long as possible." He spoke while you came with a glass of juice to give it to him.

You sighed, "Now that you're under the influence of the shot, are you really going to flirt with those wacky lines?" You shook your head at his failed attempt.

Jungkook pouted, "Was it that bad?"

"Yeah.. totally a -2 out of 10!"

"Heyyy.." Jungkook whined.

You chuckled, "Drink this and keep your mouth shut for a while please."

"A while? How long precisely?" He asked as he swallowed down the juice. "Hmm… unless the shot wears off? Yeah till then, you should keep quiet."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, "C'mon that's cruel. I…" He sighed, "So, what are we planning next?"

"What do you think? Of course I'm going to observe you. I took an entire day off for you, you know?" You said nonchalantly while eating almonds.

It might have been casual for you but for Jungkook, it was more than that.. the fact that you took a day off which you have never done before no matter the situation.. that too just for him, gave him butterflies.

A sudden knock on the door distracted him. You got up to open the door, "Hey Shin-won come inside." You told him as he handed over a bag filled with Jungkook's stuff to you.

"Oh yeah~, that would be great!" He said cheerfully and stepped inside enthusiastically.

When he saw Jungkook he quickly jumped onto the sofa almost crashing into him, "Hey hey calm down." Jungkook said with a giggle, after all Shin-won looked like a puppy who just found his owner. You couldn't help but laugh at his actions, "How cute!"

Shin-won gave a toothy smile to you and if he were a puppy, you were sure a wagging tail would be seen swaying behind him.

Normally the three of you stayed close as three friends, all of your colleagues knew the three of you as the three musketeers. You- the skilled genius known for coming up with logical solutions within a span of seconds.

Jungkook- the sweet heartthrob known for putting everything on the line when it comes to work.

Shin-won- the mischievous cutie, assistant scientist of Jungkook, and your school's junior known for loyalty towards his friends and love for science.

So when you called Shin-won cute which was a harmless and playful remark, it made Jungkook almost punch the poor boy down.

He shut his eyes close at his stupid thought and facepalmed himself, "really Jungkook? Are we really getting jealous here? How embarrassing!" He thought to himself.

All of a sudden he started to feel warm.

Shit! It's back!

It's BACK?! The same feeling he had before collapsing in the lab. Shin-won at once took notice of it and looked at Jungkook in shock, "H-Hey? What's wrong?"

Jungkook started fanning himself with his breath growing shallower every passing second and his heartbeat racing 10x faster, "Y/N ICE CUBES PLEASE !!! JUNGKOOK MIGHT FAINT AGAIN !!!" Shin-won shouted at the top of his lungs, thank goodness you were in the kitchen already.

You were surprised at the sudden scream and hurriedly took out the entire tray of ice cubes and ran towards them.

You quickly handed over the cubes to Shin-won and he started to rub it against Jungkook's neck and forehead but to much dismay, it wasn't working at all.

Fuck, you cursed under your breath, "please don't faint please don't faint" Shin-won kept chanting while applying the ice cubes again and again but nothing was improving.

"Ha.. how hot is it?" You asked and kept your palm over his forehead to check the intensity.

Jungkook's heart rate dropped.

He felt calmer the moment you touched his forehead, he almost thought he died judging by how rapidly his mind calmed down and became more and more peaceful.

His eyes went wide as soon as you removed your palm, in your defense, you only did that to check if he needed fever medications.

He quickly grabbed your hand back and placed it on his forehead again, making you confused by his absurd action.

"What-" "Please stay like this, I think I'm getting better, my breathing is getting stable." He requested you.

Shin-won who quietly looked at the entire scene unravel, finally spoke, "Does Y/N's touch make your heart stable, Jungkook?"

"HUHHH??" You couldn't believe what your ears just heard, you quickly looked back at Jungkook for him to deny Shin-won's allegations.

"Yes," Jungkook said with a little cough to overcome the awkwardness.

Your jaw dropped, how is this even possible?? "Hey Jungkook if you're fine now, I- I think I should go write all of this for the records."

Jungkook slowly released his grip from your wrist, "Yeah sure I'm fine now."

You quickly retracted your hand and went to another room to bring the record diary.

Just when you went inside, you quickly closed the door and allowed yourself to calm down from the shock, "WTF? What kind of shot did we create? What have I gotten myself into?"

You gulped, "I just hope it ends right here."

Oh how wrong you were!

For you have no idea that things have just barely begun.

Was it too short? Fret not luvs! For I am going to update love shot every 2-3 days from now on so stay tuned ;) ALSO FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY HIGHLY APPRECIATED (for faster updates lolol)

--x

DOSE 2

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springlockscars · 6 months

Text

office after hours (w. afton/fem!reader)

pairing: william afton | steve raglan/fem!reader content tags: age gap, size kink, praise kink, overstimulation, cockwarming (if you squint), riding, multiple orgasms, rough sex summary: "steve" and you take advantage of the privacy his office provides after hours. word count: 2,662 read on AO3

18+ content below cut. minors do not interact.

note: so many pet names used I'm sorry. there isn't necessarily a plot here and I have no idea if I'll continue this or write a beginning part, lmk! based on a dream I had no word of a lie. enjoy ♡

“O-oh! That's it baby girl.. Just like that...” William moans and tilts his head back, resting it on the back of his office chair.

Your breath comes in shallow pants as you glide yourself back and forth over his rock-hard cock. You could feel every ridge and vein between your legs, bumping your clit as you moved.

William's shirt unbuttoned, tie discarded, his slacks un-buckled and dropped all the way down to his shins. You, completely bare on top of him, coating his length with your wetness at an agonisingly teasing pace.

William's hands grip your hips with enough force to bruise as he relishes in the divine pleasure you're both experiencing. You feel sweat begin to roll down your back as your neediness grows.

“C'mere,” William says in a breathless grunt, looking down at where he lies between your legs. He takes your hips in his vice-like grip and drags your soaking wet entrance all the way to the tip of his cock. He pushes you backwards again, his tip slowly stretching you.

The pressure you feel is unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

“Ah!” You gasp, “it-it's too big!” Gripping onto his shirt and squirming in his lap.

William just presses you down onto his cock more, and more, grunting with every twitch of your body. His head rolls back against his chair again, moaning through gritted teeth.

“So tight,” he lets out a shuddering breath, “oh my baby bunny is so tight for me.”

You seriously don't think it'll fit, especially with no other preparation beforehand.

Gasping and writhing in his grip, you feel his hot breath against your neck as the pressure builds to an unbearably uncomfortable level.

“A-ah! fuck please, it's too m-mu- ah!” You choke on your words as you finally feel the tip of his hard length push through and gain entry. Crying out, you collapse and rest your head on his shoulder.

William shushes you, running his large, rough hands up your thighs to caress your small, pert buttocks before running them back down your thighs again “Shh bunny, shh. It's ok. You're doing so well, I knew you could do it,” his hands stroke up to your hips to resume his grip.

“It's like you were made for me,” he whispers against your neck.

He pulls you up, slowly, as though he were about to pull out what little of him had entered entirely. Only to push you back down on his cock, forcing it to enter deeper inside your walls.

Still with your head buried in his shoulder you try to rock your hips to match the movements he's making. Each downward stroke letting him reach deeper and deeper inside you while simultaneously pulling high pitched whines from your mouth.

“Oh.. My girl.. You're doing so well. Taking me so well... So good for me,” he nips and licks down the side of your throat to your shoulder. Nuzzling his nose into your neck and inhaling your scent.

All you can do is choke out a moan in response.

He continues working you down his length, the stretch burning and the pressure inside building more and more.

I don't know if I can take much more. You think to yourself, how much more is there...

You knew he was big after he ordered you on your knees to free him from the constraints of his slacks. Telling you exactly how to run your small hands up and down his length before impatiently pulling you off the ground to sit on his lap and make his cock slick with your wetness. The only preparation made before he tried to bury himself deep inside you.

“Ugh.. That's it my bunny... almost.. there,” William pants as his length reaches deeper and deeper with every stroke.

He once again lifts you with ease almost fully off his cock before pulling you back down agonisingly slow. He does it again, but this time you feel the tops of his thighs brush your backside. “You're taking me so well. Taking my cock so well,” he groans as he pulls you down one final time, sitting completely on his lap with his length entirely buried inside you.

The feeling of fullness is indescribable.

He pushes you off his shoulder to look in your face, stroking your damp hair back and taking your chin in his hand. ”How does it feel baby?” he asks, eyes burning with lust.

all you can do in response is pant and grip what remains of his clothes.

“Has my baby gone dumb?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “has my cock made you speechless?”

Truth be told, the feeling of your tight walls pulsing around him has him feeling drunk too. Gone are the days where William could only imagine stuffing you full of his cock until you cried. He has you now. And he'll take you whenever he wants.

William brings his hands down your neck to your breasts with a feather light touch. Cupping them, rolling and pinching your nipples to hard points as you sit there, fully sheathed on his cock. He situates his hands down at your waist, stroking your skin gently with his thumbs while he watches you sit there with your completely blissed out expression.

Mine. He thinks. All mine.

He tightens his grip, drawing your attention. “Baby,” he smiles when your eyes meet his, a dark grin twisting across his features, “I'm going to fuck you now,” he states.

With that being his only warning, he lifts you again effortlessly upwards and almost entirely off his cock, before slamming you back down.

Crying out and arching your back, your nerves feel like they're on fire from the sensation. William continues his assault on your pussy, his hips snapping upwards into yours repeatedly and forcefully. All you can do is cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

Your hands gripping his arms as your head falls backwards, overstimulated and completely drunk on the pleasure he's giving you.

William lets out a ragged moan, feeling your walls spasm as he pounds you relentlessly, again and again. Your breasts jiggling with nipples hard right in front of his face. He looks down to where your bodies connect, feeling a surge of pleasure go straight to his groin at the sight of his cock penetrating you over and over.

“Oh... my bunny... so good. You feel so good.”

His praise joining the sounds of your moans, and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours to echo through his office. Good thing you were the only ones in the building.

Tears burned in your eyes from the overstimulation, spilling down your cheeks and dripping down to your breasts. The sight made William even more turned on, grunting with every thrust up into your tight, bruised pussy.

“a-ah... ohhh.. m'god... unfff- ah!” Your incoherent sounds like a chant encourage him on, his thrusts never slowing. He's animalistic, the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead mixing with your own in the valley between your breasts. He leans forward to capture a nipple in his mouth, maintaining his pace. The taste on his tongue a salty mix of your sweat and tears.

You throw one arm around the back of his neck and bury your fingers in his hair as he repeatedly sucks and bites at your breast enough to bruise. You'd be covered in them by morning. Markings to show you off as his.

He moves to give the other breast the same attention, the same bright red-purple marks, before pulling away and leaning back in his chair again to watch you ride.

“Do you like this, hm?” He asks, grunting, “do you like the way my cock feels inside you?”

All you can do is grasp at the back of his neck and at his hand on your waist. His pace still doesn't relent as you continue to moan, your voice becoming hoarse.

“Does it feel good my little bunny? Riding me like this... I-ahh... You're just so tight. You feel so good.. feels so good.. and tight around me...”

You can feel the burning ache low in your tummy get stronger and stronger. Your hands grasping at William desperately as he just keeps roughly pounding you.

The feeling tightens and tightens, your cries choked out becoming higher. Until you feel it snap inside as you lose all control and spasm around William's cock. Your back arched, your legs shaking, digging your nails into his skin so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

“Unfff...Fuck. That's it baby girl, that's it... Come for me baby, come on my cock,” your walls rapidly squeezing him is a feeling William never wants to forget, bringing him closer to the edge of his own orgasm.

He maintains his pace, not slowing for a second to let you ride out your orgasm. His large hands pulling you down on his cock harder than ever before.

“St-stop!” you cry, “S'too m-much- ah!” The overstimulation making you feel like you're one of his machines short circuiting. You continue to spasm in his lap as he intensifies his thrusts. Tears prick at the edges of your eyes and spill down your cheeks. It's too much.

William, panting himself now, solidifies his grip on your body. “S-so good.. my bunny... So good for me...” Reaching the climax of his own orgasm his thoughts are completely lost on you, only using your body to reach his high.

His unrelenting assault on your body brings the warm ache deep inside you back once again. Your moans going from breathless heaving to shallow cries, feeling the tightness peaking.

You claw at any part of William your hands will reach. His neck, his shirt damp with sweat, his toned biceps down to his hands in their death grip on your flesh.

The pleasure becoming too much as you cry out his name, and feel the snap inside you, once again sending spasms throughout your entire body as William holds you firm. You can't tell if your vision faded or if you have your eyes closed.

Your walls clenching uncontrollably around William's cock a second time are enough to send him over the edge of his own orgasm. He slams your hips down against his one last time before finally stilling. He rests his forehead against your heaving chest as you feel him twitch deep, his hips rocking as he comes inside you, breathing sharp through his gritted teeth.

Until he finally sighs.

He relaxes his grip on your waist, head falling back against his chair once again.

Your mouth hangs agape as you feel the electric shocks of your second orgasm dissipate throughout your entire body, calming to a dull buzz.

William runs his hands up and down your sides in a soothing motion, pulling you into his chest. Your wet skin pressed against his as you fully relax against him. He strokes your back as both of your breathing settles to a normal pace. Relishing in the post orgasm bliss.

“You did so well for me my baby bunny,” he sighs, head tipped up to the ceiling. “So well, I'm so proud of you,” he leans down to pepper light kisses against your neck.

The adrenaline vanishing from your body, your eyelids grow heavy. You hum in appreciation of his praise and settle in closer in his embrace.

“Tired?” William asks, “c'mon, we can't sleep here. The cleaners are coming in early tomorrow and you know we can't be caught in here.”

He places one last kiss to your jawline as he encourages you back up to a sitting position. His cock still buried to the hilt inside you. You rub your eyes and sigh. William rests his hands on your hips once again and pouts, “I really did tire you out, hm?” he leans in and connects his lips to yours, sighing into the kiss.

William takes your hips firmly in his hands and raises you up off his now softening length. You gasp at the quick movement and the sudden loss of the full feeling you had become accustomed to. He takes his chance to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue against yours and completely dominating your mouth as you whimper against his lips.

William pulls back, feeling a surge of pride at your expression. Eyes half closed, a picture of bliss.

“Can you stand?” He asks as he lifts your small frame from his lap. Your legs shakily extend beneath you and tremble when they try to take your weight. “C'mere, hold on,” he places your hands on his shoulders as he retrieves your panties from where they were discarded on the floor. He helps you step into them and pulls them swiftly up your legs and over your ass. William strokes his thumbs over your hip bones and presses a couple of kisses to your abdomen.

“Here, sit there while I get our things,” William guides you backwards to sit on the edge of his desk, the wood cold against your backside.

He pulls his own slacks back up his legs, tucking himself back into his underwear and buckling his belt. He leans back in his chair and begins to button his shirt, eyes raking over you perched on his desk like you’re his prey.

How did I get so lucky... William thinks to himself.

Before getting halfway through the buttons, he realises that this shirt is far too soiled to wear in the car.

He stands from his desk chair and retrieves another shirt from the locker in the corner of the room. William was no stranger to spending the night in the office when the idea of driving home in the early hours wasn't appealing. Or when the warmth of the whiskey he keeps locked in the bottom drawer of his desk takes hold during a cold night.

He dresses in the clean shirt, collects the soiled one, along with his tie from where it lay on the ground and stuffs them inside his documents bag. William turns his attention back to you, collecting your discarded clothes from the ground too, only to realise the problem you now have.

“Ah... I forgot...” He holds the torn pieces of fabric in his hands, completely unwearable. He may have been too overexcited to get you undressed. Even your bra was ruined, the elastic straps snapped and dangling pathetically. “Mm,” he turns away to stuff your clothes in his bag too.

“Ah!” he grasps his coat from the rack by the door, gesturing you to come over to him with his hand.

You stand on shaky legs, holding onto the edge of the desk before going stand before him, looking up to into his face while wearing only your panties.

William steps closer and wraps his big coat around your bare shoulders, pulling it snug. “Not great... But it'll have to do for the drive home,” he collects your shoes and crouches all the way down to the floor to help you put them on.

“...Home?” you ask.

“Of course baby,” William says as he guides your shoe on your foot, you holding onto his shoulders as he does so, “what like I'm just gonna leave you here, alone and naked in the dark?”

William secures the second shoe and stands back upright, towering down over you. He grasps your chin and tilts your head to look all the way up at him. “You do want to come with me, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing.

“Excellent,” he grins and strokes your cheek before turning to collect his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Come on, better get out of here before anyone else gets here,” he opens his office door, having a tentative look left and right before guiding you out into the hallway towards the exit.

William flips off the light switch and closes the door to his office softly behind him.

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #steve raglan #my works

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