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generalllimaginesss · 4 months

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"I'm not letting you drive home in this condition” with Nico. I feel like he gives off protective energy. I’m imagining friends to lovers vibes. He falls first but they’re best friends. Maybe they met when he joined the Devils. Like randomly met somewhere and have been close ever since. And she has a really bad day at work. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. And she’s crying driving home and drives to his instead because she doesn’t want to be alone. Maybe he makes dinner (idk if this man can cook tbh) and then she’s still upset but tries to leave so he can get on with his night and he insists she stay because he doesn’t want her driving upset. And that’s when she realizes she’s in love with him. Like she drove to his place unannounced because she knew he was the only one who could comfort her and the only one she wanted to go to.

I’ve realized that I’m a sucker for Nico. He gives off golden retriever vibes and I feel like he would be such a nice person to be friends with. I hope you like it!!

••

You didn’t realize when you picked up your friends shift, now making you a double, that you would make very little money and the tables that you served were horrible. Not to mention your anxiety was at an all time high while you were waiting on a letter to tell you if you were accepted into the graduate program to your dream school. When all of these emotions combine, it makes for a shitty day.

Twelve hours after you clocked in, you were only up $150 dollars and finally were able to leave, your last table staying almost an hour after closing. There was dried sauces all over your uniform, your hair was disgusting, and you just felt heavy. With your emotions clouding your judgement, all you wanted to do was go to sleep.

As you made your way to your car that was parked behind the restaurant you worked at, a couple of notifications from your email caught your eye. The emails came from the two schools that you were betting your future on…

You decided it could hold off, the tears burning the corner of your eyes took priority, and you didn’t know if you could handle what the emails revealed.

While running your hands through your tangled mess of hair, tears freely fell, the product of being completely exhausted. The one person that kept flashing in your mind, however, was Nico. The devils played Anaheim and you weren’t able to keep up with the score, so you wanted to congratulate him on the win.

As much as you hated your job, you always reminded yourself that it was temporary, and most of all that without it you wouldn’t have Nico. The one person in the world that felt as lonely as you at one point on a rainy afternoon 6 years ago.

When Nico had first gotten to New Jersey, he didn’t feel close to anybody. Sure, he was the first overall draft pick. Sure, people loved him. But at the end of the day he felt like he had nobody. He felt like he had to keep this persona of “Mr. Tough Guy” up to prove himself.

He found himself all alone in the restaurant you work at, managing to snag you as a server. He must’ve sat at your table for hours, always finding something else to talk about every time you checked on him. He stayed until you got off and proposed the idea of going out to grab a drink or two, to which you happily obliged, finally hopeful that you found a friend.

Where Nico felt lonely in hockey, you felt lonely in school. Making friends in college was hard, especially when you’re from out of state and aren’t in Greek Life or in any extracurriculars. Your roommate and you had hardly had 10 conversations in the first year you lived together, so your studies became your main priority.

When Nico and you realized that you had a lot more in common than you thought, the friendship just developed naturally. When you were off work you supported him at his games. When he had a day off he helped you make flash cards and study. And on the rare chance that you both had nothing to do, movie nights were your thing.

Six years later and he was your very best friend. You told him everything. Every detail of your life was known by Nico and vice versa. You weren’t dependent on Nico for emotional support, but he was sweet to have around.

Tonight, however, was going to be one of those nights where you just needed somebody. You just needed Nico.

The tears cleared your eyes long enough for you to send Nico a quick text letting him know that you were headed to his apartment. He immediately responded with a thumbs up.

While you were driving, just about every depressing Olivia Rodrigo and Gracie Abram song played, reminding you of your relationship that had ended almost a month ago. You felt bad because Nico already had to deal with the mess you were then, and here you are again. Driving to his apartment, an emotional wreck and tired of the world.

You parked beside his car and walked up the flight of stairs that led to his door. You barely were able to knock when he opened the door and saw the state you were in. He could tell that you had been crying, probably only stopping when you parked, and that you needed somebody.

“Come here,” he held his arms opened in the doorway, enveloping you in the coziest embrace, the smell of his body wash lingering from his shower. Since he towered over you, he gently held your head against his chest and rested his head on yours, placing light pecks to the crown of your head.

He held you like that until you pulled away and made your way completely into his apartment, him closing and locking the door behind you.

He watched quietly as you made yourself at home, taking your shoes off and untucking your shirt from your pants. He chuckled to himself when he saw that you were wearing completely mismatched socks. He loved the quirky things that you did.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to congratulate you on the win,” your voice was nasally since you had been crying so hard and your nose was stopped up.

Nico smiled sadly, not wanting to make you feel worse, but aware he should probably tell you the truth.

“We lost, actually. Five to one.”

You groaned, disappointed in yourself that you didn’t bother to look up the score to make sure they won.

“I’m sorry. I worked a double and wasn’t able to watch. I just assumed with Anaheim’s record that you all would win.”

“Yeah, well, it just didn’t end up in our favor. They played pretty physical. You should go back and watch it,” He winked at you, a smile stretching from one corner of his mouth.

“But anyways, what’s wrong? I know you didn’t come here to just congratulate me on ‘winning,” he looked you up and down, taking note of the exhaustion that spewed from you.

“It just wasn’t a good day. I didn’t make money and then on the way over here music that reminded me of-” You tried to finish, but Nico immediately cut you off, reminding you of a relatively new rule that he had made.

“We don’t speak his name,” his eyebrows raised, warning you to not finish your sentence.

You sighed, “Ok, well you know who I’m referring to.”

Nico walked to his sofa, plopping down and patting the spot beside him , offering it to you. You happily obliged, tucking one leg underneath you and the other tucked into your chest.

“They emailed me back…the schools,” you announced, to which Nico instantly perked up.

“And? Did you get in?” A part of him wanted to see you live your dream, but he knew that with you getting into your dream school would mean you would be leaving New Jersey. More specifically, leaving him. The thought of not having you only 15 minutes away made him want to punch a wall. He had let himself fall for you, knowing that while New Jersey was home for him, it was merely a checkpoint for you. It was one step closer to you taking off in life.

“I didn’t look. I’m scared to,” You admitted, pulling out your phone and handing it to him.

“Please read it for me.”

He clicked on the email, his expression hard to read.

He didn’t want to read the news to you. He didn’t want to be the one that told you that you had been waitlisted by the two schools you were betting on, but he knew it was better for him to read it to you than you read it alone.

When you figured he had ample time to read both emails and he wasn’t telling you anything, a pit in your stomach began to take place. Tears quickly puddled, spilling over your bottom eyelid as if they were a never ending fountain.

“I didn’t get in, did I?” Your voice broke, in return breaking a little piece of Nico.

“Waitlisted by both, but that’s not a no,” He tried to make you feel better, but when your body started shaking and the tears turned into sobs, he knew you needed to be held. He obliged, wrapping his arm around your side, pulling you closer to him and rubbing your side soothingly.

You instinctively laid your head on his side, wanting to curl into him as closely as you could, as if he could protect you from everything that’s wrong in the world. Everything that felt like it was out to get you.

“Have you had anything to eat?” He knew as soon as he asked it that you wouldn’t want to eat. He also knew that if you had been working all day that you wouldn’t take the time to stop and eat.

He felt you shake your head side to side, confirming what he already knew.

“I was about to make a quick dinner. I was thinking breakfast? Maybe some pancakes, eggs and bacon?” He ran his fingers through your hair, deciding to take your ponytail holder out and place it on his wrist. You sighed, the relief from the tension of your ponytail helping you feel slightly better.

“Please,” you said, knowing he was going to ask you if you wanted some either way. No matter if you made it into your dream schools or not, you still had to eat.

Nico slowly peeled himself off the couch, finally realizing how exhausted he was. Back-to-back games finally catching up with him.

You followed him to the kitchen, claiming stake to one of the barstools, watching him as he began to prepare the food.

“I know you probably don’t know, but what’s your backup plan? Are you going to apply to other schools?” He asked, cracking eggs into a bowl with pancake mix.

“No. I’ll have to wait until next year. I’m stuck here for another year, Nico,” your voice was strained and scratchy, but he understood you.

“That’s not all bad is it? I mean I’m here,” he attempted to make you laugh, but it was to no avail.

“My roommate is moving back home and I literally have no one else who I think I could room with. We both planned on this being it for Jersey,” you laughed, not out of humor, but at the thought of how much has gone wrong in 12 hours.

“What about staying with me?” He asked the question before he could catch himself. Would you see straight through to his true feelings for you, or would you just think he was extending a friendly offer to one of his friends who needed a little help.

“Nico, why the hell would you want me to move in with you? Have you met me?” Your puffy eyes made eye contact with his sweet ones.

Oh, how absolutely clueless you were. It would have been cute had it not been his feelings for you in the mix.

“You’re not that bad. I’ve definitely had worse roommates.” He smiled as he flipped the pancakes on the griddle and placed the eggs in a pan on the stove to cook.

“I can’t accept your pity offer,” you reached across the counter for a paper towel to catch the snot that was creeping out of your nose.

“Don’t think of it as a pity offer. Think of it as…what’s that word for when it’s not a parasite, but both things benefit?” He looked to the ceiling as if it held the answer to his missing word.

You laughed, finding it cute that he sometimes can’t think of the right English word he’s looking for.

“Mutualism?” You pitch the word to him, to which he points to you enthusiastically.

“That! Think of it as that. I mean, I could use a little help around here,” he motioned to his apartment.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’d have to think about it,” Your tears were becoming manageable with him trying to make you feel better. You’d internally think about everything that went wrong and tears would brim again, but when Nico talked it made it better.

“Well think about it,” he said, his bacon looking a tiny bit burnt as he transferred it from the pan to a dish to serve to you along with some scrambled eggs and a pancake.

You began to dig in to the food, Nico following close behind you as he fixed his plate and sat beside you. The two of you ate in silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a peaceful silence. It allowed for you to think and for him to think about you. He wanted to feel sad about you not getting into the graduate program, but a whole extra year with you? He couldn’t be too upset.

The two of you finished eating and washed your dishes, putting them up, Nico returning to the living room on the sofa and you putting your shoes back on.

“What are you doing?” Nico asked, his eyebrows raised inquisitively as he watched you tie your shoes.

“I’ve got to go home,” you said as you stretched your back.

“I’m not letting you drive home in this condition,” He started, ready to pitch his case for you to stay the night.

“You’re tired, upset, and you don’t need to be by yourself right now. Stay with me,” His eyes were practically begging you, but his tone was stern, evident that he would not be budging.

“I have no clothes-”

“I have some t-shirts.”

“I need to wash my hair and I have no shampoo or conditioner.”

“Nina left some here, use hers,” Nico had a solution to all of your excuses, making you realize that there really wasn’t a reason why you couldn’t spend the night.

“Just stay,” His voice was barely above a whisper, wrapping itself around your heart as you caved into him.

“Fine,” you sighed.

He showed you where all of Nina’s products were and laid out one of his old t-shirts on the counter in the bathroom. It was long enough to be a dress on you, swallowing you whole.

He ran the water for you and left you in the bathroom by yourself, causing you to let out a few silent sobs before getting in the shower, letting the hot water wash away the things you have no control over. You tried to think about the positives. You had Nico for another year.

Nico. Nico Hischier that held up your table all of those years ago. Nico Hischier that helped you study for every stupid exam you had. Nico Hischier that always ran to you first after every home game. Your Nico. Your best friend. The one that always had an open shoulder for you to cry on and open arms when you needed a hug.

Did guys treat girls like this that they just loved as friends? You sure as hell had never had one like him.

While thinking about all that Nico has been there for, tears begin to fall. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the possibility that Nico could be more than a friend. Would he feel the same? Would these newly discovered feelings be the downfall of your friendship?

Just as quick as the feelings surfaced, you shut it down. Nico meant too much to you for you to lose him over selfish feelings. Everything was perfect with him and your stupid little crush would not ruin that.

While you continued to shower, Nico changed the sheets on his bed, putting on fresh ones from the dryer so that you would be warm when you got in. He decided he would take the couch.

The smile that he had hidden while consoling you appeared as he prepared his apartment for you for the night. He thought about the possibility that you might move in with him, relishing in the idea that he could see you everyday when he woke up and at night when he went to sleep. Never ending movie nights and having his best friend 24/7…what possibly could be better?

You being his girlfriend. Would that come in time? Did he need to tell you his feelings or keep them to himself?

He had always been able to conceal his feelings, the fear of losing you greater than the pain of only being your friend. That had worked out fine, but when you rounded the corner of the hallway into the living room with his shirt hanging right above your knees and a pair of his long socks bunched on your leg, his breath hitched.

He let his eyes take in everything about you. The way your hair curled at the nape of your neck from the water, the random bruises that decorated your legs from being clumsy, a few pimples that dusted your face, only visible when your makeup was not, the random bit of mascara that you hadn’t managed to wash off.

He wanted you. He wanted you forever. He wanted you as his wedding date, his girl at the games. He wanted to share holidays with you, exchange anniversary gifts and plan birthday parties with you.

Everything in life he wanted to do with you.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He announced as he walked over to your small frame.

You were confused, about to open your mouth to ask him what he meant, but as soon as you realized he was leaning down to kiss you, your eyes grew wide in shock. His kiss cleared up what he meant.

He cupped your face with his hands, each thumb resting on your cheekbones as he very slightly pulled you closer to him.

Your lips moved in synch, making up for years of him loving you.

He noticed that you had a chapped spot on your lip, but he didn’t mind. The taste of strawberries from your lipstick from earlier lingered, causing him to deepen the kiss, never wanting to forget that taste.

You pulled away, needing to breathe. His eyes were still the soft brown ones that you loved, but you could tell that they looked at you differently from how you thought they did. Just standing in a t shirt and socks, they made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world.

A smile pulled at your lips, causing him to follow, his dimple making an appearance on his face. His scruff itched your face, but you didn’t mind.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m upset you didn’t get into school because I’m not. Call me selfish or whatever, but I need you. You keep me grounded. I want you here with me. Move in here, find something to do while you wait to reapply. I just know there’s nobody else that I love the way I love you,” he ended his confession with a kiss to your forehead.

“Ok,” You whispered, not wanting the warmth of his body to ever be far from you.

“I love you, little lady. A lot more than you realize,” He smirked at the blush that spread across your cheeks, the rosy pink that highlighted your skin revealing the effect that this boy has on you.

He pulled you into him, hugging you as if you would be gone any second and he couldn’t let you go.

When he finally did let you go, you both hopped into his bed and began watching Harry Potter, starting with The Prisoner of Azkaban since he knew that was your favorite one.

You fell asleep first, your head resting on his chest as he scratched your back. When he noticed the soft snores escaping your mouth, he smiled to himself. This was how it was meant to be. You and him.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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drak3n · 4 months

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REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA

CONTENT WARNINGS: exes to lovers trope, smut, angst, mean naoya, praise, (consensual) recording and sending of sextape, creampie — scroll down for smut!

sena’s note: i love him no matter what y’all say 😻😻

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who hated his job and working in general; whose father had more than enough money as he owned a lot of buildings and offices all over kyoto

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who had been forced by his father to do something after getting his business degree, something other than enjoying his life, spending his daddy’s money and traveling the world

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who hasn’t really been the same ever since your breakup two years ago; who was in denial for the longest time about missing you until he decided to make peace with his mistakes and move on… try to move on

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who knew you had moved on a long time ago, as he had seen multiple pictures of you with another guy on your socials, pictures where you looked at someone else the way you used to look at him

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t give a damn about his clients and whether they liked a place or not, but who was still very good at his job due to his cunning and manipulative ways

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t really look at his next client’s name, all he knew was that they were in dire need of an apartment for one person

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who showed up to the apartment he’d found, a shabby place that was way too expensive for the state it was in, but they didn’t have to know, right?

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who stood in the dim living room on old, croaking parquet with his expensive, shiny dress shoes and crisp, perfectly tailored suit, hearing the doorbell ring

➩ REAL!ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who ripped the door open just to see his ex-girlfriend he had wasted spent three years of his life with

the first thing naoya noticed was that you looked like shit. not even in an offensive way. you just looked terrible. sleepless, sickly, with crinkled clothes and messy hair. back then, you made sure to look presentable even on your worst days.

he didn’t think he’d ever see you again. especially not in such a state.

“naoya?” your voice was hoarse, and you made no move to crack a smile. he didn’t smile either. “my coworker organized this, i didn’t know it was going to be you. i’ll just leave and—”

“stupid. come in.” the apartment wasn’t very inviting, and naoya’s face wasn’t either, but it was better than spending any more time outside in the cold. your jacket was too thin for the weather, as you still hadn’t had time to pick up all of your things from—

“how are things goin’ with your boyfriend?” silence. you didn’t bother asking how he knew you had someone else… used to have. you picked on the laces of your coworker’s hoodie she’d let you borrow, seated on the run-down couch while he opted to stand. of course he wouldn’t sit on a couch that wasn’t made of exquisite, original leather.

“we broke up,” you stated after some time, not quite meeting his amber eyes, “that’s why i need a new place.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who almost laughed in your face at that; and who let his bitterness of the breakup get the best of him as he told you that he knew that no one else would be a good match for you, reminding you of the words he had spat at you two years ago

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t bother stopping you as you left the shitty apartment through tears, and who didn’t care until he received a call from your coworker demanding to know what the hell happened because you hadn’t talked ever since the incident

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who found out from your coworker that you were staying with her, whose jaw tightened when he heard that your ex-boyfriend dumped you for his ex who moved in with him immediately and wanted you out of the apartment

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who appeared at your coworker’s apartment days later — after finally checking the data sent to him by her — while she was at work and you had a day off, and who looked at your miserable state when you opened the door

“do you really want to give that ugly bastard the satisfaction of being all depressed?” he sneered, hands shoved into the pockets of his brown dress pants. you didn’t see how his hands twitched in anger at your condition. he always hated seeing you like that. it was him who was supposed to be moody and grumpy, not you.

“did you come here to make me feel even worse?” you bit the insides of your cheek, feeling self-conscious at how polished he looked while you looked like you were homeless. technically, you were. “you got what you wanted, naoya. i’m unloveable. are you happy now?”

he kept quiet for a few seconds, and you took it as a sign to shut the door. before you could, he stopped you.

“pack your things. you’re staying with me.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who didn’t take no for an answer and nearly smirked in victory when he had you sitting in his passenger seat just like back when you were his

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who frowned upon seeing that you only had very few clothes, meaning that most of your things were still over at that bastard’s place

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who heard you crying yourself to sleep that same night in the guest room he offered you, and who shrugged innocently when you asked the next morning how your bags of belongings were suddenly standing in the middle of the blonde’s spacious living room; “someone set them down in front of the door. must’ve been your colleague.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who watched you open up more and start smiling again, and who felt something inside of him blossom once more, something that had never quite withered away to begin with

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who couldn’t be happier when you asked if he was willing to try again with you, more maturely this time, and who knew you were dying to get revenge on your shithead of an ex as much as he was

“arch your back more— yeah. fuck.”

a breathless chuckle was heard and you wiggled your hips, face buried in silky pillowsheets as you heard the sound of your phone recording. “n—naoya, please—” his hand massaged the flesh of your ass greedily, and you whined.

your thighs shook in excitement as naoya slid inside of your already drenched cunt, and you moaned loudly into the fabric as you started fucking yourself on the cock you had missed so, so much.

“hey, y’see that?” he wasn’t talking to you. you could tell from how condescending and arrogantly he spoke. “look at how she’s moving so prettily for me. s’your new bitch doing the same for your ugly ass? i doubt it.”

your phone camera captured your body glistening with sweat, shoulders and ass littered with hickeys and bite marks, and naoya made sure to record where your bodies connected, revealing how your squelching pussy pushed out a ring of your combined arousals.

“fun fact.” he kept talking while shallowly thrusting into you, kissing your womb with every push. “she’s lettin’ me hit it raw. never let ya do it, hm? because no one can compare to me, right baby?”

your trembling body along with the muffled squeal you let out was proof enough as you were tipped over the edge, squeezing naoya deliciously. he grunted, hips stilling before he pulled out. in your fucked-out state, you barely registered naoya’s digits spreading your lower lips to record how his cum oozed out of you.

your ex could never.

“and no one can compare to her. fuckin’ perfect pussy. look at what you’ll never have, son of a bitch.”

➩ REAL ESTATE AGENT!NAOYA who was disgusting, but who grinned widely when your shaky fingers pressed send before you chucked your phone aside to take one or two more loads that night

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seravphs · 11 months

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — NANAMI x FEM READER

Gojo sets you up with your future husband in the middle of English class.

wc — 700

tags — Gojo’s annoying ass, stay at home husband Nanami, title from manga of the same name

“Honey, I’m home,” you call.

Immediately, Nanami comes to the door clad in his pastel yellow apron with little ducks. It matches his hair and complements his pink dish gloves perfectly.

“I’d hug you but I’m a little dirty at the moment,” he says.

“Who cares?” You wrap your arms around him to his spluttered protests.

When he falls suspiciously silent, you look up to see what’s wrong. You follow his soft gaze to the ring on your finger, your arms still looped around his neck.

“You know I hate owing Gojo anything, but I really am grateful for this one,” he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

It is thanks to Gojo that you got married, after all.

In high school, Gojo Satoru was a menace who loves meddling in your love life. He treated you like a little sister, which meant he was also comfortable doing whatever he wanted to you without consequence.

You should’ve known better than to trust him, but he piques your interest when he asks, “Hey, you know Nanami from our econ class?”

“I do not dream of labor Nanami?” You ask.

“All jobs are shitty, this is just slightly less shitty Nanami?” Chimes in Yuki across the table.

“Even when I’m asleep the only thing I think about is money Nanami?” From your side, even Utahime is interested in the conversation, a rarer occasion than a eclipse.

“That’s the one!” Gojo beckons you closer. Of course, you stay right where you are, because you don’t trust him. He crooks his fingers at you again, coaxing, “Come on, come on. Don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, have it your way,” he says, rolling his eyes. Then, at a volume completely unnecessary and loud enough for everyone within a five mile radius to hear, he all but yells, “You would like Nanami! I’m setting you two up.”

You would slap him, but he’s faster, catching your arm like he anticipated the blow. He probably did.

“Gojo, what the fuck?!” You hiss.

“Shhh, I’m doing you a favor! My two most boring friends, one ambitious, one indolent - you two are a match made in heaven.”

You squint at him. “Isn’t Nanami the top of our class? He works harder than anyone else, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Okay, but it’s not because he wants to. He hates working, he just wants to live comfortably. You see where I’m going with this?”

You really, really don’t.

“God, do I have to spell everything out for you? I really am a blessing to you poor-“

“Gojo.”

“Fine, whatever! Let’s do the math. You want to become a CEO or something, I wasn’t really paying attention when you told me about it. Nanami wants to be a live in housewife who’s only job is to cook, clean, and love his partner. One plus one equals two, he can be your housewife.”

“I can be what now?” You refuse to turn around, like if you can’t see him, he’ll go away eventually. He must’ve been summoned by Gojo’s annoyingly loud volume.

Gojo has no such shame. “Perfect, I don’t even have to go looking for you! I’ll leave you two to it. Use protection or actually don’t, so you can give me godchildren!”

He dodges your attempt at murder for the second time and skips off, humming to himself. You’re never speaking to him again, you resolve. Nanami’s presence looms at your back, stiff and uncomfortable. How do you break the ice?

“You…don’t have to be a househusband,” you offer. That is not the way you wanted to start your introduction, but for some reason your mouth won’t stop moving no matter how much you beg yourself to shut up. “We can be double income, if you want, but I’m sure I can make enough for both of us.”

You’re silently begging the ground to just swallow you up to escape your earthly torment when he laughs. It’s a pretty thing, not like bells or wind chimes as the books describe, but beautiful nonetheless.

He smiles down on you as he says, “I’m okay being a househusband if you’ll have me.”

#sera writes #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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sugarlywhispers · 4 months

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the fall | b.katsuki - prohero!reader goes undercover

☆– warnings; heart breaking ANGST, a bit of comfort, not a happy ending or well, it is, just not the one you expect, vulnerable!Bakugou Katsuki.

☆– a.n; i don’t know how many times i have deleted, rewritten, deleted again and rewritten again this piece lmao i consider it a win the fact that i just finished it xD also, i don't know if this will have a continuation… thou there’s a high chance that it does because i loved the way it ended lol enjoy <3

If Bakugou Katsuki could be properly honest he would openly admit that being a Pro Hero sucked , approximately eight times out of ten. Mostly it wasn't for the times injuries went worse than expected or felt worse as time progressed and the getting old finally settled in the bones. If he could be entirely open about it, the worst part was when a hero had to take undercover work.

Bakugou hates it. He hates it so much, he could quit. And that was a realization that unsettled him, because this was what he had dreamt about since he was a shitty brat kid: kick shitty villains asses from left to right.

But he got to actually accept and admit this particular annoying, and again, shitty fact, his resentment about that specific part of the job, when it was your turn. When you had to go undercover, and so deep into it, that it had been two years… two fucking years, since he got any news about you.

How fucking dared you. He was–is your best friend, right? Then why not send him even a simple 'I'm okay, still alive' message. Not even a quick phone call where he could at least hear your breathing; he would know it's you, because he knew everything about you. Well–not everything as he would like to. But he was your friend, you had confided in him plenty of times, you had been his partner since you were a little brat from UA doing your internship and he was the newbie Hero in charge of you. You have been through good and shit together. Was it too difficult to just let him know you were fine, fucking alive? Were your new surroundings too dangerous for you to not give any signs of life to any of your friends? If it was dangerous, why the fuck haven't him, or Red Riot or even shitty Deku, been sent to help you?!

Bakugou took another deep breath, face laying over the stinky bar table, hand holding a glass of something he couldn't fucking remember Ejirou said it was. Probably a shot of tequila with lemonade, given the strong flavor in his mouth. Fuck, he wished it was something way more stronger, like firewisky or some shit like that.

"Mina was right. You do look like trash," shitty hair smiled, knowingly and even mockingly at him, which infuriated Katsuki more.

"Shut up, ass." He wasn't drunk, but he wished he was. Katsuki couldn't get drunk because he had patrols to run that same night, he was not an irresponsible asshole, no matter what and no matter who.

But he did wish he could drink himself to sleep. He hadn't been sleeping quite well lately– or more like over two fucking years. Katsuki sighs. He knows he is exaggerating. He knows you. You don't need him to worry about you, you can definitely take care of yourself and he has witnessed how capable you are of it plenty of times already. Damn, you once even kicked his ass for being a jerk– he won't admit it, but that was the day he actually started seeing you more than just a friend. Coincidentally, it was three days before you had to go undercover. What a bitch of luck.

"Todoroki said they were going to scout some of us to go look after her," that brought Bakugou's attention back, sitting up straight and looking directly at his best friend's serious expression on his face.

"I'm in."

Kirishima sighs, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fuck you. I'm going..." Katsuki begins his protest but Ejirou doesn't let him continue.

"Katsuki!" Both friends look at each other's eyes for a moment without saying anything. Until Kirishima confirms out loud, "You love her."

The blond stays silent, not admitting or denying it, looking at his best friend's eyes that turned completely professional and determining.

"I will go." He presses firmly and with no room open for discussion, which makes Kirishima sigh.

The red head looks down at the glass he is holding with his drink, a cocktail that had a bit of ron and orange juice, as he plays for a moment with his fingers around it. He takes a sip of it, and after he puts the glass back on the table, he looks back at Katsuki's eyes and says, "I'm not here to invite you to go. I'm just being your fucking best friend in letting you know about this."

Bakugou growls looking elsewhere but his best friend, annoyed that he lost the discussion. He knows by Kirishima's stance and words he is not fucking going, and it innervates him.

He really doesn't want to think about it now. He doesn't want to think about you . He doesn't want to worry yet all he does is worry . For you. For your wellbeing. For the situations you probably have gone through, alone. Not with him around to take every blast he could for you. Not with him to kick some sense in that stubborn head of yours, and vice-versa.

Fuck. He worries so fucking much it is already affecting his head, his performance in battles, his everything. Katsuki had even taken more work than he should trying to keep his mind busy to not think about you.

Kirishima knows. He had known all the bullshit Katsuki was building up inside him for a while now. He always knew when something was off with his best friend. So he invited him to have some light drinks so they could talk a bit, even though that is the least thing Bakugou would ever do. Especially about his feelings. However, Kirishima knows. He has always known.

And he was not letting his friend alone to drown in his feelings.

Bakugou looks at his friend when he feels his hand grab his shoulder. The intensity in Ejirou's eyes makes Katsuki's throat tighten.

"I will bring her back."

"I'm-..."

The explosion makes the ground tremble, and it was enough to sober Bakugou and Kirishima up.

They don't hesitate to run out of the bar and towards the place where it came, where also everyone seemed to run away from. It took them less than three minutes to arrive and both of them sigh in relief when they see they aren't the only heroes at the scene, as even Deku was already there in his costume, holding at least four villains under him. Uravity was close, she had at least ten floating in the air with her Quirk, and was setting one by one on the ground again as another hero would catch and restrain them, before guiding them towards the police cars. The scene is pretty much under control, so that makes Katsuki relax a bit.

Ejirou moves to action, offering help wherever he could. Him and Katsuki walk towards Deku, helping him with the four under him that are struggling forcefully.

Deku smiles thankfully to his friends.

"There's the bitch," says the one Ejirou is holding from the back of his shirt.

"She's fucking dead," threatens the one Katsuki is holding, which makes him angrily manhandle the scum.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Fuck you, hero!"

Katsuki doesn't have time nor the patience for this, so he doesn't care when he pushes the villain inside the car way more forcefully than he should.

Deku comes running to them as the cars take their way, and he says hopefully, "Have you seen Y/N?"

Katsuki's entire being ignites at the mention of your name. The thought of just seeing you again makes something move inside his gut that is annoyingly satisfying.

"She's back?" Katsuki hates how hopeful his own voice sounded.

"Y-yes?" Izuku frowns, "Wait, you didn't know?" He looks at both friends perplexed.

"Know what?" Ejirou asks this time.

Izuku sighs. "This villain group was a big one that settled in America, where Y/N went undercover. They were planning to attack this base intending to rob the machine that scientists were creating that apparently could send someone to the past. This group wanted to go back in time to erase the source of Quirks, so they could control everything."

An unpleasant chill went down Katsuki's back.

"Y/N has been undercover all this time, working and proving herself so she could get in… She even got in the higher ranks so they would trust her and she could fakely guide them here, where there's nothing but a handful of heroes hiding in this abandoned building ready to catch them."

Deku sounds proud, which Katsuki could comprehend. Not that he would admit that out loud. But wait, that means…

"How do you know this?"

"She hasn't been in contact directly with me, Kacchan, but my agency has been in this case since the beginning and there were loops where she could send information. She couldn't be close to anything or anyone from here or she could have been in a huge danger. But one of my sidekicks has also been undercover with her. He was the loop. From what he told us, she climbed very high; with a Quirk like hers, I'm not surprised she was the only strongest in there. I wonder if-..." Deku went on and on with his mumbling in fascination with Quirks.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. He really doesn't have time to listen to him. He wants to find you, so he simply walks away in search of you.

Two years. It had been two years.

He ends up running towards the entrance of the building, looking around, eyes searching desperately for a sight of you. Heroes and villains around made it a bit difficult, coming and going, running and catching.

Until he finally sees you at a distance.

You are standing there, on the side of the scene, watching as every villain gets taken by some hero and put into custody of the police. The wind around is making your hair float to the side. You have dyed its color, which makes Katsuki think that no matter the color, you still look beautiful. You are beautiful, end of sentence.

But the expression on your face isn't the one of a Hero enjoying victory.

The villains were shouting stuff, and it isn't until he actually pays attention to what they are saying that makes him groan in anger. Why? Because they were shouting swears and threats at you.

And you simply stand there, not responding and receiving everything they throw at you. That makes Katsuki frown. You have never been that cold, that quiet against villains. Where was your fire? Your hatred towards those scumbags-good-for-nothing?

But then your head faced forward, in the direction towards where he was standing. Bakugou's entire being is shaking in anticipation, hoping, thriving for this reunion. Then he sees your eyes. Eyes that were colder than ice. Eyes that showed only a glance of how broken your soul was. And it hurts Katsuki's own heart to see you like that.

Your eyes didn't seem to recognize him at first. Like you were seeing a very distant and almost forgotten thought, a memory that had been pushed to the deepest part of your mind and now just watching him made your brain hurt while trying to figure out the memory.

You then realize it's him , your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and you smile slightly. A smile that doesn't reach your eyes. It is the kind of smile that means "cool to see you, but not very happy about it".

Your eyes go back to the scene, smile wiped from your face and the stoic, cold expression back on your whole being.

"It's The Fall," Deku suddenly appeared next to Katsuki, making the blond jump a little, which he faked it like he was just changing the weight of his body from one foot to the other.

"The fucking what?" Katsuki asks, a bit pissed that he got caught off guard.

"The Fall. When heroes go undercover, they have to pretend to be somebody else," Katsuki rolls his eyes exasperated.

"I fucking know what undercover means, Deku."

"You're not listening, Kacchan!" Deku turns to him, looking quite serious. "The Fall happens when the hero has to return, has to stop pretending to be someone else. And then, they find themselves with the question of whether whomever they were pretending to be was their real self or not."

Katsuki gulps. "I didn't-..."

"Of course you didn't, Kacchan. You have always been you. Fight or die. Hell, I even didn't, because I have always only wanted to be a Hero. But not everyone-..."

"Oh fuck," the blond swears, finally realizing.

You are in a limbo. In trying to remember who you were, who you are and not; what you should do and not. The Fall was winning over you, as you suddenly moved to help a woman that apparently was on your villain team.

Katsuki doesn't waste time. He runs towards you, picking you up by the waist and walking away from the scene, towards the small alley next to the building, as Deku recaptures the other woman.

"Y/N!" He tries to reason with you as you start to kick him, arms and legs swinging in the air to try and catch him, hit him with all your might. "It's me! It's Bakugou! Katsuki!" You are screaming, not stopping to struggle, as he drags you away from everyone that could see.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU FUCKING HERO –..."

You stop every movement and scream as you realize what you just said. He finally gets to circle his arms around your chest, yours trapped under his big ones. Katsuki is breathing heavily. Fuck, he had forgotten how strong you could get.

"Hero," he repeats in your ear as you settle and relax a bit in his arms. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms holding you strongly. "I'm a Hero, Dynamight, Ground Zero," he said, "Great Explosion Murder God," he tries to joke, his throat tight and almost closed with emotions he was trying to hold back –this is not the moment for them–, saying whatever he could to help your memory remember him, "It's me, Y/N, Katsuki … Your 'Tsuki."

Sillence. Only your rapid intakes of breaths are heard between you two. Still, he doesn't dare to let you go. He feels like if he does, you will slip from in between his fingers like liquid, droplets of water impossible to tame or hold back. If he let you go, you are going to fucking disappear, like smoke impossible to catch, and fly very far away from him to never return.

Bakugou Katsuki is not willing to lose you again.

Your body starts to tremble as you sob, as you cry with all your might in Katsuki's arms. And his heart breaks for you.

"Shh , it's okay. I've got you, love. I'm here…" He soothes you, hands and arms holding you tight against his chest as you cry loudly. His hands start to caress the skin of your arms as he kept whispering into your ear.

Your cries are so intense and painful to hear for him, breaking every piece of his heart for you. He can feel your legs giving up, so he kneels with you on the dirty ground, not letting you go from his arms for even a second.

You suddenly turn in his arms, facing him. Yours surround Katsuki's neck and you hug him strongly, " Katsuki," you cry in his neck, and he wishes he was able to physically take the pain you're feeling right now and throw it very far away. Or even if he had the choice to trade it with you, he would. He would carry your pain, your sorrows, your everything, for you.

"I'm here. I'm here," he repeats as you cry, softly caressing your back with his hands.

Katsuki doesn't know how much time you waited there –now sitting on the ground, his back against a wall while you sat all curled up against his chest and in between his legs– but he notices everything is done and over when Deku peeks from a corner, holding his thumb up in sign that probably everyone had gone from the place. The blond nods, and Deku takes that as a sign that he could get close. His movements slow, careful to not startle you, put you still tense in Bakugou's arms when you hear footsteps.

"It's Izuku, love." Katsuki doesn't know where he learnt to be this careful and cozy with people, he thinks it's your fault. You have been the one who taught him so many things, that it actually doesn't surprise him when his big ass hands caress carefully and softly your head, reassuring you on that touch that it's okay to let go of him a bit. "Midoriya Izuku?" He tries his friend's real name, the one name he is sure you would be glad to hear–apart from his. But you simply respond by grabbing Katsuki harder, not letting go. "Hero Deku? Or… shitty Deku," he feels his chest puff in satisfaction when you try to hide your smile against his chest.

"Ha. Ha. Funny Kacchan…" Deku says, sitting on the ground right in front of you. Very different from you, Katsuki can not hide his own smile –not that he would even try to, which makes Deku roll his eyes and also smile. "How are you feeling, Y/N-chan?"

You exhale deeply; the long, tired sigh being answer enough, but you still say, "Like… all of this is a dream. Everything feels… surreal .” You gulp, finally pulling away a bit from Katsuki. He simply let you, hand still caressing your back in confort. “Like I’ll wake up any moment and be laying on the mattress on the floor in that one room apartment I live–used to… live.”

They both notice your slip as you frown and slide a hand through your lock in a clear frustrated sign.

“I don’t know… what’s fact and what’s fake anymore… I…” The tears fill your eyes once again, your hand now grabbing the beginning of your hair. Katsuki immediately grabs your wrist trying to make you let go. “I feel angry and sad… I feel devastated by what happened… But I also feel relief, and– I don’t know what’s the correct way to feel. I don’t fucking know who I am anymore!”

Katsuki hugs you again, rocking from side to side and hushing, whispering that everything is going to be okay.

He feels Izuku’s eyes on him, on both of you. And even if the fucker hasn’t said anything yet, Bakugou knows. FUCK. He fucking knows what his best friend is going to do. So he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Fighting his own tears back.

But he can’t hold them longer after he opens them and sees Aizawa standing at a distance. Waiting patiently. Katsuki hugs you tighter.

“Y/N-chan…” Izuku says, his gloved hand pressing on your shoulder to get your attention. “You need help. Until everything settles back into you, you need someone that can help you with this. Do we agree?”

You nod, crying and sniffing as you pull away again, and this time is Katsuki’s turn to not want to let you go. His arms grab you stronger for a moment as he hides his face on your neck.

He doesn’t want to let you go. He just got you back. He has so much to say and do and prove. He doesn’t fucking want to let you go again.

Katsuki is in denial, he knows. And he also knows he is the most selfish bastard alive for not wanting to let you go so you can properly heal. But everything he has gone, without you, and now having a little taste of getting you back, whether that be even half of you… FUCK! He definitely sounds like the most egotistic, selfish motherfucker of all.

When he’s about to finally let you go, he feels your hand tangle in the back of his head in his hair. And when his eyes find yours, he sees it. He sees the need you have of him, the sadness, the joy, the kindness, everything… He sees the want, the care, the despair . So many emotions it’s even difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

And he sees it. The love…

“If there's something I haven’t forgotten is how I feel about you. But you don't deserve the me of right now…” He shakes his head in denial, his hands holding your face and cleaning your tears with his thumbs. “I will get better… I will come back for you.”

You smile at him, and a simple action hasn't hurt so much as this. Like someone stabbed him with a knife on his chest, right where his heart is. And he’s left there, bleeding towards his death as you caress his cheek delicately one more time and stand up and walk crying towards your old teacher.

Katsuki knows it is for your health and wellbeing, but who’s going to convince his heart that this isn’t again the last time he sees you? That you will come back, that you will look for him in your return.

He brings his knees towards his chest, arms hugging them and hiding his face there. And Katsuki cries. Like a child.

He feels Izuku’s movement to sit next to him as one of his arms surround his shoulder, and he has never been grateful enough to the nerd for being the fucking best friend he has ever had.

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t look at you parting, walking away from him. He can’t.

But he wishes he had.

242 notes · View notes

waklman · 1 year

Text

Glue Song (Pt. 1)

summary: jake tries to keep your existence out of rooster’s knowledge. (friends to lovers, pining)

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: negative self talk

a/n: haven’t wrote in awhile but glue song by beabadoobee and tgm brought me back...ugh i can't i love pining jake.

word count: 2.5k

next part

“I respect the guy, but he is out of his damn mind.” You watch as Jake momentarily pauses his rambling to take another chug of the latte you brewed for him.

“Maverick must’ve hit his head while landing during the last mission. Yeah, that must be why.” he concludes, almost entertaining himself, imagining all the ways the old guy could have begun to lose his sanity.

If Jake wasn’t so annoyed, he would have laughed at the made up scenarios playing out in his head. And of course, voicing them to you afterwards so you could laugh with him.

Noticing that some of the neatly decorated whip cream from his drink had found a new home on his freshly shaved face, you wet your hands in the sink and mindlessly reached over the kitchen island to wipe at his sticky chin.

He blinks back at you, the annoyed expression on his face faltering at your touch.

“There was whip cream on your face. You hate when things get on your skin.” you carefully whisper, pulling your hands back to begin cleaning the dishes again.

Worry began to brew in your stomach, you might’ve crossed a boundary.

After processing what happens, Jake just hums, pursing his lips at you in thanks.

Your body unravels at the notion, the tense muscles of your shoulders relaxing itself.

Jake watches you intently, eyes scanning over every detail of you.

There is a beat of silence as you two acknowledge each other. Your eyes meet in silent conversation. So touching Jake’s face was allowed, you two had agreed without having to say a thing to each other.

As if nothing happened, Jake regains his posture and furrows his eyebrows together once more, signaling that he’s ready to continue his stream of complaints–this becoming a new routine for you two on weekends where you are both off from work.

You couldn’t help but to smile to yourself in moments like these. Moving to San Francisco on your own was not an easy decision. Stability has always been something you craved, even if it meant not putting yourself first. But it quickly wore you out with time. You had a job you were unhappy with, shitty friends who you had kept around for the sake of having a social life, essentially trading in your sanity for the sake of stability. The knowledge that this might be how your life would span out, left you disoriented.

That one fateful summer was when you had decided it was time for a change, despite the fact it made you sick to your stomach to do something so sudden, especially all on your own. But, maybe a new location is just what you needed.

When you first arrived, reality hit you like a truck. All you felt was immense regret, you had no friends, you’re making less money now, and you didn’t know your way around San Diego at all. This wasn’t something you were used to, causing the doubts of your rash decision to eat at you whenever you had a moment to think to yourself. You should’ve never done this.

And as if your guardian angel saw your internal struggle, they sent Jake on your trail to ease all of it. All it took was his odd obsession with the way you specifically made his vanilla lattes, to keep him around—following your every move like he was tethered to you.

After a while Jake found himself not only sticking around for your applaudable barista skills, because there was you. Jake never realized he could possibly laugh so hard that it hurt until he started talking to you during his morning coffee runs. Before you, he had always thought that was just an expression–how was it possible to laugh that hard? And like any other guilty pleasure Jake had, he couldn’t help himself in indulging in you, not wanting to share you with anyone else.

After flight training, he’d unconsciously rush out of the locker rooms without saying goodbye to anyone in order to catch you after your shift. Just so he could walk you to your car as he accidentally bumps into you outside.

And as the weeks flew by, your shared activities quickly branched out from just friendly morning chats and Jake walking you to your car.

Now you found yourself spending weekends with him, where you had continued to make his coffee for him, but now just inside in the comfort of your own apartment. Playful conversations were had every morning, with you behind the counter and him seated across from you grinning ear to ear from hearing your laughter that he evoked from you. This became permanently ingrained into both your weekly routines. His excuse being that he can’t physically survive if you weren’t the one making him his morning coffee, so he obviously has to come see you every weekend. It was a no brainer, he told you.

“He is ridiculous.” he affirms once more before bringing his lips back around the rim, being more careful to not get his drink onto his face this time.

Although it might have seemed like he was rambling to himself, you had been nodding and quietly reacting to every statement he made thus far–assuring him that you were paying attention to him.

“That's funny, coming from the guy who was growing a whip cream beard one second ago.” you inquired.

“When did you stop being so nice to me?” he sulked, something he was specifically raised to never do. His father would have had a stroke if he knew his 30 year old son was habitually sulking now. But it couldn’t be helped, you drew out new behaviors from him, that he never felt ashamed about doing.

“If I knew you were like this, I would have never pestered you at work in the first place.” Though, Jake knew that if his day had been reset from the first day you two met, he’d undoubtedly pester you every single time.

“That’s too bad, isn't it?” You flicker some water on your finger tips at him.

“Hey, watch it missy.” he flinches, bringing a protective palm to hover over his drink.

“So, let me get this clear-” you redirected the conversation back to its original course.

Jake quickly shifts his attention away from the state of his drink and back to you.

“So Maverick..” he nods, confirming that you got his callsign right.

“...wants you and your co-worker Rooster to spend time together outside of work. At least once a week?” you cautiously recall what he told you.

“Yeah, isn’t that horrible?” he puffs his chest in defiance, expecting you to readily agree with him.

“Can’t be that bad though, right? Shouldn’t you two be working on becoming good friends, especially now that your dagger squad is an official detachment now? You’ll be seeing a lot of each other from now on.” you expressively shared your final thoughts with him.

He silently watches you rinse off the dishes as he soaks in what you said, with his brows pinched tightly together. You were right, he knew that.

“We get along fine, we’re kind of cool with each other after that first mission. Why be best buds?” he deflects.

“I want you to have more friends, Jake. Give it a shot.” you attempt to encourage him, while placing his dishes onto the drying rack carefully.

“I have you and Javy.”

“But you can also have Rooster. And who knows, maybe everyone else on the squad too.” you offered up with a smile.

“I have a week to plan our first bonding session.” Jake threw up his fingers in two sarcastic quotes.

“Cute. So like a date?”

You grinned widely watching Jake’s face fall flat.

“God. Please.” he scoffs, trying to fight off the smile making its way onto his face.

“Never call it a date, I’m begging you angel.” Oh. The endearment slipped from his mouth and Jake looked slightly mortified.

Well, it’s not like you weren’t an angel in his eyes anyways, he thought.

Ignoring the flush of heat rushing to your ears, you attempt to casually brush over what he said.

“How about. I lend you a hand, just this once.” Jake’s ear almost perks at your statement, instantly recovering from his slip up.

“I’ll set something up for you two down at the shop after I close up, all you have to do is show up.”

“Only question is, if you trust me enough with something like that.”

Of course I do, he thinks.

Jake wishes he could extract the part of your brain that made you doubt yourself so much. The blond couldn’t think of anything he wouldn't trust you with. And he’d seen you do it so often–second guess yourself, and he hated it. He hated how it made him feel–sick at the thought that you could possibly not believe in yourself.

“If I didn’t, would I be sitting here defenseless at your place?” He flashes his dimples at you in a reassuring smile.

Adoration fills you completely at the sight of him, his tousled morning hair and the creases set under his eyes, marked by his smile makes you glad you decided to take residency here. This feels right, Fightertown feels right. He feels right.

“You’re lucky my love language is acts of service, Jacob Seresin.”

“Mine is physical touch.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t believe me? Come here.” he raises his brows teasingly, getting up from his seat, making his way towards you.

“No. Stay back.” you panic, swatting away his already outstretched arms.

“So…what do we think?” you were basically jittering from where you stood, a poor attempt at holding back your overflowing excitement.

The two naval aviators stood side by side in front of you, almost mirroring each other perfectly. Expressions unreadable, hands on their hips, lips pursed and side eyeing each other—urging the other to speak first. Javy directs Jake to say something first by lifting his chin at him as Jake deadpans his best friend in response.

Between you and the pair of pilots sat a small table you manage to drag in the center of the cafe with a candle flickering in the center, surrounded by an array of chocolate croissants that you knew Jake had an insatiable craving for. The rest of the table was cramped with random assortments of new Valentines recipes you had been testing–and who better to try them than your reliable Jake and his new friend that you would assume to be in equal size as him.

And how could he possibly crush your excitement and tell you this looks absolutely terrifying, and that he would rather do 300 pushups under the unforgiving sun than sit at this romantic table and feast on your heart shaped cookies with the likes of Rooster.

“Well,” Coyote begins, not noticing the pointed glare Jake shoots at him.

Jake observes you begin to shrink in front of his eyes at Javy’s tone and immediately slaps his palm over his friend’s mouth, panicked at what he’ll start to say.

Javy stiffens, shocked that his germophobic friend had even put his hand on his face, recalling all the times Jake complained that Javy should start using cleanser for his “oily” skin. Jake even once swore he would rather eat dirt than touch Javy’s face after seeing sweat drip down his face after their first morning run together.

“It's perfect” he swallows back any sign of hesitancy under your careful gaze.

You know he’s lying for your sake. Although he sounds sure, you could see the prominent vein in his neck protrude, a tell tale sign that he’s feeling pressured.

“Jake..” the uncertainty in your voice makes him want to double over. Your shoulders have already slumped, his eyes frantically watching as your cardigan start to slip down your arms, exposing your bare shoulders.

Javy’s mouth parts as he watches Jake take a big step over to you, gently pulling the sleeves of your knit cardigan up to your shoulder blades again. His hands slowly moving down to your wrist, nervously playing with the cuffs of your sleeves.

Javy’s heart briefly swells at the sentiment, but he knows what he has to do. Jake would thank him for this later, he hopes.

Although Jake has to be the most horrifyingly fearless pilot Javy knows, when it boils down to situations like these–he knows his best friend needs a push in the right direction or else he’ll never take the leap of faith.

Javy pulls himself together.

“Admit that you hate it, Hangman” he speaks up, interrupting the moment.

Bewildered, Jake snaps his neck to face Javy from where he stood in front of you.

“I do not hate it.” his southern accent is now present from being provoked.

Javy feels glad for once that Jake is so stubborn.

“So you’ll happily sit here with Rooster?”

“Yes.” He answers almost immediately.

“Can we join you too?” Javy quickly shoots the question.

“Of course” he answers, right away.

Javy practically glows at the sight of Jake’s eyes shooting wide open, caught off guard by his own reply.

“Perfect. Rooster can hang with all of us.” Javy proudly grins.

Something unfamiliar swirls at the pit of his stomach. You, Javy, and him hanging out? Sure. That's fine, as long as he sits between you two. But You, Javy, him, and Rooster? It’s unpredictable.

When a bird flies straight into his jet unexpectedly, he can handle that–he can predict the outcome. When his jet is jeering towards a canyon and his eject button doesn't work, that’s fine he can predict his next move to get out safely. But the idea of you and Rooster in the same room makes his head spin out of control. Jake feels like his soul shifts out of his body for a moment.

“That’s a great idea Javy! Maybe we can sit in on this hangout so Jake is less nervous too.” you chime in, grabbing Jake’s hands sweetly, swinging them side to side to soothe his nerves.

His head lowers to watch the way your small hands grip at his own calloused ones–playfully swinging your arms left to right in unison in the small space between the two of you. His eyes soften at the sight.

“I want to hear what you guys think of my new recipes too..” you add on, shyly smiling up at Jake–silently asking if that was okay with him.

It's a done deal. He can’t take back what he says. Not when you're staring up at him like this, looking so tooth achingly sweet in his favorite white dress that you own.

“Yeah let’s do it..” he gulps.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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consistencynevermether · 2 months

Text

Winter Nights (Vere x gn!Reader) (Touchstarved)

content: verex reader, gender neutral reader, I tried to write this so any origin will work with this fic, SFW but Vere makes his usual jokes, cannon typical swearing, reader bullies Vere just the smallest bit but he does the same.

summary: Vere has a horrible day, not enjoying the ice-cold weather at all. you decide to help out your favorite sassy fox boy.

word count: 5.5k

A/N: In honor of us getting VERE LORE i made this little fic of him. ngl i just saw how much he hated snow and ran with it. im so obsessed w this bitch yall i love him sm.

Vere had had a shit day. In your first few weeks of arriving in Eridia you probably wouldn’t have noticed it. That demon Fox was notoriously good at hiding his feelings when he really wanted to. He'd misdirect your attention, complaining about how shitty the drinks are in the Wick when he was really upset about something else entirely. Something deeper he didn't want you to know about. Honestly, in the first few weeks here you probably didn't care much to know what he was upset about anyways, you were too busy trying to survive. But life in Eridia had settled down a bit after the first month or so. You had stable lodgings, you had picked up some odd jobs, using your specific set of skills to give yourself some income. You even had allies of sorts.

Leander had shown you the ropes of the cities and how to fit in with his Bloodhounds, Kuras had welcomed your assistance at the clinic (even if your help just amounted to laundry or organization), Ais enjoyed your occasional company in the red spring, and even Mhin had gifted you a well made dagger, their face blushing red as they insisted it was simply so you wouldn't be as useless as you had been that night they had met you. You'd even consider some of them almost friends now.

Yet out of all the characters you'd met since entering this city, Vere had been the one you had chosen to align yourself with in the quest to cure your curse. There was something dangerous beneath the surface of all of your new acquaintances, yet with Vere it was different. He knew more than he was letting on. He was more than he was letting on. Vain people like him usually loved to flaunt just how wealthy, powerful or clever they were, but he had always slyly dodged the topic. He was putting on an act, a performance where he was simply a beautiful face, and you knew it was bullshit. You’d be lying if you said curiosity was not a catalyst for choosing Vere as your closest companion, but you also had the sense that staying close to him was infinitely safer than opposing him. Something about keeping friends close and enemies closer.

But that was the other problem. Over these months, you saw Vere as less of an enemy and more like-

-Well, Saying friend was probably inaccurate. You kept your secrets close to your chest and Vere was far too fake with you for you to assume he trusted you. Yet, you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. He'd try to get a rise out of you by being an asshole and you'd reply with something snarky, clever, or just downright outrageous and Vere would let out a surprised bark of laughter. Real laughter, a high pitched guttural cackle, not like the fake laughter he uses around most, that breathless smooth chuckle you'd quickly figured out was fake as fuck.

Getting closer to Vere also meant learning things like that, when he was being fake or when he genuinely meant something. And although you'd never admit it, you loved that. Getting to know Vere better and getting rewarded with a real moment with him was like having a stray cat you'd been trying to get to trust you finally approach and sniff your hand before hissing and running off again. You knew that cat would be an asshole the next day, but you also know you'd be back the next day to see if you could get that cat to trust you a little more.

Though said cat (or more accurately fox) had been in a worsening mood recently. The months were getting colder, and when the first snowflake fell Vere’s scowl became more frequent, plus leander had been trying to get closer to you lately, and that man's mere presence could put Vere in a pissy mood for hours. You didn't quite understand his hatred for Leander, but you also had the feeling leander was just a little insane, so it might be genuinely good judgment on Veres part instead of him just being an ass to people for fun, like what he did with Mhin and Kuras. The real icing on the cake to complete Veres' bad mood was his hunting session that happened today. The Senobium had dragged him out at the crack of dawn to kill monsters and only loosened his leash late into the night, after the light snowfall had become more of a brutal sleet, the ice cold rain coming down in sheets. The temperature in Eridia always drops much lower in the nighttime, so by tomorrow you'd put money on the outside either being a slushy mess with ice coating every road, or be covered in a dusting of snow. Though you weren't too sure how likely either of those realistically were to occur, it was your first winter in Eridia. You hadn't even realized that you'd been here for so long the seasons had begun changing around you, but it was clear Vere had hated the colder months.

Your persistence in getting to know Vere, for reasons even you couldn't really explain, along with all these reasons, was why you knew he was going to be in the worst mood yet when he got back. You were by the bar, nursing some hot mulled wine when the door to the Wet Wick slammed open, Vere stomping in (probably to knock some of the slush off his boots and also because he was angry) and taking a seat at the bar next to you.

He didn't say a word to you, silently seething as he gave the bartender a silent look that meant “make this drink strong or i'll make your life miserable”.

Thankfully, the bartender was as reliable and quick on her feet as ever, ignoring Vere’s death glare but pouring him some non-watered down liquor. You were ever grateful for her ability to deal with the people of this city.

Veres' long scarlet hair was slightly plastered to his cheek, wet and freezing, with snow and sleet mixed in, tangling the long strands. You wagered a quick look at his tail, and it was just as bad, if not worse. A bit of mud had caked on the bottom of it, along with the blood of whatever monster they had had him hunting that evening. And the fine fur was drenched to the bone. He looked absolutely horrible, and hadn't said a word to you the entire time, just bitterly drinking his liquor and motioning for another pour.

That's how you knew this bad day was different from the rest. Usually when Vere was upset he'd let you know somehow. Whether it was turning up his nose at you to let you know your presence isn't wanted nor needed, or sometimes he'd rant for hours on how much he hated the Senobium or whatever else was bothering him. And no matter how mad he was, he'd never let you see him in such a disheveled state. It was hard for you to remember even a handful of times where Vere looked less than perfect.

But now? Looked like an absolute mess, and even stranger, he was just-

-just quiet really. If you didn't know better you'd almost think he was a little defeated. Like a person at their breaking point.

You couldn't help but feel sympathetic. Not too long ago you had felt that way, the face he wore now was like the one you wore on the caravan on the way to Eridia reminiscing about how you were betrayed, how your former life and everything you had up until that point was basically nothing but ashes now. It was not a good feeling.

You wanted to do something to help. For some reason you really wanted to do something to help. Luckily you had an idea. Well, hopefully luckily. You knew people who looked like that usually wanted to be left alone to seeth for a while. Or cry, depending on the person. But you wanted to help. If he didnt like it, then he could always leave, it's not like you'd force him to accept your help.

While he sipped what must have been his 3rd or 4th strong drink, you quietly slipped upstairs to your room, and began filling up the tub. A while back you had splurged and purchased a small mesh bag of a few bathing items, all of them lavender scented. You dumped them out to see what exactly you had to work with

A small bar of lavender soap

A single vial of Lavender bath salts

Some lavender hair oils

Lavender shampoo

And a small white comb, most likely made of some mid tier material, enough to do its job, but nothing stunning. This seemed like a passible amount of stuff for Vere right? You knew he was fancy and he probably had much higher quality items in greater amounts back wherever he lived, and what if-

Wait a damn minute. You were doing this out of the kindness of your frickin heart. If it wasn't nice enough for his stuffy ass then you'd just use the items yourself. Hell you already were a bit disappointed you didn't get to use this stuff yourself, more for you if he decided he didn't like it.

With that settled in your mind, you turned towards the now full tub and a smaller basin next to it, both filled with clear water, and began to use a simple spell to heat the water. Almost all humans had some potential to learn magic, and being able to heat water to steaming hot was an extremely basic magic, almost anyone could perform it if they knew what to do. You finished it off by pouring the bath salts into the tub and grabbing two towels out from your closet, one large one and one suited for drying hair, and laid them to the side along with the assortment of small lavender products you had gotten out. You then lit a few candles set on the sink, considering it was dark outside, and candles were now the only source of light in the bathroom. With that prepared and the bath still steaming hot, you headed back down to the tavern.

Vere was still there, still drinking some strong amber liquid. At least he was no longer shooting them back, but instead nursing the drink with slow sips. He was definitely at least a little buzzed, judging by the way he slightly tilted off the barstool.

You walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Vere. Hey Vere, are you still with me? Or are you more drunk than you look?”

The fox glared up at you for a second before he fixed his scowl, a look of boredom and slight amusement painted on his pretty face in an instant.

Fake bitch.

“Well, well, well. Here to keep me company now? I'll be honest, my standards are lowering with every glass I down, so keep trying and maybe you'll get lucky.” a lecherous smirk spread across his face as he spoke.

Sigh. he was so going to take this the wrong way.

“Lets go to my room”

“W-” Vere momentarily stumbled over his response. Probably only because he was drunk. Any other time and he would have absolutely dominated this situation easily, poking and preening about how you were not immune to his charms. And yet up till now he didn’t think you were the type to fall for his flirty act so easily.

And he was right, you were smarter than that. If you hadn't been he probably would have killed you by now.

“Hey.” you practically scolded. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Not for those reasons. Come on, up we go.” you said while grabbing his elbow gently to steady him as he got off the stool, just in case.

Mercifully, he let you lead him upstairs without complaint, probably out of curiosity on what the hell you were thinking.

When you opened the door to the bathroom, Vere was momentarily stunned looking at the steaming bath, but quickly put two and two together. It seemed this unexpected scenario had sobered him up a little bit. He instantly became more alert and aware of his surroundings.

Fair. it's not like you two were very soft and caring to each other. If anything you got along best when you were trying to out-snark each other. This was definitely out of character. But regardless his mask of calm indifference didn't falter a bit.

“Oh I see” he drawled. “Set to join me in the nude aren't you? My goodness you could have just asked if you were this desperate to see me undress, I might have only made you beg a little.”

His smugness was palpable at this point. Why were you doing all this for him again? Bitch-ass sad soggy fox.

You pushed your annoyance to the side. If you reacted to his bullshit he'd get what he wanted.

“Actually yes I was planning on joining you. But not in the bath.” you responded.

“Oh? And what exactly are you planning on doing?” his questioning was genuine, as if he actually had no idea what you were thinking.

You held up the comb that came with the rest of the bath items you planned on using.

“I'm going to rip those knots out of your hair if it kills you.” you deadpanned.

The look of genuine fear on Veres' face for a split second when you said that was worth all the effort.

After assuring him that you wouldn't actually rip out any of his hair (on purpose at least) and then additional promises that you would be gentle, Vere finally relented and began to strip down. As soon as he did you turned around, waiting until you heard him submerge himself in the tub before turning back around. You knew he thought about making a comment about you turning around to let him undress, but thankfully he seemed too worn out to poke you any further.

He let out a slight gasp, and then sigh of contentment as he sank into the waters. When you had left to go fetch Vere from the bar the water was basically boiling, but it had cooled in the time it had taken you to get him up here, so it was just a little too hot to be perfect, but that meant a longer time in the warm water. Something Vere definitely needed, it was going to take a while to detangle and clean this mess.

You handed him the soap, then took the smaller basin and poured a gentle stream over his head before grabbing the shampoo and lathering it up into a froth in his hair. If there was one thing you had learned, it was how to make a little supply last a while, so you only used about half the small bottle on his hair, making sure to massage all the way down to his roots and ensuring every inch of dirt would be rinsed out. You also made a conscientious effort not to disturb the chains around his neck. Tonight was not the night to try to sneak a peek at them. Not that it would do much good with how low the lighting was in here.

True to your words, you tried to be gentle for the process, and you could feel Vere eventually relax under your touch, taking a break from scrubbing himself with the soap to lean back and close his eyes while you continued to work the shampoo into his hair. You were glad he was relaxed, but the last thing you needed was him falling asleep in the tub, especially after all the booze he'd had. You grabbed the basin and poured another stream of water on his head to wash out the shampoo, the water in the smaller container now closer to mildly warm than hot.

After the shampoo was out it was time for the oils. And the comb. As you Began to massage the oils in, you felt Vere tense up once again. It was like he was fighting between exhaustion and being on high alert. Was your presence really this stressful to him?

You leaned down right next to his velvety ears and tried to keep your voice as quiet and non-stress inducing as possible as you spoke.

“Hey. I promised I would be gentle. Relax” you whispered, the fur of his ears slightly brushing up against your lower lip as you spoke.

For some reason when you said that Vere went completely still for a second.

Seriously? Was your entire presence just so annoying to him that he absolutely could not relax around you? Honestly that felt a bit hurtful. You could be so nice when you wanted to! Just look at what you were doing for him now!

You shrugged off the sting of rejection at Veres discomfort at you and began to massage the oils into his hair.

First you gently felt out the knots with your bandaged fingers, taking care to rub the oils into each one and loosening the knot. Then you started to comb them out. Taking extra care to go slow and try not to tug too much, Vere eventually relaxed again and finished up using the bar of soap on his skin, saving his face for last so he could dunk his head under to rinse out the soap and hair oils in one go.

It took a hot second, but Veres' hair was smooth as silk once again. A selfish part of you wished you could run your fingers through it without the bandages, but that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, if ever.

Satisfied with your work, you fully stood up and handed Vere the remainder of the shampoo, oils and comb.

“For your tail” you said as you passed along the objects. “Do not fall asleep”

Just before leaving you tested the waters' warmth. Lukewarm. You quietly summoned the magic needed to add a little more heat to the water. Just enough so he’d have enough time to properly wash out his tail. With that you gathered up his pile of clothes and headed out of the bathroom.

Usually you just washed your clothes in the basin in the bathroom with a cleaning solution and then left them to dry on the very, very small balcony your room hosted, but Veres clothes were of infinitely higher quality than yours, so doing that might ruin them. Not to mention your modest balcony was currently being blasted by the cold weather.

There wasn't anything you could really do, so you just folded up the clothes and opened your closet to see what other options there were. You could let him borrow something of yours, but something told you he wouldn't appreciate that, not even considering the fact that it definitely wouldn't fit him perfectly like all his outfits did. His clothes were definitely custom made.

Then, something caught your eye. Last time you were helping at the clinic, someone had kindly gifted some linens and basic white clothes to the patients who might need some (like you had), and in the mix there had been a few fluffy bathrobes. Kuras had kindly gifted you one considering there wasn't too much use for that in the clinic, and it had been sitting in your closet ever since. It wasn't fancy by any means, but it was good quality. And as long as you didn't tell Vere you got it from Kuras he probably wouldn't protest too much.

You walked back over to the bathroom door and rapped your knuckles on the door twice.

“Hey I’m going to hand you a bathrobe. Are you out of the tub?” You called through the door.

You heard the faint sound of bare feet on tile and the door open as vere stood before you, the smaller towel currently in his hands being used to dry his hair while the larger towel was draped over his now clean tail.

Needless to say, you kept very strong eye contact as he took the robe from your hands and slid it on.

You watched him feel the plush of the robe, a very tired but somewhat satisfied look on his face. The quality of the fabric had met his standards apparently (probably just barely). Then he turned towards your bed, walked over, and flopped down on said bed.

Well, you weren’t exactly expecting him to go back out in this weather, but still. You really wanted to sleep in your bed tonight.

Veres' muffled voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his words muddled by the pillow he was currently face planting into.

“What???” You responded.

“I said brush my tail” he huffed before nodding to the comb from earlier he left on the other side of the bed, which he had left untouched, seemingly content with just half the bed.

Well, this kinda meant he was willing to share right? No floor for you tonight, and all you had to do was preen this peacock of a Fox.

You situated yourself on the bed and began to gently brush out the mountain of damp fur in front of you. Luckily he had done a solid job of washing his tail, it was a lot easier to brush out than his hair had been.

He flicked it occasionally, the fur brushing up against your nose more than once. His normal spiced scent was now overpowered by lavender. You involuntarily inhaled the scent, remembering it was known to relax people into sleep. (Kuras had told you that once).

“Please, try to contain yourself.” He cooed at you before flicking his tail at your face once again. “I always smell incredible, no need to act all enamored”

You let out an annoyed huff.

“Sure you do.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Excuse you” Vere turned on his pillow to look at you through half lidded eyes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” You quipped, focusing on his tail to look busy.

You were avoiding the question instead of bantering with him, that’s how Vere knew you were being honest. You actually thought he smelled bad.

“What?” His eyes narrowed as he spoke.

“Hm?”

“What do I smell like to you?”

You avoided eye contact and continued to really focus on brushing his tail.

“Hey!” He sat up now, and looked ready to wrestle the information out of you. “What do you think I smell like?”

“Well-“ you conceded, “you kinda smell like a Fox.”

Vere looked at you unmoving, mouth slightly open.

“It’s not like it’s super noticeable! Or like an inherently awful smell!” You assured him. “It’s just- once you notice it under all the fancy perfumes you usually wear it’s kinda hard to not pick up on it.”

Vere grabbed the pillow from beneath his head and smacked you with it. Hard.

“Hey!”

“How dare you!” He seethed. “I smell incredible all the time! Take back what you said.”

He finished his sentence by wacking you with the pillow again.

After receiving the second pillow smack, you gave Vere a quick glare, but your annoyance quickly gave way to amusement, and you were now struggling to hold in your giggles. A slight blush had graced veres normally stoic face, along with a look of affronted shock. He was embarrassed. Oh this was actually too funny.

Normally Vere would never let himself look embarrassed in front of anyone. But he had a shit day. He was exhausted, and his mask of arrogance had washed away with the lavender soap.

You began laughing. Quietly at first, but after those first few giggles an enraged, red-faced Vere had gotten up from his longing position and was now attacking you with your own pillow. The slight giggles on your part has turned into full on laughter, occasionally muffled by a repeated pillow to your face.

“Take!”

*Smack*

“It!”

*Smack*

“Back!”

*Smack smack*

You knew you would get noise complaints from the other tenants tomorrow, because you were absolutely overcome with laughter. Genuinely, you could feel your stomach start to cramp from how hard you were cackling at Vere.

You looked up at him, towering over you with a pillow at the ready. You could see the tips of his fangs. He was smiling too. He was so pretty when he smiled.

“Ok, ok” you conceded. “I take it-“

*Smack*

“Vere wait!” You squealed. “Wait, I said I take it back!”

“Not good enough anymore.” He responded. “You owe me a compliment, for telling me I smell like a wild animal.”

*Smack*

“So get with the complimenting asshole.” he smirked, readying his pillow for if your answer was not satisfactory.

“I’m not going to-“

*Smack*

“Alright, fine! Your hair looks great!”

*Smack*

“Your eyes are stunning!”

*Smack*

“Hey those were good! Stop attacking me!” Your smile was so wide you thought your face might split for a second.

“Try harder~” he cooed. “You’ll need to get creative in order to earn my forgiveness”

Right as he was about to bring the pillow down to your face once more, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards you.

He let out a yelp as you did so, but you knew he let it happen. The truth was if Vere didn’t want you to touch him, you’d never get close enough to even think about it. He knew the second you began reaching for his wrist, and he let it happen. He let himself fall against your chest, still heaving with laughter.

Chest to chest you looked at eachother, faces close enough that your noses nearly touched, both of you still smiling like idiots.

“Vere, You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Vere smile shifted at your words. He wasn’t cackling to himself anymore, instead he was looking directly at you. Studying you almost.

You didn’t mind. You knew he wasn’t one to trust. Neither were you. But at this moment you didn’t particularly care.

“I feel like it’s rare to see a real smile from you,” you continued. “It feels rewarding, knowing I can make you smile. I want to see it more, but-“

You couldn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what you wanted to say.

But I selfishly want you to look at just me like that. Not anyone else.

“Well. I like seeing it regardless.” You finished.

You saw the look on Veres' face. Most would call it indescribable, but you knew exactly what he was thinking. You had said something real just now. Real in a way he didn’t want to respond too or process right now, and he wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“Was that a good enough compliment?” You asked, an easy smile falling over your face. One that said you were willing to brush off what you had just said as nothing more than a game if he was.

The tension seemed to melt from his face as he playfully rolled his eyes and flopped down next to you.

It amazed you how expressive he could be when he was exhausted.

“Fine, I suppose I’ll forgive you. Just this once.” He mumbled.

Speaking of exhaustion, sleep was overtaking him quickly now that the fun had died down. He turned around and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, fur and hair now dry. Despite this, you could tell he was still cold. It seemed this weather didn’t agree with him.

You pushed yourself out of the bed and went back over to your closet. In the bottom was a thick scratchy fleece blanket. Not comfortable, but great for keeping the heat in. The perfect blanket to lay over someone already covered in other blankets.

You walked back over to the bed and draped it over Vere before waking back to your side and getting under the covers yourself.

A few moments of silence went by, and you were sure he had fallen asleep, until you heard him whisper, so quiet you might have missed it-

“I hate the snow.”

“Mhm.” You replied. “One of my earliest memories was about snow.”

Vere turned to face you once again, barely still awake.

It was true. It definitely wasn’t your oldest memory, but you remembered being a child and seeing snow for the first time. The person who had betrayed you was there too. They had told you, “every snowflake is unique, no two are alike.” You had spent the rest of the day catching snowflakes and trying to look at the patterns before they melted in your palms.

“Is it a good memory?” Vere asked.

“I’m…not sure.” You responded.

Something told you Vere already knew that would be the answer, he just wanted you to know the same. Sly Fox.

“Goodnight Vere”

“…”

No response.

That night your dreams were filled with snow. And when you woke you saw it was already late morning. You had been out cold.

You looked over to the other side of the bed to see it empty. Not shocking. What was shocking was the items on the bedside table next to you.

You unfolded the note. It was undoubtedly Veres' handwriting.

“Mhin told me that bathrobe I used was given to you by that fucking doctor. I’m burning it. Here’s a replacement.

-Vere”

Sure enough there was a blood red bathrobe neatly folded underneath the note. It was definitely higher quality than the one Kuras had given you, but less fluffy.

Besides that, there was also a black wicker basket placed on top of the robe as well. Replacements for the lavender set you had given him last night. But these products were far nicer than what you had used on him, and far more greater in quantity.

You sifted through the many hair oils, heavily scented bars of soap, lotions, and vials of perfume. The whole set was probably worth more money than you had ever had at one point in your entire life.

You opened a bottle and inhaled, and immediately recognized the scent. This is what Vere normally smelled like. He’d given you some of his products. It was shockingly sweet of him to do so, you didn’t think he cared that you were basically dirt poor.

Speaking of, it was time to get up. You had odd jobs to complete and were supposed to help Kuras later today.

Over the next few weeks, what had become what you would assume a one time thing had now become commonplace. Veres work would often end in the lowtown in the winter months it seemed, the Senobium only leaving hightown after all soulless had been cleared out, then heading to lowtown to kill maybe just one for their reputations sake before letting Vere off his leash.

Sometimes he’d just flop down in bed and immediately go to sleep, other times he’d demand you pamper him a little. Sometimes with a whole routine like you had done before, other times he just handed you a hairbrush and his tail and expected you to get to work.

“Didn’t you say to me you’d never be caught dead slumming it in the wet wick like the first day I was here?” You teased him.

“It’s literally a blizzard outside shut the FUCK UP.” He replied, stealing all of your blankets as punishment. (After that you kept an extra one under your side of the bed just in case)

Over time you had to make space in your closet for a few of his outfits as well. He’d made a joke about how if you didn’t want his clothes here he’d gladly walk around in the nude, and you had agreed to let him keep some things here just a little too quickly for his liking.

You didn’t think it meant anything. Yes, if it had been anyone else but Vere you could see how people might perceive this as romantic or something but not with him. Vere would never see you as more than a means to an end, and you would never open up to him. That’s just how the two of you were

Or that’s what you told yourself, wearing the robe he had given you while wearing the same perfume as he did, as you brushed his tail in comfortable silence while the snow fell outside.

Vere hated the snow. He always would. But as spring began to arrive and he no longer had any excuse to spend the night in your room, he began to miss those winter nights. Vere still hated the cold, but somehow that time with you had been anything but.

#touchstarved #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved game #touchstarved vere #vere touchstarved #vere x reader #vere x mc #touchstarvedgame #touchstarved fic #touchstarved fanfiction #touchstarved fanfic #vere my beloved #touchstarved x mc

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 months

Text

୨୧ ＭｏｄｅｒｎＬｏｖｅ ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: criminal!boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!waitress!fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: crime au/a mix of fluff & angst/smut

୨୧ Summary: Your friends always told you that Kim Mingyu was trouble but when he shows up unexpectedly at your job, covered in bruises with a bag of stolen money, you see how much trouble he really can be.

୨୧ Word Count: 3.5kish

୨୧ Warnings: mention of blood/injuries, a gun that's not used but is in there, strong language, unprotected sex, a lil bit of rough sex, fingering, creampie, & that's all I'm pretty sure

୨୧ A/N: I haven't written in a bit and I really wanted to start writing something crime related so here we are 🖤

There’s a lot you’ve come to tolerate waitressing at the diner. Customers with shitty attitudes who leave even shittier tips. Line cooks who get every other order wrong only to blame you because you must have mixed their tickets up somehow. The thin layer of grease that lingers on your clothes, leaving the scent of day old fries to haunt you even after you’ve washed your uniform a thousand times. All of that you can tolerate but this, your boss screaming at you like some psychopath, never fails to make your blood boil.

It’s always something with him. This time it’s that you didn’t refill the ketchup last night before close even though you weren’t the one who closed. The waitress who closed, a soft spoken girl who only started a week ago, called in this morning to quit just like every other waitress before her. The only girls insane enough to stick around are you and Moon, the waitress who trained you and the only person you’ve ever seen go toe to toe with your boss.

His screaming’s getting louder but you can’t even hear it. You zoned out ages ago. It’s like watching a TV on mute. If not for the growing redness of his face or the flinches of the passing food runners, you wouldn’t know a thing. Everyday you think about quitting. You lay in bed fantasizing about a life where you don’t have to put up with this to survive but in the end you always roll out of bed and show up.

What else are you supposed to do? You weren’t born into money and, luck never quite being on your side in life, it's not likely to just fall into your lap. So this is it. This. Is. It. Your stomach sinks as your boss steps closer, the veins in his hairy neck straining enough to pop a blood vessel. This can’t be it. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Moon shouts, pushing through the double doors behind you. The noise of the kitchen cuts back in at a dizzying speed. Dishes clanking, grease sizzling, water running, cooks calling out orders.

“You don’t talk to me that way!” your boss shouts back, dialing down his rage as he aims it at Moon. She pulls her dark hair back into a tight ponytail, cornering him against a rack of dirty dishes. “You don’t talk to her that way! The next time I hear you yelling at her I’ll report you to the health department for all of the little critters we have running around here or would you like me to tell the customers first?” He wants to say something to her but he can’t.

He knows she’s serious enough that she’d pop on a glove and go show off the bug traps to every customer packed into the questionably clean booths of the dining room. “Get back to work!” he snaps, “Both of you!” With that he storms off to his office mumbling every misogynistic thought in his pea brain. Moon turns to you, giving you a hug. You let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the comfort of her arms even though she smells like sandwiches. You do too.

“I fucking hate him.” “Fucking hate him for sure” she agrees, “But I know something that’ll cheer you up.” “What could possibly make me feel better?” Moon grabs you by the shoulders and directs you to the small round window on the door, “Your boyfriend’s here. Looks a little beat up though. Wonder what he got into this time.” Before she can finish her sentence and launch into another lecture about your choice in men, you’re racing to the booth in the corner where Mingyu sits patiently waiting for you.

He spots you in an instant, jumping up to give you a hug and soothe the panic that paints your face. A little beat up is an understatement. He’s covered in cuts and bruises. A busted lip here. A bruised eye there. A bandaged cut on the side of his neck. His knuckles skinned and raw. Your hands don’t know where to go or what to inspect. They’re just frantically skimming his frame, dreading the next surprise. “What happened?”

Mingyu tries to downplay it, apprecating that you’re worried for him but still not wanting you to worry too much. “Baby, I’m okay. Calm down.” He’s lying and you both know it. Everytime something like this happens he tries to shrug it off, pretending that he doesn’t get hurt worse and worse each time he gets back from one of his "jobs". “How can I calm down? Look at you.” “Look at me? What does that mean? Don’t you think I’m pretty?” he teases, placing his hands on your cheeks. Even with his fingers all beat up and achy, he has the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt.

He smiles and all you can do is smile back. Of course you think he’s pretty, the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you’re a sucker for him in the worst way. So much that you forget for a few fleeting seconds that there’s the lightest spot of blood seeping through the crisp white bandage on his neck. “Cute but I still need you to tell me what’s going on” you persist, glancing back to catch Moon watching over you as she works her tables.

Mingyu turns you back to look at him, the wildness in his deep brown eyes thrilling and frightening you all at once.

“You trust me don’t you?”

“Ming—”

“Do you trust me?”

“I mean, duh, of course I trust you but—”

“Then quit” he says as if it’s nothing. As if this job isn’t the only thing paying for the hole in the wall apartment you rent up the street. “I can’t just quit. I need this job.” Mingyu presses his forehead to yours, bringing his arms around your waist to hold you closer. “Not anymore. I can take care of you now. I just really need you to trust me and come with me. We don’t have a lot of time.”

It’s impossible to make sense of anything he’s saying when he’s being this vague. You have a million questions and no time to ask them. “Hey! Play with your boyfriend on your own time!” your boss shouts from across the counter, “Get back to these tables before I fire your ass!” Mingyu’s jaw clenches, his temper ready to erupt on your boss for daring to speak to you that way. “I got this” you whisper, rubbing his shoulders to cool him down. He’s already had enough action for one day. The last thing he needs is another scuffle.

Your boss goes on rambling but this time you don’t drown him out. You hear every word. Every disgusting, vile thing he can spew in your direction. The thought of dealing with this every single day is torture. Mingyu's way out, whatever it is, has to be better than this. Your friends might not agree, Moon would surely have you thrown in an asylum, but you have to trust Mingyu or risk this being the rest of your life.

Grabbing a pitcher of ice water from one of the tables, you calmly approach the counter and throw it in your boss’ face. “Oh my god” Moon gasps, covering her mouth to hide her amusement. “Do it yourself. I quit. Mingyu, let’s go.” You march out of the diner, ripping your apron and name tag off as your sneakers hit the dirt of the parking lot. Your palms are sweaty, your heart’s racing, and you have no idea what’s gotten into you but it feels good. “That was sick” Mingyu applauds, kissing your fluffy cheeks, “I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a badass.” “Shut up” you giggle as he guides you to his car, a vintage deathtrap that his father gifted to him.

Mingyu seats you on the passenger's side, picking up a heavy black duffle bag from the floor and plopping it onto your lap. You stare down at it, too afraid to even touch it. With Mingyu’s line of work anything could be in this bag. Not a body, of course, it’s much too small for that. But guns? Drugs? “Just open it” he says, starting the car. You’ve been so deep in your own thoughts, running through the possibilities of what’s in the bag, of what happened to his face, that you hadn’t even noticed him get into the car.

Noticing your hesitance, he reaches over and unzips the bag. “It won’t bite, honey” he promises, turning out of the parking lot and leaving you to take in the bundles of crinkled money packed into the bag. You carefully pick one out, fanning through it like a deck of cards. There’s more money here than you’ve ever seen. More than most people will ever see.

“Whose money is this?”

Mingyu shrugs, flicking on the radio, “Mmm, it’s ours.”

“You asked me to trust you now I need you to trust me. Just tell me what’s going on.”

Mingyu made a promise to himself when you first started dating that he’d keep the other side of him hidden. He loves the way that you see him. You see him as his most ideal self. As the man he wishes he could be all of the time and not who he has to become when you aren’t together. But you were bound to find out one day and if today has to be that day then so be it. “You know how I do drop offs for the mob?” You nod, your fingers still petting the edges of the money like one would a new puppy or a luxurious fur coat.

“I do pickups too. Retrivals I guess. If people owe money and they don’t pay up it’s my job to go get it even if it means I have to hurt them...” He trails off, fearful of your reaction, but you only listen attentively, free of judgment. “Earlier I had one of those pickups” he continues, “Things got kind of crazy. A lot of people got hurt.” He flexes his hand, wincing at the pain. “Including me but, you know, at least I’m alive. The other guy...anyway. I was supposed to take the money back but I didn’t. I kept it for us.”

You insantly regret ever pressing him for this information. Maybe ignorance truly is bliss and you've just given it up. “So you killed someone?” “I kinda had to.” “Right. You kinda had to kill someone and stole a bunch of mob money now we’re—we’re on the run aren’t we?” Mingyu nods, chewing on the inside of his lip, “We are.” “Oh, fun. I’m dead. We’re dead. They’re gonna chop our heads off.” “No one’s chopping your head off! They don’t even do that anymore. It’s more of a burning the whole body thing. Buried alive usually.”

“Not helping!”

“I’m sorry!”

Mingyu tosses the bag into the backseat, freeing your lap up for his hand to massage your thigh. Your legs are shaky, every part of you is, and no amount of massaging can stop it. “This is a lot. It’s so fucking much. I can’t even…” Leaning your head back against the headrest, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. “I never meant to put you in danger” he says softly, “We spend so many nights talking about the life we want. A better life. You deserve it and I just want to give you that so when I saw the opportunity I took it. If it means anything, I’d die before I let anyone hurt you. I’ll protect you with my life.”

You open your eyes to catch him staring at you, his attention only half on the road where it should be. He means every word he says, no matter how fucked up his methods are. A part of you can’t stand him for what he’s done and you can't stand yourself for how small that part of you is. In a matter of minutes he managed to destroy the life you knew. A life you’ve been longing to destroy yourself for far too long but never had the courage to. You can’t hate him for that. In fact, in some strange, twisted way you've never loved him more.

You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. The two of you had plans to go out for dinner after you hopped out of the shower but hours of driving in no particular direction had exhausted you. The moment you sat down on the bed of the floral wallpapered motel room you were out like a light. Mingyu can’t bring himself to wake you up. You deserve the rest, he figures, after all he sprung onto you.

He has no real idea where you are. Your cellphones were tossed off a bridge two towns ago and every road sign in whatever nowhere town you stopped in is too faded too read. There’s no way anyone will find you here when you can’t even find yourselves. Even still, Mingyu finds himself pacing the floor in the darkness of the motel room, a handgun held tightly in his right hand. Paranoia weighing heavy on him, he wishes that he could fall asleep but every time he relaxes in the slightest another set of headlights beam through the curtains and he’s on his feet again.

What if someone followed you? What if they spotted his car? He truly would protect you with his life. But what if he failed? “Idiot” he huffs, hitting himself on the side of the head. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not hitting my boyfriend. Thank you very much” you yawn, stretching out, your eyes only cracked enough to make out his fuzzy silhouette. You snuggle up to his side of the bed, the blanket quite cozy against your bare skin for something that's for sure been here since the 90’s. You try not to think about it, your focus quickly shifting to the gun in Mingyu’s hand.

“When’d you get a...” you start but abandon your question. When’d he get a gun? That’s silly to ask. Of course he has a gun, probably a few. Why wouldn’t he? “Put that thing away and come to bed.” “You worry too much. I’m good. You rest.” Outstretching your arms, you pout and kick your feet knowing that he's a softie for your tantrums. “Five minutes. That’s it. Please” you whine and he’s already dragging himself over to the bed, reluctantly tucking his gun into the bedside table.

By now the haze of sleep has fallen away, offering you a clear view of the gorgeous man hovering above you. “Stop looking at me like that” he blushes, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. It sends sparks through your system, stealing your breath away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mingyu leans down to kiss you, his hand slipping beneath the blanket to ride the curves of your body. “You don’t?” he asks, nibbling at your bottom lip. He presses a thumb into the tender flesh of your thigh, feeling your body tremble the way you did in the car.

Only now it’s not because you’re scared. Fear is the furthest thing from your mind. It’s because you’re craving some relief, craving him, badly enough that the faintest brush of his thumb over your clit has you snatching him on top of you. Your tongue’s down his throat, legs thrown around his waist, hips raised to feel the bulge fighting to free itself from the confines of his jeans. Nothing gets Mingyu hotter than when you’re like this, clawing his clothes off as his fingers delight in the velvet warmth between the lips of your pussy. “Ming—” you gasp at how effortlessly his fingers glide into you. Your walls flutter in excitement as if to welcome him home and he couldn’t be happier to be back.

“You’re dripping, baby” he coos, pulling out just enough to glimpse your juices coating his fingers. You reach between you, finally feeling the heat of his cock in your palm, and stroke his length, collecting pearls of his arousal each time you run over the tip. “So are you” you tease, grinning at the way his hips stutter. With one arm holding himself up and the other busy between your legs, his muscles flex in a certain way that makes your mouth water. In your eyes his body’s a work of art and the feeling couldn’t be more mutual.

Your body’s so soft, so sensual, that he’s dying to be inside of you just to see the way your body jiggles each time he thrusts into you. Your muscles tighten, the ecstasy coursing through your veins making you feel lightheaded. “Make love to me” you say in the sweetest voice, not begging nor demanding, simply confessing how much you need him. Mingyu twitches in your hand, his heart skipping more than a few beats. Without a word, his hands are gripping your plush hips as he guides himself to your entrance.

He takes his time, rubbing the tip in the wetness escaping your core, bumping it against your clit to make you quiver. You rub his biceps, nails digging into his arms, giving him such a rush that he can’t tease you any longer. He delves into your core, feeding his length into you gradually until every inch of him fills you. “So beautiful” he whispers, kissing between your breasts as he strokes in and out of you. His tongue traces the contours of your breast, flicking at your nipple before his lips wrap around it. Nibbling, suckling, all while watching the faces you make when he hits that sensitive spot.

He’s throbbing inside of you, so tight against your walls that you swear you can feel the blood rushing through those pretty veins that run up his cock. It’s sweet of him starting out slow but you want more. You press down onto him, using the minimal space between your bodies to ride him, picking up the pace. Mingyu gets the hint, rising to his knees as he presses yours to your chest. “You said make love to you” he says, his hands tucked behind your knees, “If you wanted me to fuck you, you should’ve just said so.”

He kisses you ravenously, like he wants to consume you entirely, wasting no time pulling back to bounce you on his cock, his hips moving faster with each thrust. Mingyu palms the softest part of your stomach, caressing it as his other hand reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb runs across your bottom lip, feeling your breath as you cry out his name. “Mingyu—ah—yes—fuck. Harder!” you scream and this time you are begging.

Never being a man to deny you what you want, he obeys. Harder, faster, impossibly deeper, until you feel him in every part of you. Holding onto his wrists, you surrender, letting yourself get lost in him. So lost that you’re caught off guard by the sudden explosion of the pressure that's been building inside of you. Your lids barely fall shut before they’re shooting back open, your body quivering as your orgasm barrels down on you. Mingyu’s hypnotized by the sight of you, addicted to the way you gush and clench around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. So pretty when you cum for me, aren’t you? So so pretty. Mmm—.” He wants to hold back, to at least try, but it’s no use. How can he hold back anything with you? It only takes one more pulse of your walls for him to come undone, barely able to maintain his thrusts as he spills into you. You’d feel this forever if you could. The warmth and the fullness. You’re so greedy for it, taking every drop until he’s collapsed beside you trying to come back down to earth.

Using the last bit of energy in your body, you lay your head on his chest, tossing the blanket over the two of you. “Tomorrow you’ll teach me how to shoot?” Mingyu wraps an arm around you, gently petting your hair. “You? With a gun? No way.” You nod, intimidated but confident in your decision, “We’re in this together now aren’t we? It’s not just about you protecting me. I wanna protect you too. So teach me.”

His instinct is to tell you no, that he can protect both of you on his own, but he knows it’s not fair. He’s the one who drug you into this, the least he can do is show you how to defend yourself.

“I’ll teach you. Tomorrow,” he relents, “But tonight it’s back to sleep, okay?”

"Only if you promise to stay here with me.”

“Always.”

Silence falls across the room and, as you drift back off to sleep, you know there’s so much more to that “always”. “Always” doesn’t just mean tonight or tomorrow. It’s more than next week or next year. It stretches far beyond whatever hell might lie before you. It means forever. It means that Mingyu would go to the ends of the earth for you. And there’s no way you won’t be by his side when he does.

#seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen au #seventeen angst #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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spacecowboyhotch · 4 months

Text

In Plain Sight, Ch 1: Docile Pyre

summary: nathan tries his best to wade through the sea of feelings you’ve brought up in him. he’s kinda shitty to you while doing it.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, nathan is a pining asshole, reader is so competent and cool

wc: 2,200

AN: BE NICE TO ME PLEASE GOD. i don’t know where this came from. on christmas eve morning, nathan bateman himself walked into my apartment and made me write this. who am i to argue with a man who looks like oscar issac?

in plain sight masterlist | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan learned quickly that his usual backhanded compliments and intelligent snarkiness don’t work for you. You don’t care enough to let him get under your skin, don’t care enough to be baited into an argument. It gets under his skin.

You make him sick. Sick in a way he’d never felt before. He thought he was the epitome of unbothered and unchanged until he met you. He feels like a fucking teenage boy, wiping his sweaty palms and reminding himself that he’s in control. He’s the boss. So why does his heart flutter when you look him in the eyes so intently as he gives you task after task to do?

You never complain. You never say much at all. He wishes that you would say something. That you would lash out or fight back— give him something. He wants to see you.

But you’re prim and perfect. All “yes sir” and “no sir”. Mr. Bateman this and Mr. Bateman that. No one calls him Mr. Bateman. It’s fucking silly, the way it affects him when you do. You handle each task he gives you with ease— even when he has you calling the most difficult of his colleagues. In meetings, they mention how charming you are, sweet and charismatic. Nathan doesn’t even get that. For someone who’s all about AI, blank stares, and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy. He knows that you’re a person with emotions, desires, and opinions. So he picks and picks and picks, hoping that one day you’ll break.

Why won’t you show him? Why does he care so much? Why is he completely enamored with you anyway?

Being around you starts to confuse him. Nathan hates that feeling. He likes to be the smartest in the room— he needs it or he starts to feel small. Like he’s that little boy he was all those years ago, staring up into the angry eyes of his parents as they spew insults at him. But, he can’t seem to find a balance when he’s around you, he hates the feelings you invoke but can’t seem to work himself out of the tangled mess in his heart. Before you, he was sure that he didn’t have one anymore.

“Can you work overtime tonight? I need all of this sorted and filed,” He gestures to stack upon stack of paperwork in the corner of his lab.

“I just need to make a call, sir.”

Nathan knows that you have a life outside of him and this job— any normal person would. But, he’s not normal, is he? It reminds him that despite these harbored feelings, he’s not compatible with you. You deserve someone normal. Maybe that’s who you need to call, maybe you already have someone. Jealousy courses through his veins.

He raises a brow at you, his voice cool, “A call? You have something more important to do than your job?”

You give him no information. Just a polite smile as you head towards the door, “I’ll just be a moment, sir.”

Nathan pretends to tinker around with his synthetic brains and limbs and skin until you’re finished filing. He thought it’d take longer, but you finish in a couple of hours. He’s always impressed with you and your performance but it goes sour the moment you reach for your bag.

“If that’s all Mr. Bateman, I’ll see you at 9 a.m.”

“Wait,” He says, trying to prolong your time together, trying to see if you’ll give him any sort of reaction if he gives you more work. But no. You turn to him with ease, a polite and expectant look on your face. He gives up. “I’ll send you a grocery list. You can be here at 10 a.m.”

“10 a.m.,” You repeat with a soft nod.

Then Nathan’s all alone again. He heads into his bedroom, opening one of the closets. He needs to get lost for a while. He needs you off his mind.

—

Nathan tries. He really tries not to watch you so closely. He tries to distance himself from you. He stops giving you the tasks he used to give you just to hopefully piss you off. His attempts are useless though. The only thing that could keep him from watching you is firing you. He doesn’t have control, he feels powerless in the face of your docile stare.

He starts to notice things. That your hair is a little out of place. That your clothes aren’t as crisp and clean as usual. He sees the bags under your eyes. He sees you sleeping during your lunch break instead of eating. Your work doesn’t suffer and neither does your attitude but the subtle light in your eyes gets dimmer and dimmer as time wanes on.

Nathan had wanted to see you, sure, but he didn’t want to see you like this. Something’s wrong. He’s not sure has the courage to ask you about it. He feels guilty when he has to ask you to work late on a Thursday afternoon. It feels like it’s festering inside him and he almost forgoes asking. It gets what he’s wanted for months and months on end. You finally crack.

“Hey, I need you to work late tonight,” He murmurs, more gently than he’s spoken to anyone…ever. Fuck, you make him soft. It’s disgusting. It’s unfair. It’s blasphemy.

You continue to type when you respond, “I can’t, sir.”

Nathan freezes, unsure if he’s just heard you correctly. “Excuse me?”

You inhale a soft breath, your gaze airing on slightly apologetic, “I said that I can’t. I can’t work late tonight, Mr. Bateman, I’m sorry.”

“And why not?”

“I’m not sure that that’s any of your business. Sir,” You add respectfully.

“Any of my business?” He repeats, incredulous.

“Yes, sir.”

He stares at you for a handful of seconds, weighing his options. The tasks he wants to give you could wait until more— he’s simply impatient. But, he’s got buy-in now with your disagreement and secrecy. He could push…and he does. “I didn’t ask, I ordered. I need you here for a few more hours.”

It works. For the first time since you started working for him a little under a year ago, you finally show him something. You’re angry, he can tell by the way your brows knit together and your mouth twists. It thrills him.

You stew for a few beats, no doubt deciding if you should voice your rebuttal or go on as usual. Nathan watches you eagerly, hoping of course for the latter. It doesn’t come. Instead—

You close your eyes, growing statuesque. Nathan can only tell you’re still breathing because of how close he is, and how intensely he’s watching you. You open your eyes after a moment and say easily, “Then I need to make a call. It’ll just be a moment, sir.

You work diligently that night, finishing up in just half the time he suggested. He’s almost tempted to give you more, but he knows that would just make things worse. Despite your cool collected manner, the air in the room feels heavier, the energy shifted. He knows he’s fucked up. And if he wasn’t sure, he is when you get up to leave without your usual goodbye or so much of a glance at him.

It’s only after you’ve gone that Nathan takes a good look at his calendar. It’s New Year's Eve. He’d made you stay late on New Year's Eve. That guilt from before rears its ugly head, more gut-wrenching than before. He makes his way to the kitchen to drink it away. It’s replaced with alcohol, hot jealousy, and a hint of sadness. You’d had plans for New Year's Eve. You weren’t going to be lonely like him, if you still made it to those.

Fuck and who were they with? Some guy? Some woman? Did it matter? Not really. The only thing that mattered is that you opened up to them. You show them who you are. Nathan sits hunched over on the couch, bottle in hand staring into the fire.

No, I’m not sorry, he thinks drunkenly to himself. If keeping you late kept you with him and away from whoever was in your life then he wasn’t sorry. He was selfish and unkind, but not sorry. Assholes like him don’t get to be sorry. He’d be a monster that would keep you as long as he could in any way that he could.

—

When you come in on the second, you look exhausted despite the day off. It almost sets him off, but he’d spent most of yesterday thinking about you. The drinking had taken away his guilt, his jealousy, or that unworthy feeling he’s been running from all his life. You…well you make him want to face. Dig to the root of it and cast it out of himself, but he knows he’s not strong enough. The most he can do right is an apology.

Nathan comes to sit on the edge of your desk, blocking the screen so you have to look up at him. “Hey.”

You look up at him with those soft, tired eyes. “Yes?”

He shifts, scratching the bare patch atop his head awkwardly, “I uh— the other night, it was shitty of me to make you work late on New Year’s Eve.”

“I made it work, sir.”

Fuck him, you’re making this hard. His silly little anger about your disposition isn’t justified, he realized that when he sobered up yesterday but he feels ready to explode with it. Spending New Year’s Day alone had never bothered him until yesterday. He had never himself alone, given his bots, until you. You’re screwing with his head, making it all fucky.

“Mr. Bateman?”

A small shiver runs down his spine. He nods, clapping his hands together before hopping off your desk. He needs space and air. “It won’t happen again. On any holiday.”

You fix him with a polite smile, nodding, “Sure.”

Nathan avoids you as much as he can for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s his only option now. He knows that there’s no point in fighting this. Once he feels a certain way it might as well be set in stone. It’s hard to accept that. Even if it wasn’t, he doesn’t want to.

He runs into you on his way out, and before he can think better of it, he’s talking, “Hey, wait up one second.”

“I can stay late, it’s not a problem,” You say mechanically.

“No, I’m not— fuck I’m not asking you to stay late again. I’m an asshole but Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Did I make a mistake then, sir?”

He can’t help himself— he laughs. It dissolves into a maniacal giggle, his hands rubbing at his eyes. “Fuck’s sake. No, sweetheart, you didn’t make a mistake. What I meant to say earlier was I shouldn’t have made you work late on New Year’s Eve. I shouldn’t make you work so late any day, I don’t know your life, I don’t know you.”

“Alright.”

“And what I mean by that is— you know that this is me saying sorry? Right?”

“Yes, Mr. Bateman, I understand what you’re saying completely.”

“Great. Well?”

You tilt your head at him— it’s almost unsettling. “Well?”

“Usually someone apologizes, says it won’t happen again, and then the other thanks them. Accepts the apology. All that jazz. That’s how it works in the movies at least if I’m not mistaken,” He grins, leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sir, I know how apologies work.”

He nods his head at you expectantly, “Then it’s your turn.”

You do that thing again from the other night, where you go so still you could be made from stone. He watches you with curious eyes, and when your gaze meets his, he can see it— the fire. He’s cracked you again. This time he hopes for a better result.

Shoulders squared, clutching your bag tightly over your shoulder you say, “With all due respect and complete honesty, Mr. Bateman, I don’t accept. I don’t care to. While I appreciate your attempt, none of what you said was a true apology. That almost means that well, there was nothing for me to accept. I’ll see you at 7 a.m., sir.”

Nathan watches you leave, his mouth slightly agape. You had just, so politely and succinctly told him off. He feels like his world has been turned upside down like he’s been bitten by a snake he was told wasn’t poisonous. And he wants to be bitten again. Again and again, he wants to stoke that fire in you until it’s an uncontrollable rage. A forest fire with no end in sight. He wants to be engulfed in it, willing and ready to suffer the burns of handling you. Where he’d been prepared to give up on you after apologizing— okay with sacrificing you to someone who might actually have a chance at deserving you— he refuses to now.

This feels like a challenge. You want him to be better? He’ll do it. He’d do anything for you. And he will.

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @faretheeoscar, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @kotaropuppy

#im impatient and posting this todayyyyy #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

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cosmerelists · 3 months

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If Cosmere Characters Had Real-World Jobs (But Not The Obvious Ones)

In this list, I wanted to try to give Cosmere characters jobs in our world while avoiding the jobs that would be the most obvious picks--like, for example, the real world equivalent of whatever their canon job is.

1. Kaladin: Professional Football Player

It's a dangerous job that Kaladin's dad would scoff at, but the other kids in town think it's really cool and also the recruiters are coming through town and, I mean, he's really good at football.

2. Lirin: Public Defender

If we avoid the obvious job (doctor), then Lirin still needs a job where he is doing good, but it's pretty thankless and the general public are suspicious and think he might actually be evil somehow. So I figure: public defender. He's highly educated, helping people who need it, and just getting nothing but grief as a result. Worst of all, his smart son wants to be a FOOTBALL player!

3. Marsh: Masseuse

I feel like people who are good at hemalurgy know about the body and its pressure points and things like that. And frankly, "acupuncturist" felt too on the nose.

4. Shallan: Park Ranger

Shallan HATES to be confined, so no way she's going into an office job. Plus, she likes nature and animals, but I'm trying to avoid the more obvious jobs (like botanist or ecologist). It's just too bad that Shallan is SO bad at staring a campfire, though.

5. Navani: Wedding Planner

Navani is VERY good at managing people and events, as seen when she had to manage everything while Gavilar was off plotting. She's also very organized and literally invented wristwatches. So I think she's be very good at this job.

6. Elend: Grad Student

This one may be too obvious, but I figure something like "politician" or "philosopher" are more obvious. But to me, Elend has major grad student energy.

7. Nale: Insurance Adjuster

Nale is a cop, of course, through and through. But if he wasn't a cop, then he'd need some other job where he uses the rules to screw people over. So I see him as, like, an evil insurance guy who's denying people medical coverage because the company wants him to.

8. Blackthorn-Era Dalinar: Debt Collector

If flashback Dalinar couldn't make a living mowing people down in battle and had to find a less obvious job, then I could see him being the guy to hunt down people and demand money they don't have. He doesn't really care about the money. He just likes the hunt.

9. Adolin: eSports Player

It's a job where you can head-to-head battle people and your dad is vaguely puzzled and thinks you should be doing something more important with your life.

10. Lightsong: Customer Service Agent

In canon, Lightsong's job is to face down a huge line of people and tell them "no" in response to them asking for something they want. So, I mean, I feel like that's equivalent to one of those shitty customer service jobs where you're not really allowed to help people (until, of course, Lightsong goes rogue and does start helping people, but that's another story...)

11. Stormfather: Bus Driver

He has his route, and he's not deviating from it. And if you miss the bus, he's not stopping. He's not going back. You can try to run, but you will not catch up to him.

12. Tress: Mechanic

As a Sprouter, Tress had to figure out how each of the spores worked and how to use them. I just feel like she'd be good at diagnosing issues in machinery and then fixing them.

13. Steris: Programmer

She's precise, she's smart, she likes rules. I think coding would suit her.

14. Yumi: Waitress

She could stack the plates SO high.

15. Marasi: Investigative Reporter

Which, honestly, is what I wish she had been rather than being a cop like in canon. I think it would suit her! She'd get to research, investigate, find the truth...

16. Kelsier: Motivational Speaker

He tells you about the power of smiling no matter what, so that you are never defeated. He tells you to carry something small, some memento or photo, to help you find your motivation. You tells you that no goal is out of reach--you just have to find the right people and the right steps to move forward. And he tells you that the most important thing is to survive.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Kaladin #Lirin #Shallan #Adolin #Kelsier #Marasi #Yumi #Tress #Stormfather #Lightsong #Dalinar #Elend #Nale #Marsh #Steris #Navani

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wreckedandpolemic · 4 months

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helloo can you write something on actress readerxmatty? 👉👈

sorry u sent this 103747294 million years ago i Hope ur still around to see this

(minors dni) but i’ve had a problematic age gap celebrity reader idea bouncing around my mind palace for soo long like i'm picturing you're in your early twenties and on top of the world <3 just starred in your breakout role, it girl of the summer type stuff. and you're close friends with another younger artist matty's been working with, so you hear all these stories about him and 'i think you'd really like him, babe, honestly!' with a look. and, look, you're not not interested, but you just got out of a shitty relationship, and your career is really taking off, and– good god, he's hot.

he's visibly older than you, greying a little, all sharp lines and tattoos and vintage leather, a sly smile pulling at his lip when he catches you staring. he raises his glass to you, tilting his head in invitation. as if by some magnetic pull, your feet carry you into the seat beside him.

"hi," you say, waving down the bartender and ordering yourself a cocktail. "i'm a friend of thea's," you tell him, before he thinks you're some kind of stalker.

his mouth drops in an 'o' of recognition. "oh, shit," matty chuckles. "you're the girl from the... the film!" his face splits in a stupidly gorgeous grin, and you're sold, like you're a teenager with a crush all over again.

you raise an eyebrow, fighting to maintain your composure. "you saw it?"

"yeah," he says, eyes flickering down to your lips and sending a thrill skittering up your spine. "you were really good." from the way he's undressing you with his eyes, he's thinking about the shot of your tits. "i'm matty, by the way," he adds.

"i know," you grin. matty watches you curiously and you lean closer, turning your best bedroom eyes on him. he takes the bait, pink tongue flickering out to wet his lips unconsciously.

you expect him to be gone the next morning, expect the lingering memory of his hands on your skin to fade to a story you'll dramatise to your friends. and when his side of the bed is cold, you resolve to move on with your day, not to dither on your conversation, on his laugh, on his head between your thighs. then, he sticks his head around your door, hair mussed and dressed in nothing but boxers. you break into a smile, warmth flooding your chest. god, you really are like a teenager with a crush.

"morning, love," he grins, his voice low and thick with sleep. "where d'you keep your coffee?"

you blink in disbelief, the mundane, domestic question an impossibility rattling through your cynical mind. "it's, uh..." you sit up, raking a hand through your tangled hair. "i'll show you."

you spend the summer falling wildly, dramatically in love, like something out of one of your early, low-budget indie films. but, leaves change, summers end, real life comes creeping back in. you're shooting on location through september, thousands of miles away on a packed schedule, practically tearing your hair out trying to find time for him between filming and interviews and reshoots and whatever the fuck else is grappling for your attention.

the sky is overcast when you land. fitting. your co-star is a tall, blond, all-american type. the kind of man your fans, your agent, and even your parents are falling over themselves to see you date. so, naturally, you hate him. he's brash, abrasive in a way that's supposed to be charming but just comes off self-aggrandising. you grit your teeth and smile through it – you love your job, and you're having fun with the movie, but every second you spend playing at falling in love in soft, sunny los angeles makes you ache for sharp, rainy england and the man waiting there for you.

it's october by the time you get a few days to yourself, driven to distraction by tinny phone calls and grainy facetimes and nothing but your hand between your legs. you've been shooting the same kiss scene from a dozen angles for hours, desperately aggravated by your co-star's grin every time you pull apart, like he's just waiting for you to fall for him, and by knowing that matty is somewhere over the atlantic right now, inching closer by the second.

you're unfocused, and you can tell you're throwing the shoot, wasting daylight. ultimately, you're only prolonging your suffering (bit dramatic, but, hey, that's what you're paid for), but you've never been more grateful to have a director glare directly at you while wrapping. you nod dutifully as he gives his notes, the words going in one ear and straight back out the other, chased out by the singular thought circling your brain: in a few hours, none of this is going to matter because you'll have matty back.

you book it to the hotel, practically diving into the shower to to scrub yourself clean of your co-star's spidery hands. matty texts you that he's landed, and your body hums with anticipation as you get dressed. well, 'dressed' might be a stretch. a scrap of white lace clings to your waist, the matching babydoll dress doing nothing to protect your dignity. smirking to yourself, you snap a photo of your garter belt and the stockings clipped on, and send it to him. hurry please xx, you add. his reply is immediate. fuck. you're killing me.

the minutes tick by agonisingly slowly, every second weighing on you like a physical pain. finally, after what feels like hours, there's a soft tap at your door. you fluff your hair in the mirror, wiping at a smudge in your lipgloss with a thumb. taking your time while knowing matty's only feet away from you is excruciating, but there's still something delicious about making him sweat. he knows it too, playing your game and waiting instead of using his own key.

the moment you open the door, his mouth is on yours, hungry, open-mouthed kisses stealing the breath from your lungs. you luxuriate in the taste of him, familiar and intoxicating. "thank god," you mutter against his lips as he pulls away. "i was starting to forget what being kissed is supposed to feel like." something dark glitters in his eyes, spurring you on. "spent all day with that prick trying to chew my face off."

"well," he begins, jealousy scraping in his tone. "i guess we'll have to find a way to help you forget, then."

"mmm, is that so?" you whisper, taking a calculated step back. "how are you gonna do that, healy?"

the words die in his throat at the sight of you, his gaze burning as it roams over every inch of your skin, arousal pooling in your core and dripping between your legs. "you look..." he fumbles for words as you grin.

"i know."

#trying out this format idk how i feel #theres a million ideas for how to continue this bouncing around my brain rn im just putting some feelers out for how u guys like it #suggestions welcome Of course #literally wrote this on a whim in my drafts in 2 sittings hfkdsjsk #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #matty healy #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #writing #actress!au #anonymous #request #requests #blurb

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bitchlessdino · 2 months

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Would you like a receipt? Pt. 2

Part 2 of my Valentines collaboration with @svthub hosted by my wifey @wongyuseokie thank you so much for creating this collab, we love you so much. here is part two in case you missed it pt. 1 Pairing: Childhood bf!junhui x working class afab!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life, smut Word count: 4.3k tags: mentions of alcohol, adult activities under the influence, second chances, exes to ???, childhood friend/boyfriend!junhui, teasing, unprotected sex, soft turn needy jun, biting Summary: Coming across a grade school ex-boyfriend while you worked a shitty seasonal job around Valentines was not in your 2024 bingo card. author note: finally to my dear valentine @skyechild. it feels like so long since i wrote a fully fledge smut and i'll be producing more. I hoped you've enjoyed it mio, happy valentines day again 💘

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

Your relationship with Junhui ended when he abandoned you.

Of course, you remember him. He is the first guy you’ve ever dated and all of a sudden in the height of your relationship he mysteriously moves away without a trace. You were left in the dust, wondering what it was for him to leave you alone without warning, much less a goodbye. Back then, neither of you had the privilege of owning a cell phone nor any other way to contact each, even so, how would you call god knows who where?

Despite the abrupt and unexplained departure, hope flickers within your tiny eleven-year-old heart; an inkling whispers that you might cross paths again. However, the reality your adult self faces is starkly different from the innocent optimism of your youth. Those hopes of reuniting in fruitful harmony died along with your dreams of living out dreams beyond reality. You know better than that now. However, meeting him again, unexpectedly, reopens old wounds for the same reasons that severed your connection years ago, yet at the same time also opens up new possibilities you have yet to discover about yourself.

“I know you have every right to hate me.”

“What’s there to hate you for? Something came up. That’s fine.”

You busy yourself with your work a day after Valentine's during the lunch hour, which you woefully choose to take. You say woefully once the doors are open and the singular customer you come across is the very man that left you hanging all of last night. His eyes round with guilt, he strides right towards you, and nothing but apologies spill from his lips.

You are usually a person to hold a grudge–with your background of servitude and duty, you have no luxury to–but Jun seems to bring out that side of you. That childish side that you’ve repressed for so long. The kind that hoped their parents would take them to the carnival and pay for overpriced popcorn and cotton candy.

"I understand you might harbor some…resentment towards me, and you have every right to feel that way."

You scoff under your breath. "What's there to hate me for? Things came up, and that's perfectly acceptable."

"It's not fine." Jun trails behind you as you briskly navigate the aisles, replenishing the missing items, all while avoiding his eyes. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the shelves, and his shadow shades over any shelf you stand in front of–constantly in your line of vision. "I should have given you an earlier heads-up. You waited for me."

You meticulously scan the shelves, your fingers deftly selecting items with practiced efficiency, nonchalantly proceeding with work. "And I went back home; it's okay. Have a good day, sir. Remember, only paying customers are allowed in the store."

Immediately, Jun hastily seizes several boxes of candy, the crinkling of plastic punctuating the sudden flurry of movement. His fingers fumble slightly as he attempts to maintain composure, but the visible tension in his posture betrays his true emotions. He carries the candy with him as he trails behind you, a silent acknowledgment of his disrupted intentions. "I'll be buying these, don't worry."

You expel a loud sigh, the weariness evident in your demeanor, before retreating to the counter. There, you rest your arms against it in annoyance, the cool surface providing a brief respite. "Junhui, you're not buying these."

“Yes, I am.”

A challenging exchange unfolds between you, and Jun leans in, determination flickering in his eyes. You cross your arms. "What will get you to leave?"

“I’ll leave…if you tell me you never ever want to see my face again. That you wish me the worst and you truly want me out of your life.”

You fixate your gaze on him, a long moment passing as you process the weight of his terms and conditions.

“I never ever want to see your face again. I wish you the worst, and I truly want you out of my life.”

A moment of silence hangs heavily, and Jun lets linger longer than it should. “...I’ll be honest, I didn't think you’d actually do it.”

You offer a nonchalant shrug, your face maintaining a stoic expression. "Well."

His smile fades, and he retrieves his wallet with a subtle sense of resignation. A handful of bills gracefully leave their sleeves, and he places them gently on the counter before you. "Then, I'll leave. The candy is for you.”

As he takes tentative steps toward the exit, the atmosphere thickens with unrelieved tension. He can't resist the urge to steal glances back at you every few seconds, revealing the inner turmoil that accompanies his departure. The weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions hangs between you like a translucent veil, urging you to let him go, yet a lingering hesitation looms in the air.

“I can’t eat all this candy,” you mutter from behind the counter, your gaze meeting his with a blend of understanding and resolve. The subdued lighting from the overhead fluorescent lights casts a muted glow on the scene, intensifying the bittersweet nature of the moment. It's as if the very atmosphere is a canvas, painting the emotional undertones of a strained encounter.

He attempts to suppress a grin, the corners of his lips betraying a flicker of amusement. "Keep them, give them away. Whatever you want." You lightly flick at the edge of one of the candy boxes. The faint rustling of plastic emanates from the candy boxes, their contents cascading over each other in an unstable tower reaching the height of your chin, yet somehow its stands tall.

"You should take some, considering you bought it anyway."

He glances back at the candy, hesitating for a moment before responding. "Then I'll get it later." His hands hover over the door handle, caught in the indecision of departure before a ghost fo a smile appears on his lips. “When I come back.”

The ambient sounds of the store, the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the intermittent creaks of the floor fills the deafening silence. The door handle finally yields to his touch, and the door opens with a muted chime. He steps halfway through, still tethered to the threshold. The quiet rustling of the candy boxes accentuates the pause, and he turns back to you, a question lingering in his gaze. The fluorescent lights overhead continue to cast their gentle glow, creating a subdued ambiance that amplifies unspoken tension that you tried damn hard deescalating.

A beat passes, and you nod towards the candy. "Okay. When you come back." The words hang in the air as a subtle invitation. With a final nod, he steps out, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you in the quiet aftermath with the candy boxes.

Uncertainty takes residence in your thoughts, including the consideration that perhaps you meant to reunite with Junhui. You still have shattered pieces of your youth, reminding you he has the power to hurt like he’s done before. Yet, a weariness settles in—a weariness with the familiar routine, the predictability that has defined your interactions. Throughout your life, your every move has been strategic, a means of survival for yourself and your family, driven by the imperative to secure their well-being. Maybe it's time to defy convention and take it back to your roots, do what present-day you wouldn’t dare do.

You meet as expected, coming out of your work in your casual attire usually hidden behind an obnoxiously loud candy sales apron, muted in colors that paired well with the night. Junhui stands before you, a bundle of roses–bigger than you’ve ever seen–is hold up with endless ribbon and his iron grip. “A cliche, but I figured you were overdue one. This obviously doesn’t make up for anything–”

“I appreciate it,” you interrupt. “It’s the kindest thing someone’s ever done for me to be honest.”

“Well, good,” he grins, “But I have much more planned.”

It’s funny. The last thing you expect on thursday–the day after valentines–is to be on an helicopter several thousand feet in the air overlooking the town and their handful of buildings in every corner. You look as if discovering color for the first time with the bright lights under your feet looking like stars, insignificant yet blinding where you sat. You glance over at Junhui in shock as he smiles at your amazement, finding you the most profound thing he’s seeing tonight.

Dinner is given, considering that was the original plan, but dinner in the nicest restaurant a town over with a private room to yourselves isn’t. Junhui, stylish in a simple navy button-up and lack of blazer left in the aircraft with no remorse, picks through with chopsticks his perfectly cooked wagyu steaming from the scorchingly deliciously broth that coats it before putting it in his mouth.

You follow after him, not forgetting to dip rich and decadent flavors the sauce he personally curated for you. Having only ever eaten to survive, you’ve never had hot pot before and Junhui looks as if he’s an expert.

“The way I will miss this every day the moment dinner is over,” you pick up sauce from the corner of your lip with your tongue, a film of umami dancing on your tastebuds.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had hot pot before,” Junhui expresses in disbelief. “You have not lived until a molten piece of wagyu melts in your mouth.”

“Yeah,” you softly chuckle knowingly. “Out of my price range most days, if I’m being honest.”

“Right. Just kind of the life I always knew, I hope I get to share it with you more.”

Your eyebrow raises by a fraction. “More?”

An airy laugh escapes from Junhui's lungs as he picks up another piece of perfectly cooked Wagyu and places it on your plate. “More.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, following the delicious gift bestowed on your plate before facing him. You don’t know why your hands are clammy, you’re just having dinner in a restaurant you wouldn’t otherwise know about in another town dropped off in a fucking helicopter. “Jun. I didn’t come here to rekindle a relationship from when we were kids.”

His hands falter, dropping strength as he picks up his food. “I know…I was just. I was just happy to see you.”

“Really? Then why did we part like that?”

“Like what?”

“Without a goodbye.”

A look of resolve washes over his flawless complexion, “…I didn’t expect it either. My parents made it their life’s mission to give me the life that they thought I deserved and wanted. To them, that meant a life without, well, anything short of the best. Whatever made our family looked good.”

You fork through your food, a mixture of curiosity and frustration etched across your face. “You could’ve at least told me.”

“I didn’t know we were going until we flew off. I wish I had, I would’ve stopped that plane at all costs. Come back to this town for work, thinking everything’s changed. Then I saw you, I was ecstatic. Like, a piece of me still left behind in this town.”

You laugh in disbelief. “Jun, you’re joking. I’m not anybody.”

“You were the last real friend I had. The last authentic relationship I had with anyone my age. All business, no pleasure. When I left, I was trained day and night, molded into this perfect model exec. Perfect to continue my family’s business. Well, almost perfect.”

Your gaze lingers on him, unraveling the layers of his confession that starkly contrast with his captivating exterior. His chocolate hair is illuminated by the light of the dangling chandelier, his body is hugged by the luxurious cotton as if it were a second skin. Despite the opulent surroundings, the genuine humility he exudes speaks volumes about his character. He is perfect.

"Well, you seem to be pretty damn perfect from where I'm standing."

He shakes his head, putting another piece of meat on your plate, followed by a piece of shrimp. “That’s far from it. It’s funny you’ve gotten to see it all. Me messing up. I try not to let that happen to often.”

“So Valentine’s Day…it was all because of work?”

He nods, a subtle grimace betraying the weight of his responsibilities. “The one and only dreaded mistress.”

Junhui has worked all of his life until this moment, even in his desperate escape from reality. It’s a weight on his shoulders, constantly beckoning at him for his attention, and somehow having their vice grip on his collar. He knows it's unhealthy, but it’s all he’s ever known. All the socialite dinners, the charity events, the several hours long meetings on a daily basis. It’s the life he has always lived.

Then comes you, someone a sight for sore eyes. Age obviously has had its way with you but it did not rid you of your grace or gentle gaze. You had that look even young. Someone who only spoke of kindness and sincerity, even now with him, who stood you up hardly 24 hours ago. He could at least make up for it. He wasn’t sure if it was to you or himself.

The clinking of silverware against plates punctuates the conversation, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken. The restaurant buzzes from the crack of the door, oblivious to the palpable remorse for a relationship–even friendship–that cease to exist in your private room.

“She isn’t good to you?”

“She’s…demanding. Do you remember when that kid Wonwoo stole your juice box without looking and every day after for the rest of the year?”

You scowl, recalling the glasses-dependent little boy. "What a brat. I couldn't stand him."

Jun laughs, sensing the lightheartedness in your tone. “Kind of like how he stole something you love, your favorite apple juice, that’s what work has done to me: stolen my happiness at the end of the day. It’s…exhausting.”

“I understand that. I’m in a similar situation. Working to live is what all we can do nowadays.”

Junhui holds up his drink for you to clink. “Fuck adulthood, am I right?”

You grin, lifting the glass. “Let’s not talk about work then. To live the night to the fullest.” Your cups clank and you drink your first of many glasses of wine of the night.

You end up relearning about Junhui, hearing about his likes, dislikes, dreams, and what he’d do if he wasn’t him. It’s strange. You don’t go on dates but here you are with Junhui, one of the most interesting men you’ve ever met and you’re enjoying yourself. You’re enjoying his presence.

Perhaps you’re enjoying it too much.

Your work clothes find themselves on the floor, your arms dangling from from his taut body to feel the tension of his muscles gather your flesh in his grasp.

How did you get in his apartment? You swear up and down that you had just been in the restaurant.

You gasp as his lips find your neck, cascading kisses over your skin and his hands find the fullness of your thighs. Your hands run through his hair with reckless abandon, tugging from the root and breathing against his ear. You feel a shudder run down his spine and he lifts you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist as you’re enveloped in soft giggles.

You utter his name in a heated whisper, feeling the friction of his bulge against the plush of your stomach. You grasp his face, looking into his eyes that were blown out from lust, and trace over his features wordlessly. A hint of a smile creeps against his mouth before reuniting with you in a liplock, softly giggling against your lips.

“You taste like wine,” he presses a tender kiss, “I like it.”

“You’re just a little drunk,” you sweetly respond, squealing as you meet with the cushion of his mattress adorned in the most lush sheets. His playful gaze peers over you in piqued interest, kneading into your flesh as he ravishes your body, eliciting moans that delight him to the point of hardening.

You feel it swelling under your palm and you find yourself smiling, drunk on not substance but fantasy, as in this moment, it feels like you are living in a dream. At this moment, you’re not working multiple part-time jobs to make ends meet and send money to your family. You’re living. There's no pressure, only bliss; and right now, bliss is being in Junhui’s touch.

His clumsy yet gentle hands strip you to your skin, slipping you out of your straps and embracing every inch of your body. You reciprocate, roaming his body in light strokes, taking him by his hips.

“Are you sure about this? Are you sure about me?” Junhui cautiously asks, fingers threading through your hair.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you respond, voice laced with ease.

You extend your arms, beckoning him to come closer, but you sense the tension in his muscles. Worry graces his eyes as he hesitates, and he voices his uncertainty, saying, "I'm not sure if you are."

“Junhui…” your hands caress his arms, goosebumps pebbling his skin. “I want you so bad.”

“I want you too.” His legs anchor on either of your sides, towering over you. “I don’t think I wanted anything—anyone as badly as I want you.”

His words sober you up, oxygen stolen from your lungs. Your lips parted for nothing to come out, a wordless ponder in what he had meant. You slip off his grasp with his gentle release, his head bowing down in view. “But I shouldn’t do this. Not in your state.”

“But—“

“I shouldn’t have even gotten this far, but I’ll be holding myself back from now on.”

He picks himself up, and the draft immediately hits your flushed skin. He picks up your abandoned clothes and tucks them under his arm before making his way to a wardrobe. He pulls out a set of silk pajamas and sets them at the end of the bed. “I’ll wash your clothes and you can sleep in these. They might be a bit big, but they’ll be comfortable.”

You’re speechless as he walks away, disappearing behind the heavy door of the bedroom you’re left alone in. You weren’t sure how to feel. Unwanted. Betrayed. Disappointment. However, sleep offers no time for deliberation, and the amalgamation of fatigue and alcohol becomes a potent concoction for slumber. Lost in the enveloping darkness, your body succumbs to the overdue rest. Resolving to deal with it in the morning, you surrender to the oblivion of sleep.

It’s a morning unlike any other, starting with the fact you decide not to be at work today like you should’ve been, but you’d soon regret that later. That thought is interrupted by Junhui bringing you breakfast, setting it on the bedside table to take the space by you. “Did you sleep well?”

You slowly nod, emerging from the sheets you’ve found temporary comfort in.

“I left you some hangover medicine, just in case.”

“Thanks, Jun.”

“And I’m sorry for leaving you here by yourself. I wasn’t sure if I could handle being alone with you in a room.” He shifts in bed, weight dropping deeper into the mattress. “I’m glad I stopped things before we–I did something I’d regret.”

“...I wouldn’t have regretted it.” The bed sheets fall past your thighs to reveal your bare legs, cool air brushing against your warm flesh. You notice how his eyes lower to your exposed skin, his hand visibly tingling with urge.

Words hitch in Junhui’s throat before he clears it, speaking as he averts his gaze. “Still. That would’ve been a very, very bad idea.”

"That's very considerate of you," you say, inching closer to him. “Wish you were considerate enough to wake me up early enough to go to work, though.”

Guilt sweeps across his features, he releases a soft chuckle of disbelief. “I skipped out on work too. Guess we’ll both be in some load of trouble.”

“Best we make it worth it, right?”

Food would not saite the hunger in your body. It craves much more than it can offer. Junhui only knows half an idea of what that is.

You quickly pick up where things were left off from last night, finding yourself topping over him with purpose, meeting his lips in a feverish frenzy, and finding that sense of abandonment. Junhui, lost beyond comprehension in your heat, takes only a split second to compose himself and undo his clothes as you undo yours. Warm familiarity swells his chest touching your skin as his fingers dig in your hips. He sighs against your lips and all he can think about is making up for lost time.

“Gosh, you’re so big, Jun.” Your hand runs along his shaft, gliding it against the slit of your heat. Jun inhales, latching around your vicarious wrist, catching the subtle darkness in your eyes that halts the saliva running down his throat. “C-condom?”

“I’m safe. Don't worry,” you let out, a sultry laugh to follow.

“I figured, but the other thing?”

“I’m protected from that too,” you whisper, grinning. “Anything is on the table.”

His face reminds you of strawberries and cream, sweet and red. He lowers his gaze timidly, unable to suppress his smile, almost too precious not to bite into. Almost.

You press his cock between your folds, letting your heat melt around him and you mewl over his size. He softly moans caressing your shape and letting you have control as your teeth nip at his shoulder. The cushion of your thighs crushes around his body in an iron grip, working him between your walls.

You lift your upper body for display, kneading your breasts that’s used to the constant confinement of a 12-hour work day before guiding Junhui to join you. Eagerly, he follows, feeling your flesh spill through his hands, your nipples growing stiff as he twists them between the pads of his fingers. Stars in his eyes, he instinctively thrusts up you, and stuffs his cock deeper back in you, watching the plushness of your body land safely back into him.

You stumble to maintain your form, utterances of religion on your tongue. You lick your lips and latch to every inch of his throbbing hunger. His name comes out in choked breaths, complimenting him without the prestige vocabulary, and you grind into him until he disappears inside you. Your eyes flutter in contentment, the kindling fire in your abdomen burning a bright glow.

“Shit…”

Junhui a hand claims the back of your neck, pushing your head down until he meets your lips once again. It’s so gentle yet lustful, almost like love, but you know to suspect otherwise.

In an instant, he flips you on the bed, landing you on your side. Your body, experiencing too much ecstasy to protest, allows Junhui to take reign and is pleasantly surprised with his choices.

“I swear I have more self-control,” He defends before his hand gingerly makes its way between your legs, and the pads of his fingers find your clit in a sensual caress. “Just…just not today.”

Your arousal creates a film of sex on his fingers, building pleasure as his cock regains his paces, fucking into your steady, controlled rhythm. It’s delicious, tantalizing, and makes your back arch at every thrust, but you know he’s holding himself back. You know there’s more in him.

“More, Jun…”

“Too…soon…”

He bites his grunts into your side, sandwiching you between him and the mattress, and he ruts into you only a fraction harder. His patience has you desiring for more, compelled to lure him into a drastic reveal of his inner demons. Your head turns to him, eyes oozing in need and conviction, and you softly jut out your lip to plead. “Please, Jun…”

“I’ll cum…too soon…” he whines.

You force your hand, then your hips, slamming back against him, needy and desperate. It's filthy with the look in your eyes, the bounce against his lap, the blood rushing over Jun’s whole body down to his disciplined cock. His length runs along the slick of the walls, the walls that feel only narrower as he grows bigger. He swears under his breath he can’t take it, fucking you loud and clear until the clash of your skin was comparable to the sound of drums.

Before Junhui is determined to savor every thrust, now he only wishes to seek a newer form of enlightenment in every inch of your body. Your hands ball into the sheets, gaining a foundation, and your eyes start to roll back into your skull, now you savoring every hasten jerk of his hips. No longer delicate and kind, but relieving yet electrifying.

You embrace every corner of him until your climax explodes like a bomb, traveling to all parts of your body and you can no longer recall where you are. Your legs spasm, toes curling, hips writing, and it doesn’t stop. Not for a while.

Junhui hardly notices as he’s lost in his own pleasure, your swollen clit between his fingertips. Your voice muffles as it falls against the sheets, although he expects them to be incoherent as he is now with only sex on his mind.

Eventually, his gut tightens, a surefire sign that it would soon enough come. His arms crush around your body as he lifts you against him. He pounds deep and hard into you, your pleasured sounds of ache growing smaller as his thrust does, and he floods every ounce inside you. He hears your shattered breath against his ears, unearthing his own before his body limps and falls over on the bed.

Both of you needed escape for your own reasons, reasons being much similar than you realize. Now all that left is breakfast, and the ponderance of what’s to become of this after. One suspects more to come, seeing this as only the beginning of something different, maybe even good. The other is ready to face reality, go back to daily routine, and do what’s needed to be done.

Unsurprisingly, you are the latter.

108 notes · View notes

harrystylescherry · 1 year

Text

A/N: i am finally back from the pits of...my life, where all i do is work and complete grad school homework. i have like 15 fics started but not finished--but this one got done in 2 days!! look, girls (me) just wanna have fun (erotic fantasies) okay? thanks

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain

what this is: pure smut tbh

word count: 7.1k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

“Come,” Harry’s voice was low, demanding, as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands gripping the end of the mattress.

Your insides melted and heat spread between your thighs–but you weren’t in the mood to play the part of the submissive today. Although your boyfriend would argue that it wasn’t a part you were playing at all, but who you were deep down. And you hated that he was right. Because underneath your frustration was the need for him to not be upset with you, to please him, to ask for forgiveness.

But you had had a shitty day, one filled with pointless meetings that kept you from doing the work you were actually hired to do, and then got chewed out by your boss for not having met a deadline–one she told you not to worry about in favor of attending those stupid meetings. So you had worked late, hammering out a piece on the benefits of vitamin C, which was really just a regurgitation of all the other info that existed on the internet.

Harry had tried to comfort you, to rub your shoulders as you typed as fast as you could, sighs slipping so fast from your lips it sounded like a single, never ending sound. It was when he suggested, or more-like commanded, that you take a break and eat something that you snapped at him. At the time, you hadn’t really been thinking of the consequences. Especially since he brushed it off with a light squeeze of the back of your neck.

After you sent off the piece (along with a very fake but very polite apology to your manager about missing the deadline), you slapped your laptop shut and finally took a seat across from him at the table.

You didn’t even acknowledge him as you dug into the pasta he had made, realizing for the first time that you hadn’t eaten since ten that morning, despite working from his home office. You were wound tight, your shoulders still tense even after Harry had attempted to relieve some pressure.

“You really need to quit.” He said, his eyes on you.

“I know,” you sighed. You didn’t want to have this conversation with him again. It happened once a week. He just didn’t get it–he was older (only by a few years, teetering on the edge of his twenties) and was already established, already successful. He was already a partner at an ad firm, already proved he was worth something. You, on the other hand, were a struggling journalist who wanted into the music industry–but freelance was hard and you needed money. This job paid a lot. Probably because they needed to make up for the fact that the company itself was a shit show. But it was fine–and you were applying. You were trying to quit, but you needed a net. And Harry didn’t understand that.

“You work ridiculous hours and your boss is insane.”

“I know.”

“It’s killing you, and–”

“Jesus Christ, I know,” you snapped. “Do you really think I don’t know? I hate my fucking job, but I need it, okay? And no, you can’t help me so I can quit and not have to worry while finding something new. I don’t need you to take care of me. So stop.”

His shock morphed into irritation. “That’s strike two.” His voice was hard. “And only because I know you’re having a bad day, and that you didn’t mean it.”

“And what if I did,” you mumbled as you moved your food around your plate.

Harry exhaled sharply through his nose and stood up from the table. “Finish eating. Then we’ll talk.” It wasn’t a request. On his way to the sink, he dropped a hand into your hair and scratched softly. “I’ll be in my office.”

Even in a shit mood, Harry in Dom mode was hot. This wasn’t something new to either of you, but you two weren’t very hardcore either–no whips or masks, or gags. You were more of a bondage and mild pain kind of girl and Harry respected that, though he did sometimes push your limits.

When you two were out in the world–on dates, at parties, with family or friends–the dynamic was normal, but in the evenings, after you were both home from work, and over the weekends he got to order you around, punish you and take you however and wherever he wanted. So, really, you should probably apologize before you got yourself in trouble.

You weren’t in the mood to give up control tonight, not entirely. You didn’t even think you could if you wanted to. The stress was at an all time high and you were gripping tight to whatever control you had, since at work lately, it felt like you had none; at the whim of everyone you worked under. The late nights, the Teams messages at random hours of the day–your control was slipping in a way you didn’t like. There was no way you could give up whatever semblance of it you had left.

It seemed your boyfriend knew that, and was giving you opportunities to relax in a way he didn’t do very often–ever, actually, up until a few weeks ago when you started shutting down from stress. Instead of bending you over his knee or edging you until you were close to tears, he’d let the disobedience slide and curl you into his lap or side instead. Still, he’d demand you tell him how you felt, talk through your stress and frustration, refusing to let you disrupt the free flowing communication that needed to exist between the two of you, or keep yourself closed off from him.

Opening up to him wasn’t hard. It never was, and it’s what made him the perfect Dom for you. That and he was really fucking hot, lean but strong. And the way he looked in a suit? Jesus.

Your muscles clenched at the thought.

You finished your plate and drank the rest of your wine. After dumping your plate in the sink and refilling your glass, you made your way up the stairs and down the hallway where Harry’s office was. You paused to the right of the doorway and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to talk. It wouldn’t do any good. Why couldn’t he just let you stew and drink. Why did he have to know everything?

Something inside you flared. That was bad. Anger wasn’t good–anger meant a biting remark that would surely get you in trouble. You took a long sip of wine and another deep breath before relaxing your shoulders and walking into the room.

Harry was sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop. He had cleaned up all your work stuff from the day, piled your notebooks neatly on top of your laptop, recapped all your pens and fastened them back into their case.

You stood next to him, and he didn’t even look at you. You tried not to tap your foot or sigh with impatience, but it was hard.

“Plan on behaving now?” He asked with his eyes still on the screen.

You bit your tongue and counted to three. “Yes.”

He raised his eyebrow and peeked over at you.

You swallowed the annoyed sigh. “Yes, sir.” You ignored the way your cheeks flared when you said it.

“Better,” he said before going back to the document on his screen.

Oh my god. Couldn’t you two just get this over with so you could take a bath and go to sleep? The thought of having to wake up and work tomorrow made your jaw clench. You closed your eyes and told yourself it was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. You were miserable and so stressed out that you woke up every morning with a sore jaw. The anxiety bundled in the pit of your stomach before making its way up your throat. The thought of logging in tomorrow, being met with at least seventy emails and your submitted draft hacked up by your manager–who had never written a thing in her life, by the way–made your cheeks burn and chest clench.

If Harry noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t tell you to sit down or go to sleep or…literally anything. The anxiety morphed itself back into frustration as you just stood there, waiting.

He pulled his hands from his keyboard and rubbed them over his face before motioning to you. You took a step closer and he pushed the chair back slightly and pulled you to stand between his legs. Harry took the glass from your hands and put it on the desk. He planted his hands firmly on your hips and squeezed until it was almost painful.

A rush moved through you.

He dropped his head against the spot right under your chest and kissed over the t-shirt you wore. Before you could drop a hand into his hair, he stood up.

He walked towards the small love seat that sat next to the tall bookshelves and pulled you after him. You worked hard not to shuffle your feet.

Harry sat down and pulled you into his lap with ease. “Talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You were met with narrowed eyes and a stern look. You crossed your arms protectively over your chest and his eyes narrowed even more. When you wouldn’t relent, Harry squeezed one of your thighs harshly. You jumped and resented the heat that returned below. You dropped your hands into your lap and Harry’s big hand fell over them. Holding them here.

“Try again.”

You stretched your neck, trying to expel some of the frustration and anxiety you felt. You didn’t want to talk about it. Why did you always have to talk about it? Maybe if you just apologized, it would be fine and he’d let it go. Maybe. Hopefully.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You morphed your face into something that you hoped looked sincere and sorry. Even though you weren’t. At least, you weren’t sorry [enough]. You didn’t want to upset him, ever. You wanted his praise, for him to be proud of you–but there was only so much succumbing to power a girl could take. You were taking it enough at work. Succumbing at home wasn’t as easy these last few weeks. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t be lying to me either.”

“I’m not–” Another harsh squeeze to your thigh. When you saw the disapproving look on his face, a part of you yearned to fix it. And you fought that part of you away. Keep your control.

“We don’t lie, love.” The softness seeped back into his voice. “If you’re going to apologize, you’re going to mean it.”

You raised your eyes to his, a rip of fire going through you. You didn’t want to apologize to him–not when he started it. You had dolled out enough apologies for one day–to your manager, mostly, after taking the blame and fixing problems she created. “Well, then I guess I’m not apologizing.” A pause. “Sir.”

Harry clicked his tongue in disapproval and gave a laugh devoid of any humor. “Strike three, then.”

You rolled your eyes and he caught your chin between his fingers roughly. “You and your fucking attitude lately. I’ve been patient.” His eyes darkened. “Not anymore.”

He put you on your feet and tugged your hair before walking wordlessly out of the room.

You knew you were supposed to follow him, that he [expected] you to follow him–a shiver ran down your spine. The urge to follow him, to relinquish your control started to consume you and you fought it.

If you don’t go, it’ll be worse. If he has to call your name, the punishment will be worse.

You squeezed your eyes shut cursing yourself for being stupid, for forgetting your restraint; for thinking that Harry would allow you a little power, that you could hold onto it.

By the look in his eye and the tone of his voice, he hadn’t been joking. His patience was spent and you were in for it.

Your thighs clenched at the thought and a little apprehension mixed with the thread of thrill that laced through your stomach. He wouldn’t be too harsh, would he? It had been a while. A few weeks at the least–maybe even two months since you had been punished, since things had hurt just a little more than they pleasured.

You realized you were still standing in the middle of the office and hurried after him down the hallway, not wanting to give him another reason.

His back was to you when you stepped into the room and he was taking off his tie in front of the mirror. “Strip,” he ordered.

The deepness of his voice was welcome, though your nerves spiked just a little.

You pushed your jeans down your legs and slipped off your t-shirt. Then, your bra and panties. When he turned, his gaze was disapproving and your heart sank.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to look at me,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves.

You dropped your eyes immediately. Christ, he was serious. You were in more trouble than you had been in in ages.

“Turn around and bend over. Hands around your ankles.”

Your face heated. Immediately, you did as you were told and chastised yourself. So much for keeping a semblance of control.

“What’s your safe word?”You heard him open the wardrobe in the corner of the room and then rummaging.

“Red,” you said, your uneasiness evident. His movements paused. “Red, sir.”

You heard him hum, satisfied. “Good.”

Your heart rate increased as his footsteps grew closer and you heard him tap something against his leg. You peeked around your legs and your breath caught.

“It’s been awhile so here’s a reminder: the safe word is only to be used if absolutely necessary; when you physically or mentally can’t take it anymore. Not because you’re nervous or scared. Not simply because it hurts. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You made sure not to forget that time. His taking a moment to clarify left you shaking slightly. If he noticed, he didn’t comment. He didn’t try to assuage your nerves either.

He held the crop at his side while he ran a hand over your ass. “Soft,” he said, his voice anything but. The crop smoothed over your ass before tapping lightly against your skin. When he brushed it over your exposed pussy, you forced yourself to hold back a whimper. “I’ve been nice. More than nice. And you’ve taken advantage.”

The crop came down on your ass and you flinched. It was only a sting–one that morphed into pleasure quickly.

“I’ve been patient, letting you speak to me in a way that would usually have you bent over the table in less than a second.”

It came down on the other cheek, harder. You released a small sigh at the sensation.

“It’s my fault really, for encouraging it. For letting you get away with it.” His voice told you that he didn’t really believe that. “Or maybe it’s your fault for continuing the behavior, knowing I would disapprove, knowing you were being disobedient and doing it anyway.”

The clear disapproval in his voice made your chest ache and cheeks heat in embarrassment.

Another swat to your ass–and then another, quick on the other cheek. Hard. Your body scooted forward involuntarily and you whimpered. Harry grabbed you and held you in place. “Don’t move.” The growl in his voice sent heat straight to your core.

“This fight for control, it needs to stop. I don’t know where it’s come from because you refuse to talk–another rule broken–but it’s got to end. You need to understand your place, sub.”

Your cheeks flamed. He hadn’t called you that since the early days of your relationship when you tested his boundaries, when the two of you were still getting used to one another and your dynamic. You didn’t like the typical nicknames like pet, or kitten. They made you feel inhuman and a little gross, so Harry tended to call you ‘love’ even when he was angry, when you did something wrong, or were being punished. It was never about what he said, but the way he said it–the fact that he had pulled that out meant you were absolutely fucked.

He swatted your ass a few times in succession, giving you no time to recover between. The stinging sent shocks straight to your clit. You knew you were wet. You could feel it drip through your folds.

“I won’t stand for the disrespect any longer. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Your voice wavered. You wondered if his approval showed on his face, but you were still folded over.

His fingers grazed over the sensitive skin of your ass and you inhaled. They trailed down between your cheeks and circled your clit once. You moaned. His fingers moved up and he pushed one slowly inside of you. Pleasure always came after the punishment–so was it over? Was that it? That was nothing, thank–

“Seems you’re enjoying this a little too much, huh, sub? Not much of a punishment if you’re soaked but not begging. Right?”

You took a deep, shaky breath.

“Ah!” You shrieked when the crop made contact with the sensitive spot where your ass met your thighs.

“When I ask you a question, you answer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stand up.”

When you stood, all the blood rushed back down from your head and you stumbled. Harry caught you easily with a hand on your arm. Once you recovered, he dropped his hand.

“On the bed on your stomach. Ass up, knees apart.”

You kept your eyes down and didn’t move. Nerves filled your chest. It had been so long.

Harry stepped in front of you and tilted your chin up towards him, but you kept your eyes down, not wanting to disobey again.

“Look at me.” When you lifted your eyes, there was a slight smile pulling at his cheek. Approval. Your shoulders relaxed and a small amount of pride swelled in you. “Good girl.” He brushed his thumb over your lips. “It’s gonna hurt. It’s a punishment. You remember those, right?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

The warmth in his eyes returned for a moment and he brushed his knuckles over your cheek. He dropped his hand. “Get on the bed, sub.”

The check-in was over and your all demanding dom was back.

While you got situated on the bed, Harry returned to the wardrobe. You couldn’t see what he was getting, but what you heard lit your nerves on fire. It wasn’t the jingling of the restraints, but his knuckles against the paddle that sent your heart into your throat.

You liked mild pain. Last time he used the paddle, it was a little more than mild. The last time–your skin paled when you remembered. The last time he had used it was during a punishment.

“Hands above your head,” He said as he made his way to stand to the side of the bed.

Your heart was beating so hard you could feel it reverberating off your ribcage, but you obeyed–slowly. He took cuffs from the bedside table and secured them onto your wrists. The coolness of the leather sent a reminder of want straight down to the spot between your thighs. Harry’s fingers brushed over yours unintentionally as he attached the cuffs to one another, and then to one of the restraints attached to the headboard, and you stopped yourself from reaching for him.

Roughly, he pulled you back by your hips until you couldn’t move your arms from where they were above you. Silently, he looped similar cuffs around your ankles and attached them to the restraints at each corner of the bed. There was nowhere for you to go.

In a small moment of panic, you attempted to tug at the restraint keeping your hands above your head, and felt the heat of fear in your cheeks. When Harry heard your small whimper, he came to the side of the bed, placed one big hand over your cuffed wrists and the other on the small of your back, warm and reassuring. Immediately, you felt your heart rate slow.

“Relax. It’s okay.” He paused while you took a deep breath, but your face was still hot. “Do you trust me?” He asked with a voice full of caring.

Of course you did. Harry wouldn’t ever give you more than he knew you could handle; he would never actually make you feel unsafe, or the kind of fear that wasn’t linked to pleasure and excitement.

Speaking of which, as he rubbed the spot on your back, you felt the heat pool at your core.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He smiled before disappearing from your view.

From somewhere behind you, he knocked his knuckles on the paddle once more, almost as a warning.

When it came down the first time, it was nothing more than a sting–one that, you admitted, you quite liked. The next few continued like that, the stings turning into a warmth that had you on the verge of moaning.

Once you finally let one slip, the next spank came down harder. You flinched and sucked in a breath each time it came down.

“Does that hurt?”

You whimpered in response.

You attempted to move forward, away from the paddle, when it came down even harder across both of your cheeks.

“Does that hurt, sub?” His voice was low, hard.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Do you like being punished?”

“No, sir.”

Your ass stung--a burning kind of sting that would have you wincing until tomorrow. And yet, you felt your arousal drip down your leg.

Suddenly, Harry’s fingers were at your core, swirling in the slickness that coated your folds.

“Lying again, are we?”

“No, sir.” And you weren’t lying. You didn’t like being punished, who did? It wasn’t your fault that your body enjoyed the pain, the stinging.

He sighed. “I was going to be nice and only go for ten more, but bad girls don’t get ‘nice’.” He swiped his thumb over your clit and you moaned. When he pulled his hand away, you tried to push yourself towards him, but the goddamned restraints wouldn’t allow it.

“Ah!” You cried when the paddle came down so hard that it more than stung. The pain thudded through your muscles. Twenty of that? The worry prickled over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The harsh pain faded, leaving a stinging that you could handle.

“Count them.”

Whack

“One.”

Another.

“Two.”

Another.

You whimpered. “Three.”

By ten, your voice was shaking and your eyes had begun to water. He wasn’t feeling very accommodating anymore, which was fair considering how far you had pushed him and the rules, and wasn’t giving you a second to recover. Wasn’t giving the sharp pain a chance to dull before coming down again.

By fifteen, you were tensing in preparation for each spank and your ass felt like it was on fire. The heat extended down to your clit, where it ached with need. Each hit sent a vibration straight past your core and to your clit, which was swollen and aching to be touched. You hadn’t let a tear fall yet, but you weren’t sure you could hold them back for much longer.

Your grip on the restraint was tight, your knuckles clenched in desperate need of something to hold onto.

Whack

“E-eighteen.”

Again.

“N-nineteen.”

Again.

“T-twenty.”

You released a breath of relief. It hurt. It really fucking hurt, but you were keenly aware of how turned on you were, at the ache between your legs.

Harry rubbed his hands over your skin and you flinched. “S’okay,” he said. You whimpered and he kissed the small of your back.

He released your ankles from the restraints and then did the same with your wrists, but you didn’t move. Your heart was still racing, even as your body untensed. Your muscles felt sore from useless tugging at the restraints as you blinked the tears away.

Harry walked around the bed and sat down.

“Come,” Harry’s voice was low, demanding, as he sat on the edge of the bed with his hands gripping the end of the mattress.

Your body immediately tensed again.

When you didn’t move, he sighed, annoyed. “Fucking hell.” He twisted, gripped your hips and pulled you over his lap like a rag doll. If you weren’t so worried about what was coming next, you would’ve enjoyed his manhandling a little more. Not to say that you didn’t enjoy it at all.

He positioned you so that your ass was directly over his lap, where you could feel his erection dig into your hip through his dress pants. Your upper body hung off one side of his lap, and your legs hung off the other. He ran his hands over your skin and you began to squirm.

“When are you going to learn.” It wasn’t a question and so you kept your mouth shut. He shifted you so that you were folded over his left thigh. He lifted his right leg and placed it over your legs so you could kick them or wriggle off his lap. He swiped his tie from where he discarded it on the nightstand and expertly twisted it around your wrists before tying it to the nightstand’s leg. When he sat up, he laid an arm across your shoulders.

Once again, he had rendered you immobile. And once again, heat seared through you at the idea of it–the way it always did. You had been trying to hold on to your control, but this is what you liked. You liked being commanded, ordered around, at Harry’s will and mercy. You ached at the idea of relinquishing it all and letting him do whatever he wanted. Take you however he wanted. And you needed this, you thought. After all the stress and frustration, you needed to just let go.

You relaxed against him and his cock twitched against your leg. He ran his hand over your skin that still burned and a soft whimper escaped you.

“Talk to me.” a hint of softness seeped into his voice. “What’s going on with you lately? What’s this need to disrespect and disobey?”

“Nothing.”

You cried out when his hand landed harshly on what was starting to feel like bruising skin.

“Why are you still trying to lie to me?” He ground out.

You didn’t know. There was no reason to, but you were stubborn. You always had been.

When you didn’t say anything, he pushed a finger inside your dripping center. A long, low moan escaped your lips. He moved it in and out of you at an agonizing pace.

When he pulled his finger out, you squirmed in protest.

“Stop.” You stilled. “If you want more, you’ll talk.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m just stressed out.” You flinched slightly as he dragged his nails over your ass. “And frustrated.”

“With me?”

“No, sir.”

“With work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I told you to quit.”

Immediately, you went rigid and you knew he could feel your back tense beneath him. He massaged his fingers into your muscles. “See, there. What happened just then?”

“Nothing.”

You cursed when his hand came down. Right after, his fingers moved to your clit and you moaned while trying to push yourself further into his hand, but he wouldn’t allow it.

“You want a reward, huh? Don’t know what makes you think you deserve it.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“If you’re sorry, you’ll talk. So talk.”

He took his fingers away and you whined. He was going to hold you there until you gave him what he wanted, until you let him have all your control.

“Stop being stubborn, sub.”

“I don’t like when you call me that.”

Another swat to your ass. And fuck it burned. Tears sprang to your eyes.

“I’ll stop once you learn your place. Once you’ve earned back my affection.”

Your heart sank and your cheeks heated in shame. After two deep breaths, your body relaxed.

“I feel like–I feel like I have no power at work.” His fingers traced up and down your slit. “I get ordered around all day; blamed and chastised for stuff that isn’t my fault. I spend my whole day feeling degraded and out of control.”

“When you’re used to being your own boss,” he said in understanding. He traced his fingers over the hood of your clit, refusing to make actual contact and you whined in anticipation. “Go on.” The timbre in his voice was back.

“And you telling me to just quit–” He squeezed your clit between his fingers as a warning to lose the attitude. You adjusted your tone. “I want to quit and I know I need to, but I can’t. And when you make it out to be so easy, it makes me mad.” He trailed his fingers through your folds, running them over your labia, spreading your arousal until every piece of you was wet. You gave a shuddering moan. “It felt so defeating–giving up all my control after a day of having it just taken from me.”

“It is easy. If you’d just let me take care of you.” The frustration in his voice was clear.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can, you’re just being stubborn.” He sighed, releasing some of the hardness from his voice. “Bottling up on all that stress and frustration hasn’t done you any good, has it?”

“No, sir.”

“I could’ve been helping you get rid of it, let it go.”

“But–”

He dipped his fingers into you. “You’ve got to let it go, love.” Your chest warmed at the pet name. “Just let me take care of you.”

You attempted, again, to push yourself into his hand when he brushed his knuckles over your clit.

“If you want to come, love, you’re gonna have to relinquish control. You’re gonna have to let me take care of you.”

You moaned in frustration as his fingers ghosted over you.

“Please.” He pinched you again. “Please, sir,” you corrected.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice was soft. “Will you let me take care of you?”

When you whimpered in agony, he shoved two fingers deep inside of you–and pulled them out just as quick. Your breathing had sped up and your nipples hardened as they brushed against the fabric of his pants.

“Will you let me?”

Fuck, you couldn’t take it anymore–and he wanted to, so why wouldn’t you let him?

“Yes, s-sir.”

“Ask me.”

Of course he was going to make you ask him.

He circled around your clit, but didn’t touch it. You felt yourself begin to pant with need.

The embarrassment began to encroach on your chest but you pushed past it. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please, take care of me.”

A slap to your pussy sent you reeling.

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Please, take care of me, s-sir.”

“Since you asked nicely.” The smirk was evident in his voice.

He pushed two fingers into you, curling them in the way he knew you needed. A moan broke from deep in your chest and you tried to grip onto his thigh, but the tie held your hands firmly in place. As he fingered you deeply, he leaned forward and kissed the skin of your back.

“If I untie you, will you be good?”

His fingers still moved in and out of you, and with the sounds falling from your lips, all you could do was manage a nod. Your boyfriend chuckled. He held his fingers inside of you and bent over to tug at the knot to release you. Your wrists were slightly red from writhing against the fabric and the sight of them sent a shameful spark of excitement through you.

Easily, he lifted you up and placed you so you were sitting up, your back against his chest and your ass on his lap, rubbing against his erection. He stretched one arm across your chest and placed his hand on your breast, holding you against him, while the other opened your legs, lifting each one up and draping them over his open knees.

“You’re not going to try and close your legs, are you, love?”

“No, sir.” You placed your hands behind your thighs, onto his, working to hold yourself up. Your body was tired. Even if you wanted to close your legs, you weren’t sure you had the energy.

“That’s my good girl.” You melted at his approval. He dropped his head down and nipped and kissed along your neck and shoulder while the hand that wasn’t holding you to him landed between your legs.

He traced slow circles over your clit and your head dropped back against him. You were so ready, that it didn’t take much for the tightening in the pit of your stomach to start; as it did, your moans increased and your chest began to heave. His pace was agony. When you tried to increase the pressure by lifting yourself to his fingers, he held you back.

“Please…” you breathed. “...faster.”

“No.”

You groaned and he laughed softly against your skin.

The build up was almost painful and your ass stung fresh each time it rubbed against him, but soon you saw white and a loud cry escaped you as your hips bucked against him and your chest shuttered in his hand.

“Good girl,” he whispered, holding his pace as you came down. You were swollen and shaking, each stroke of his finger bringing through a new aftershock. “You’re not done, love.” He whispered.

Before you could question him, he lifted you and laid you on the bed on your back. When you went to sit up, you were met with a glare. You lowered yourself back down and waited, legs open, for him.

He tugged you to the edge so that your toes barely touched the floor and your ass hung off the edge. Harry leaned over you and for the first time all night, brushed his lips against yours. When you whimpered, he grabbed your jaw and deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth, swirling it over yours. He was warm and still tasted like the wine the two of you drank with dinner. Your body reignited, your nipples rising to peaks and your clit throbbing for more. He rubbed his erection against your thigh and indulged in a moan.

When you tried to loop your arms around his neck, he grabbed them and held them against the mattress. “I don’t want to restrain you again, so don’t make me.” It was a warning–one that sent a jolt straight to your core.

Not looking for a response, he pushed himself up and went to the nightstand. He pulled out a vibrating dildo and kneeled down in front of your open pussy. He kissed the inside of your thighs, the spot between your thighs and your lips, and just over your clit. Each time his breath hit you, you shuddered.

The tip of the dildo touched your core and you shivered against the cold silicone. He dipped it into you slowly, allowing you a moment to register its size, before he pushed it into you entirely. It curved, scraping against the spot inside that sent your back arching off the bed. It was big–and thick. You felt yourself stretch around it, filling you entirely.

It clicked on and your muscles tightened around it. “Oh, my god.” You gripped at the comforter beneath you as your hips began to roll.

Harry squeezed the inside of your thigh and began moving it in and out of you again. Your breathing was ragged and you had to force yourself to keep your legs open, to keep your toes touching the floor.

“Does that feel good?”

“Ye–yes, s-sir.”

He kissed your clit before increasing the vibrations. You cried out as your hips bucked, your clit searching for any kind of friction. Harry hummed and you felt the slick of his tongue against you. You struggled to keep your hips down as pleasure rolled through you, hot and intense.

“Oh, my god.” Your hips began to buck–and suddenly you were empty. Cool air replaced Harry’s tongue. You whimpered and lifted your head. “Wha-”

“I don’t remember giving you permission to come, did I, love?” His voice was thick, his pupils blown out in desire.

“N-no. I’m sorry, sir.”

Without warning, the vibrator was inside you again, pushing against your walls, while Harry flicked his tongue quickly over your bud. Your grip on the comforter was deadly and your chest heaved as you attempted to stave off your orgasm.

It continued to build and moans slipped through your lips unallowed.

“Sir…” You groaned.

“Not yet.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t.”

A sweat broke out across your forehead and dampened your chest. You tried to focus on anything other than the way Harry’s tongue lapped at your clit and how well the dildo filled you. But it was hard. You could feel yourself losing control.

Harry nipped at your clit in warning, but you were so far gone it didn’t hurt, only added to your pleasure.

He was holding out, but you weren’t sure for what. He had already punished you–what more did he want?

Relief filled you when you realized: he wanted you to beg. He wanted you to give up control, to beg him to help you come undone.

“Sir, p-please.”

He ignored you.

“Please, can I come.”

He hummed against you.

“Please–fuck–please, can you help me come…”

He kissed your clit. “Go ahead, love.”

You relaxed and let your orgasm rip through your body. The pleasure was so good it was blinding. Your cries mixed with curses and you had the comforter balled so tightly in your fists you were surprised it didn’t tear.

After its peak, you had a moment of contentment before searing pleasure sent your skin on fire. He had upped the vibrations–and not just inside you, but against your clit. It seemed he had been hiding the vibrators rabbit attachment from you, saving it to send you over the edge one last time.

He rocked the dildo inside of you, hitting your g-spot while the points of the rabbit pressed against your already swollen clit. He reached his free hand up and pinched your already erect nipples, while kissing your hips and mound.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered against your skin. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. Teetering on the verge of coming undone for the third time, he lessened the vibrations and came to lay next to you on the bed. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you.

He started moving the dildo inside you and bent down to give you a hard kiss.

“You need to let go. Stop fighting it.”

“I’m n–” Your argument died in your throat when you realized how tense your body was. You tried to relax, but it was too much. It would be too much. You were sore and swollen and so sensitive that a few tears had already slipped down your face.

He dipped down and rubbed his nose against your cheek. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered.

You looked at him and saw only tenderness and love. “Yes, sir.”

He changed the vibrator’s setting once more and you cried out.

“Keep your legs open,” he commanded while you writhed against the bed and he watched you.

He licked at your now tender nipples.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

You wanted to please him–and you wanted the release.

You breathed through the unbearable pleasure and the second your body relaxed, an orgasm unlike any other tore through your body. You let out a scream as Harry rocked the dildo against your g-spot and continued his assault on your nipples with his tongue.

Your cries grew hoarse as he forced you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm with the vibrations set to high and your body shook with the aftershocks as your muscles tightened around the toy still inside you.

He pulled it out and kissed you softly, as your body continued to shake with the aftermath. He wiped tears from your cheeks that you hadn’t even realized had fallen and pulled you tightly into his chest. Your breathing was ragged as he ran his hands over your back. When he brushed his hands over your ass you flinched.

“That might hurt for a bit,” he whispered. You cuddled closer and he kissed the top of your head.

When he started to move, you whimpered. He sat up and pulled you with him. You groaned in protest and scratched down your back. “Just moving us under the blanket, love.”

As he settled against the pillows with you between his legs and your head on his chest, the relief pooled in your chest. The stress was gone, as well as the frustration.

Then, just as quickly, an emptiness moved in–an embarrassment at the fact that you had been punished. This always happened afterwards and you hated it every time.

When he heard you sniffle, he tilted up your chin to look at him.

“Oh, poor baby.” He said when he saw the tears in your eyes. He hugged you tighter and you burrowed into him, though it was impossible for you to get any closer. “I’m sorry I had to do that. I know you’re not a fan of the paddle.” He rubbed his hand up and down your arm.

“It’s okay. I mean, honestly, I probably should’ve been punished weeks ago.”

Harry’s chest rumbled with a soft laugh. “That’s exactly right.”

“I’m sorry, sir. For being mean.”

“It’s not about meanness. It’s about disrespect, love–disobedience. You know how this works.”

“I know–”

He pinched her side. “Don’t interrupt. It’s unnecessary, so it’s willful. All I ever ask is that you talk to me.”

You looked up at him, asking for permission. He smiled and your heart swelled.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry for being disrespectful,”

“S’okay. I think you’ve learned your lesson” Desire flashed in his eyes and suddenly you were reminded of his still very hard cock pressed against your back.

“Oh–do you want–”

He smiled and shook his head before guiding your head back to his chest. “Not tonight. Sweet of you to think of me.”

Your body relaxed further into him. “My butt hurts.”

You felt his lips against your hair. “Proud of you for taking it so well. You did a good job, love.”

Warmth filled you, knowing you had pleased him. “Thank you, sir.”

The comforter shifted off your shoulder and you shivered.

“How about a warm bath–for the two of us? How does that sound?”

You hummed your approval.

He nuzzled your cheek with his nose. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

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