#IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MORE LIGHTHEARTED BUT THEN I REALIZED

[bigheartbuck]

i keep these longings locked

part i part ii mentions of abbytommy/tommy-centric/eventual bucktommy

tw: internalized homophobia/homophobic language

I promise the next bit is going to be more lighthearted!

tag list: @sweaters-and-silly (lmk if you wanna be added too) ______________________________

His chest is tight as fuck. Tommy breathes through it. Head between his knees, feels his pulse uncomfortably loud and present in his neck. Lockers have emptied out mostly. His vision is swimming. He feels like throwing up.

"Kinard? Oh shit, hey."

He can hear fast footsteps, and then a warm, big hand on his shoulder. "You got it," the voice says and Tommy's brain is desperately trying to place it. His hands are shaking. "Inhale.... hold your breath, three, two, one, ....exhale. Good. Again, come on."

By the time Tommy emerges from what feels like the deepest, darkest sea and comes up for air, he's realized that the warm hand and firm voice belong to his new captain. Hen had given him a week tops. But Nash has persevered. Four weeks and counting. Tommy would've rather been found dead before ever letting Gerrard see him like this but Nash has a softness to him. His whole lets have dinner together shtick, his we're a family and we ride together pathos, his unwavering determination to make them act like a team -- Tommy's not sure he quite fits in there. Right now, though, he's glad it's Nash who found him like this and not Howie or Hen. They'd stage an intervention immediately.

Nash hands him a water bottle, sits down next to him. "Better?"

Tommy lets out a shaky breath. “Thanks cap. I, uh, I don’t know what just happened." He rubs his hand across his face. “I don’t usually get… like this.” He forces a smile. "Guess it was a couple of tough calls."

Nash eyes him, somewhat curiously. Several beats. "Everything alright at home?" Tommy shrugs. He should go home. Sleep it off. He meets Nash's steady gaze, but there's a flicker of genuine concern. Tommy can't handle it, Nash's empathy.

"Yeah. Everything's good," he lies and reaches for his bag. Nash stops him. "Not so fast. I uh -- I'd been meaning to talk to you."

Tommy blinks, confused, his hand still hovering near the strap of his bag. He’s not sure where this is going. "Uh oh," he says dryly. His pulse is still racing and only slowly returning to normal. "Am I being fired, too?" Deluca is still pissed at Nash but Tommy knows it was the right call. He's been putting in the work, though. Doing his part. It would be really shitty timing for Nash to let him go as well.

Nash’s gaze sharpens for a moment, like he’s sizing Tommy up, and then he exhales softly. “No, you’re not getting fired.” He pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. Tommy's shoulders relax. "But?" he asks.

"But..." Nash continues, "I've been wondering if maybe you're not exactly who you're supposed to be."

"That so?" Tommy asks, aiming for casual. Nash doesn't know, does he? Fuck. He wonders sometimes if it's all over his face. Tommy Kinard thinks about kissing boys. Tommy Kinard is a queer. Don't ask, don't tell. But look at him, he tries so hard to be a big guy but he'd take it lying down, wouldn't he? Fuck. He needs to get his dad's voice out of his head. It's funny, the way he is still such a fuck up. How he tried to make it work so hard and how he still failed. He would've given everything to be happy with Abby.

He juts his chin forward. Nash looks at him with so much kindness it makes Tommy want to crawl out of his skin.

"You're a pilot," his captain says, oblivious to the dark spiral of Tommy's mind. Tommy exhales. Breathe. For fuck's sake. Breathe.

"And you're competent, skilled, you're quick. I'd love to keep you here. But I keep thinking maybe you belong elsewhere. And I hear the Harbor is looking for someone like you."

Tommy must look genuinely surprised because Nash lets out a huffed laugh. Tommy hasn't considered flying in years. "Seriously?"

Nash nods. "You're one of my best. But I saw the way you lit up when we called in air support last week. You loved working with them. So, my guess is, that's where your heart is."

Tommy thinks no one's ever paid attention to him like this before. His stomach unknots slowly. Shoulders uncurl.

"I'll -- I'll think about it."

Nash squeezes his shoulder. "You should. It can feel like suffocating. Denying yourself what you want."

Tommy stares down at his hands.

"Yes, cap," he says, throat working.

"Bobby." Nash points to the jeans he's wearing. "Off shift. I'm just Bobby."

"Bobby." Tommy echoes. His legs still feel like jelly.

He takes a few sips from the water. "I might --" His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

"I might have to look for a new place soon."

He hasn't talked to Abby yet. But he needs to, has to. He wakes up, shirt soaked through with sweat at least twice a night. The darkest, deepest sea in his mind and his father's voice are so hard to turn off. He can't live like this anymore. He's been googling apartments. Abby doesn't even know yet.

"I really uh --" Tommy doesn't know why he keeps talking. "I tried to make a good thing work and it didn't work."

Bobby nods. "And that's causing the panic attacks?" He asks it matter of factly.

Tommy clears his throat. "One panic attack." Lie. But Bobby doesn't have to know or be right about everything. "And I guess --" He hesitates. "Gotta figure out some stuff. Big stuff."

Bobby doesn't say anything for a while. Keeps his gaze steady. Tommy thinks he could probably confide in him. Bobby would see the ugly, dark, twistedness of Tommy's insides and tell him it was okay. That it gets better. And the thing is, Tommy knows. He knows. He saw some kid online the other day on YouTube. They were what, 15? When Tommy was 15 -- well. He's mid thirties now, not any less terrified. It's difficult to explain, out loud. How his head works. How the stuff that goes for others, doesn't apply to him. How he's less deserving of it.

"The big stuff," Bobby says after a while. He looks at Tommy, face open. He says it like a question, gently prompting Tommy to continue.

Tommy's eyes prickle. He should go.

He exhales. "Yeah. Been pretending to be... Someone I'm not."

He's a teenager and his dad caught him with a magazine of naked men and his hand down his pants. He's in the army and Micah is kissing him. He's 34 and engaged to a beautiful woman and he feels nothing when she shakes around him.

His mouth is dry as cotton.

Bobby squeezes his shoulder. "I hear you." A beat. "Don't need to say anything else."

They sit like this for a little while longer. Then, Tommy gathers his things, shoulders his bag. The ground feels a little less shaky. His knees don't buckle. He'll find an apartment. And he'll tell Abby.

"Kinard," Bobby says when Tommy's already at the door. Tommy turns around. "Promise me you'll think about transferring, yeah? Go after what you want?"

Tommy huffs out a laugh. Shakes his head. His chest is lighter. "Aye aye cap." He gives a half hearted mock salute. What he means to say is thank you.

He's pretty sure Bobby hears it anyway.

On the way home, at a red light stop, a jeep comes to a halt next to his car. A guy leans out of the window and asks for directions to the LAFD training academy. He's young. Bright smile, short blond hair. Tommy tells him where to go and the guy thanks him profusely. "Starting a new chapter," he says enthusiastically and adjusts his backwards hat. Out of his stereo Tommy can hear hip hop blaring. Eminem. "Me, too" Tommy shouts back and watches the lights switch to orange. "Good luck then!" the guy shouts over the revving engine and grins. "See you around!"

Tommy laughs.

"You, too!"

Lights turn green.

[laslow]

🍪

"Lazzy!" Smile back in place like it always should be, Yunaka gives him a sing-songy greeting as she skips over to him. The gauntlet is already thrown before she says anything else, pocky held carefully between her teeth as she grins at him. No further words are needed; she offers him the other end of the cookie and waits to see if he rises to the challenge.

Ah, so they're to play again, is that it?

Laslow's grin is nothing short of delighted. They really need to discuss....whatever this is, but that can wait. Far more important things are afoot! "Truly, a pleasure to see you again, my darling!"

He doesn't accept the offered cookie right away. Instead, he takes one of her hands in his, idly running a thumb along her knuckles. "You know," and now he leans in closer, nibbling a small bite of the cookie, "you don't need cookies as an excuse for more kisses."

Another bite. Another. All the while, he keeps a loose hold of her hand, daring to place his other one lightly atop her hip the closer they inch towards another.

There's only one bite left. He pauses for just a heartbeat, looking up at her through his lashes. This isn't about winning or losing the game any longer; they've danced around each other enough that everything is starting to feel a touch serious.

Unless she's viewing it still as some frivolous little distraction, one that can only exist within the rules of this challenge. Laslow steals the last of the cookie with a triumphant sweep of his lips, smiling against her own as he swallows the treat down.

"Yunaka, would you like to go on a date with me?"

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Alright, wordcount of the current "Love will cost you an arm and a leg" chapter (only including the "finished, I don't need to edit this" part) is 5,700+ words.

That's not including the second half of this chapter.

[mars-ipan]

the hinata kinning is strong tonight

[earlgreylatte]

Hello, You

(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

Masterlist

[meowdei]

in every life, it’s you — ft. sylus

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; reader lays on him/sits on his lap ; very cringe and corny fluff and banter but i had to heal myself from the pure trauma that was his myth that i watched last night ; not proof read

“Sylus,” you whisper, “are you sleeping?”

Sylus does not ever sleep when he should—it’s a miracle that he even sleeps at all. Your question is a pointless one in hindsight, but you ask more for the purpose of getting his attention than anything. You realize a little too late, however, that stupid questions will always get you stupid answers with him. It’s an opportunity he never misses.

He gives you a dramatic, loud snore that instantly makes you roll your eyes, lips twitching into a small grin at his antics.

“Don’t be annoying,” you huff playfully.

“You should be prepared for nonsense if you ask me nonsense,” he says smoothly, voice a low, deep rumble through his chest beneath your cheek.

Sylus doesn’t sleep at night. More often than not, he sleeps after the sun rises and not a moment sooner—but he lays with you every night, anyway. Just because it helps you sleep. Just because you need him there and he likes being needed. (Sometimes, he lays with you more for himself. More for the feeling of your body curled against his while you’re most vulnerable, while your guard is down completely and you trust him. He likes your trust—craves it.)

“Nevermind. Goodnight,” you pout, turning your body to face your back to him. It’s useless—as is any form of petulance with him. Sylus is infuriatingly capable of always keeping an upper hand. You body gets flipped effortlessly with a thick, strong wave of red before you’re back to laying against his chest.

“Now, now,” he teases, “no need to hiss like a stray kitten. Your fangs aren’t sharp enough for that yet.”

You melt instantly despite his (lighthearted) mockery. It’s that type of effect he has on you. That feeling you get from the soft, easy way he smiles and that delicate, fragile look in his eyes. You don’t even think Sylus realizes it. How gentle he is by nature. How vulnerable he always looks. How easy he is to love and be loved by. Sometimes, you don’t think he realizes how easily love fits itself between the crinkles of his eyes and seeps into the smile lines by his lips.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, making his smug, teasing grin falter into something a little more vulnerable.

“I was thinking…”

“That’s never a good sign,” he sighs in mock wariness, catching your wrist when you move to slap his chest and giving you a wide, devastatingly handsome grin.

“Shush,” you roll your eyes, fighting back your own grin before continuing, “I was thinking and I need to know: do you think we’re together in every life? We have to be, right?”

He’s quiet for a second, doesn’t answer right away as though he’s really pondering the answer. (Half of you expected him to scoff at the question and call it silly. The other half expected him to laugh in amusement. Humoring your deep, late night question was not on your list of possibilities for the night.)

“You’re working that poor brain of yours overtime with such thoughts,” he murmurs, raising a brow as he pokes your forehead. You scrunch your brows, and he grins friendly. “But I suppose it’s possible. Unless you’re smarter in the next life and stay away from me.”

You pout deeper, rolling to lay your body over his before your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing them together while you force his eyes to stare into yours. (He lets you get away with it. He lets you get away with a lot.)

“I don’t want to stay away in the next life,” you say in concern, like you’re really at threat of living through the nightmare of not having him by your side. He fights back a small, amused snort for the sake of your feelings. “I’d love you in every life.”

“Is that so?” He drawls.

You nod firmly, squeezing his cheeks together a bit more before a small giggle escapes your lips at the view. You press a peck to his mouth, and he cups a hand to the back of your head, keeping you right there where he can kiss you properly.

“Yes,” you breathe as you pull away, voice just a touch breathless. “I’ll be miserable if I don’t.”

“You’re oddly sentimental tonight,” he murmurs, running a thumb along your bottom lip as he inspects your face closely, admiring the delicate curves of your features and the light reflecting in your eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. At least not for now,” you wink, “I can’t make any promises for the future.”

He laughs at that—it’s a low, rich, smooth sound that sends something shooting straight to your heart and makes it race. Makes the blood pump faster in your veins and your head spin at the feeling. Makes you think the sound of his laughter is the only thing you want to remember even when your bones bury into soil and your body returns to the earth where it came from. Just the echo of his voice, filled with joy and nothing else.

“Any particular reason you’re being so sweet?” He tilts your chin up. You turn your head, leaning to press a soft kiss to his palm as it cups your cheek.

“What? I can’t just love you?”

“Well, I’m not saying that. How can I complain about something like that?”

You sit up, suddenly. He lets you, taking the weight of you as you straddle his hips and sit up and cup his cheeks, gently grazing your thumb and studying his features like you need to commit him to memory. Like you might forget him in the next life and you can’t bear to lose the vision of him in the back of your mind.

You love him. It’s the simplest thing you’ve ever done. It comes as easily as breathing through your lungs and pumping blood through your veins.

“I’ll love you in every life,” you say resolutely, voice barely a whisper. “Promise.”

Something flickers in his gaze. Something hopeful with maybe just an echo pain before it’s gone. Before you can think too long about it, he pulls you closer, kissing you hard and firm and desperate like he needs to feel you now to know you’re real.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, sweetheart,” he whispers back, “so I hope you make good on it.”

Things that destroyed me and made me want to quit life as whole: sylus dragon myth.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Actor!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI!, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, vaginal sex, creampie, angst, family fluff, toji has like 50 kids (4) and tries to be a good dad

Summary: Toji's selfishness is getting in the way of your family. When he notices that your family is slowly falling apart, he does what he can to hold it together.

*Actually a long oneshot! for @ayyy-pee's collab

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“ACTOR TOJI FUSHIGURO SPOTTED GETTING A LITTLE TOO COZY WITH NEW CO-STAR”

The headlines are everywhere, it’s nearly impossible for you to ignore them. It’s not only the headlines but the pictures, the videos, the talk shows, the clear chemistry between them– And if that isn’t enough, the messages and calls you receive asking if you’re okay, are driving you insane. You don’t know how much more you can take of this.

Toji wanted to venture out of his usual villain role, wanting to do something more lighthearted, more fun. Whenever he’d audition for anything where he wasn’t the bad guy, he would get a simple answer: you’re not the guy we’re looking for. Truth is, Toji is too intimidating and lacks the look of the perfect picture man that they’re looking to cast in romcoms. You aren’t going to lie and say that you were bothered by this, because in fact, you were glad he wasn’t.

As selfish as it sounds, you were happy with the fact that Toji was getting stuck in the same villain roles. He’s already famous enough, and you have more than enough money, he doesn’t really need the lead role since it means that he’ll spend even more time away from his family. But you lie to yourself because if he got the lead in any other movie, you’d be ecstatic for him. 

The dreaded day came, and Toji got a call from his agent. An offer for a lead role in a new and upcoming romcom. It was hard for you to be happy for him, even though your husband was so excited to venture out of his usual character. ‘He’s going to kiss someone else’ was the first thought that came into your mind, and then you realized that movies nowadays are so much more explicit than just a kiss. 

Toji wasn’t supposed to, but he told you about a couple of things in the movie. He was so excited, and he couldn’t keep a thing from his wife. He told you of the characters, the plot, the scenes he was most excited about and the scenes he was worried about– The steamy scenes where Toji will be stripped to nothing with his tongue down another woman’s throat. 

Jealousy would consume you for the next months, realizing that your husband is going to pretend to be with some other woman; however, you can’t be too mad, since it’s all just happening in front of a camera. You’re the only woman Toji loves, you know so. You shouldn’t take this too seriously.

Until the relationship came off the cameras because the pair has undeniable chemistry, and the directors thought that hinting they were having an affair would make for great promo. You nearly begged Toji not to do it, but he didn’t listen. He wants to ensure the movie’s success, which you understand but it’s humiliating for you and your family.

You’re upset with him, and Toji knows this, but he’s allowed to be selfish. He’s wanted this, and he’ll do just about anything to make sure everything goes smoothly, he can risk having you mad at him for a few months. Although, he’ll admit that it sucks because you’re so cold with him.

“How about we take the kids and go out for dinner tonight?” Toji asks, watching as you get out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel. He wants to go on a date with just the two of you, but he also misses his kids. It doesn’t matter what Toji suggests either way, because you ignore him. He clears his throat, repeating, “How about we go out for dinner?”

“Huh?” You respond, acting as if you hadn’t heard him before, and Toji doesn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes. Toji repeats the question a third time and you proceed to answer, “I’m going out tonight, I can’t.”

“What are you and the kids doing?” Toji questions, wondering why he wasn’t invited. He guesses he knows why, but you should’ve at least tried to make the effort since it involves your kids.

“I’m going out, the kids are staying with the nanny.” You tell him, which makes his eyebrows perk up. Toji stands up from the bed, walking over to you. He hugs you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

“How about we–” He begins but you proceed to cut him off before he can even finish his sentence.

“I’m going out with friends. Without you.” You answer, removing Toji’s arms from your waist. You walk to the closet to find your outfit for the night, and Toji can’t seem to leave you alone, following behind you like a lost puppy. 

“You don’t have to be so cold.” He argues, and you pay no attention to him. You were clear that you didn’t want this to go this far, yet he let it happen. You can be as mad as you want to be with him. “What are you planning to do anyway? Cause a scandal to get back at me?”

“I’m allowed to have fun, am I not, Toji?” You respond. You simply want to go out without thinking of your husband and all the embarrassment his job is bringing. If it causes a scandal, then so be it.

“Then why are you so set on going alone?” He replies, and you scoff. You can’t believe the audacity.

“I just want to be away from you because you humiliate me.” You finally look at him, shooting him a glare. It shouldn’t hurt because he’s caused his own problems, but it still hurts to hear that from his wife, “I was upset about the movie, sure, but I knew you wanted to do it so I bit my tongue. This publicity stunt is too far, and I told you not to do it over and over again, but you did it. Fine. You’re an adult.”

“And? You know it’s not real.” He argues, which only ticks you off more. You won’t raise your voice because your children are wide awake, and you don’t want them to hear as you yell at their father.

“Do you know how many pity messages I’ve gotten? The amount of calls? I’m just the poor victim to all of them, and also the stupid woman that won’t leave her husband.” You respond, and he opens his mouth to argue that it’ll be over soon. In a couple of months the truth will come to light and everything will go back to normal. “The kids are getting teased about it too. Megumi is old enough to know it’s a stunt, but the other three aren’t.”

“What do you mean the two year old and five year old are also affected by this?” He questions in a mocking tone, which tells you that he isn’t fully believing you. You feel your blood boil, and you take a deep breath to keep yourself calm. You’re not letting him get the best of you.

“Well, considering that the ten year old can’t keep his mouth shut and tells the other two that mommy and daddy are getting a divorce, I’d say yes, they are affected by this.” You try to remain stoic, keeping your voice low and calm. Toji bites down his lip, his eyes going wide at the realization that his ten year old refusing to talk to him wasn’t just a simple tantrum. “I tried to tell him that everything is fine between us, but he didn’t exactly believe me.”

“Is that why they’re refusing to talk to me?” Toji’s demeanor changes, becoming somber in a matter of seconds. You end up shrugging, not really knowing why your son is acting the way he is, but you can only assume it’s because of it. 

“I’m not sure. Probably.” You don’t care to really find a solution to his problems since you’re upset with him too. He needs to realize that his actions not only affect him but also his family. You watch as the man walks over to the bed to take a seat and think of what to do with this new piece of information. And while you’re mad at him, you still love him and want to help him out one way or another. You focus on getting yourself ready while you tell him, “How about you take them out tonight? Explain to them that everything is fine between us and–”

“Will you come with us?” He interrupts you, making you click your tongue.

“I’m going out, you can deal with the issues that you’ve caused, alone.” You answer, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He knows that he can’t exactly be too mad at you because you’re right, he caused his own problems. “Take them somewhere to eat, watch a movie with them, play with them. I don’t know. I’m laying it all out for you, Toji. You can decide what’s best.”

“What about you?” He asks, and you don’t even care to entertain him, sitting in front of your vanity to do your makeup. Toji has to repeat himself, and you sigh.

“Figure it out.” 

“Ryo, are you ready?!” Toji yells down the hallway, but his ten-year-old doesn’t answer. Toji simply goes ignored, and the man tries to remain calm. Getting mad isn’t going to do him any good, yelling angrily at his son isn’t going to make Ryo any less mad. 

You left around thirty minutes ago, and Toji spent the entire time trying to convince you to stay; however, his efforts were in vain. You didn’t care enough to listen which shouldn’t really shock him, he’s still upset though. After you left, he began getting his daughters ready to go out, telling his sons to put on something comfortable since they’re going out to dinner.

Now that both of his girls are ready, he’s simply waiting on his sons. Toji knows that Megumi is somewhat ready, but he isn’t sure about Ryo. 

“Aimi, baby, can you wait downstairs while I check on your brother?” Toji asks his five-year-old, and she nods in response. Toji has to talk to his son alone, but he can’t do so with the two-year-old that’s on his hip. He knows that Aimi isn’t going to cause any trouble, but the little one that he holds is either going to get hurt or cause a big mess. He’s dismissed the nanny, and he can’t exactly leave her alone with Aimi. 

Before making his way to Ryo’s room, Toji walks over to Megumi’s door. He harshly knocks on the door and puts Emi down in front of it, as if Toji were the stork himself. Emi is about to run after her papa but Megumi opens the door, and she squeals when she sees her beloved older brother.

“What?!” Megumi yells down the hallway when he spots his father. Megumi picks up Emi from the floor, ensuring that she doesn’t run away.

“I’m going to talk to Ryo! Make sure she doesn’t get hurt!” Toji responds, and Megumi sighs. Not that he particularly minds, but Toji could’ve at the very least waited until Megumi had her in his arms. Megumi clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment before telling his sister,

“What are we going to do with him?” And she shrugs in response.

“I don’t know.” She answers, which makes Megumi laugh. He walks out of the room and goes downstairs to join his other sister. 

Toji stands in front of Ryo’s door. He knocks but he’s met with no response. Toji isn’t willing to respect his kids’ privacy, not when he pays for everything they have. Toji opens the door to the room, finding Ryo in his pajamas, playing with his console. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to have a heart-to-heart with his son, explain everything that’s going on– But would Toji really think of that right away?

“Change. We’re going out.” It’s an order, and Ryo doesn’t like it. He’s about to ignore Toji but Toji snatches the console that’s in the boy’s hands. “Don’t act like a fucking brat. Change. We’ve taught you better.”

“I’m staying with mom.” Ryo mutters, angrily getting out of bed to do as his father says. Toji won’t lie and say that the words don’t hurt him, but he remains stoic. 

“Hurry up. Your siblings are waiting.” Toji says before leaving the room, the console in his hand. He has to hide it before leaving.

“No more.” Emi pushes her plate away after taking a few bites of the food she ordered. She’s barely eaten, Toji wants to make sure that at the very least she finishes a chicken tender. 

“Can you at least finish this, please? You’ve barely eaten, princess.” Toji asks her, but she shakes her head. Toji has to find a way to bribe her, but first he has to deal with Megumi and Aimi who bicker about… Something.

“Chew with your mouth closed, don’t be gross.” Megumi corrects her, but Aimi isn’t going to listen to someone who isn’t her mother… Occasionally she listens to Toji, but it’s rare.

“I don’t care!” She yells, and Toji’s face slowly gets red with embarrassment. People are slowly looking at the table– It’s funny because he really thought that having Megumi here would be useful. Instead, he’s yelling back and forth with his five-year-old sister.

“You’re nasty, Aimi!”

“Your face is nasty!”

“Will you two quiet down?!” Toji half yells. His eyes linger on Megumi, “Remind me how old you are.”

“Sixteen.” Megumi answers, reality setting in when he says his age. His cheeks slowly turn pink as he waits for his father to say his next sentence.

“And you’re arguing with a five-year-old? Loudly, in a restaurant, dare I add.” Toji says, and Megumi pushes his plate away because he’s suddenly lost his appetite. Toji hadn’t realized just how hard it was to deal with all four kids without any help– Well, three kids since Ryo isn’t talking. He’s not doing anything. Toji clears his throat before asking, “Do you like the food, Ryo?”

Ryo doesn’t answer, and it’s slowly driving Toji to his limit. He’s talking to everybody but Toji, the moment Toji addresses him, he goes silent. Toji looks at Megumi and points at Emi, “Get your sister to eat.”

“Ryo, talk to me. Your mom and I are fine.” Toji claims, but Ryo doesn’t say anything because things clearly aren’t fine– After all, everyone is talking about it. Toji is essentially ruining the family by running off with his co-star.

“Ryo, do you want my leftovers?” Aimi asks her big brother and he hums in response, taking the plate from her. Toji takes a deep breath to remain calm. Ryo technically didn’t even say a word, he just hummed in response, Toji can’t be mad about that. Then Aimi asks, “Do you think daddy will get dessert? I think they have ice cream.”

“The key lime pie is better, plus we have ice cream at home.” Ryo argues and Toji gets an idea on how to get his son to talk to him.

“Do you really want the key lime pie? I thought you liked cheesecake better.” Toji comments, and Ryo doesn’t answer. He proceeds to talk to his little sister, and Toji can’t take it. He slams his hand on the table and causes a scene, “For fuck’s sake, Ryo! Don’t ignore me!”

If all eyes weren’t on them before, they definitely are now. The cherry on top is Megumi who tells Emi, “See, he’s going to do that to you if you don’t finish what’s on your plate.”

Emi begins to cry her little heart out, and Toji lets out the biggest sigh. Curse the day he decided to have kids.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Emi.” Toji says, but she’s crying and stuffing her face out of fear. Everyone is looking at him, some people surely recognize him. At least this fits the narrative that his family is falling apart, and while it was all a stunt at first, it’s starting to feel real.

It’s his fault, he can’t blame anyone else but himself.

“Finish up, we’re going home.” Toji sounds defeated, and he is. Taking the kids out to dinner should not be this hard. 

“What about dessert?” Aimi’s voice is filled with disappointment.

“Dessert isn’t happening because you kids don’t know how to behave.” Toji answers, and Aimi crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. Toji wanted to make things better with his kids, but unknowingly, he’s made them worse.

“Night, night, princess.” Toji kisses Aimi’s forehead, but she doesn’t care to even acknowledge him. She doesn’t say anything, turning to her side so she doesn’t have to look at him. Toji sighs, “You’re ignoring me too, huh?”

She doesn’t say anything, which doesn’t really upset Toji. She’s just mad that she didn’t get dessert, tomorrow she’ll be fine with him again. He kisses her temple before telling her, “I love you.”

He knows waiting for an answer is useless, so he turns off the lamp and walks out of the door. Aimi will eventually get out of bed and run after him to apologize because she feels bad since she loves her daddy so much. 

Toji closes the door, and he looks for Ryo’s console. Once the console is in his hand, Toji goes to his son’s room. Toji doesn’t bother knocking because he knows he won’t get a response. Ryo has the lights turned off, trying to sleep since there’s nothing better for him to do. But Toji knows that the child isn’t sleeping, he’s just like you, he tosses and turns a million times in the night before actually succumbing to slumber.

“Here’s the console, kiddo. Thanks for going out with us tonight.” Toji says, putting the console on Ryo’s dresser before walking over to his side to press a kiss on Ryo’s temple. Toji hears some sniffling coming from his son, which makes the man want to fall to his knees and cry as well. 

Toji has four kids, he’s heard them cry many times before for trivial things. He’s never really felt this before with one of them because he really wasn’t at fault. He was doing things for their own good… But this time he’s doing all of this for his own selfish reasons. 

“My baby boy, please talk to me.” Toji kneels down by the bed, hoping that his son will finally say something to him. It’s killing him slowly, he just wants to talk to him. Toji doesn’t want his kid to hate him, but it feels like Ryo is slowly getting there.

“I don’t want you and mommy to get a divorce.” Ryo finally speaks up, and Toji’s heart breaks when he hears him call you mommy, considering Ryo started calling you mom the day he turned eight. Toji stops kneeling, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Everything is fine between me and your mommy.” Toji says although it’s hard to believe. They’re not fine, but you’re not getting a divorce either. “We just have to talk things out, but we’re not getting a divorce.”

“All of my friends are talking about you and how you two will end up splitting.” Ryo finally sits up on the bed, and Toji doesn’t really understand why this is even a topic of conversation for Ryo’s friends, but it is and Toji has to deal with it. “And it’s your fault.”

It is, Toji can’t really say otherwise. But he isn’t splitting up the family– At least not by having an affair like the news claim.

“Ryo, I promise you that your mom and I are not splitting up.” Toji tries to reassure his son, but Toji isn’t all too sure himself. “We are having some issues, but it’s not because of what your friends are telling you. What they’re telling you is not real.”

“But–” He’s about to keep going but Toji has to cut him off. Toji can’t keep defending himself, he keeps using the same argument over and over again and he doesn’t know how many times he can actually say the same words.

“Did you ask your mommy about this?” Toji asks, and his son nods in response. Ryo has asked a million times and you always have the same answer. 

“Yeah… She said that you two were okay.” He replies, yet he doesn’t believe a single word of it. Toji is growing frustrated, but he can’t let it show. His whole job is to pretend to be someone else, to act out certain feelings and suppress the actual emotions that run through his body, he should be able to do that, right?

“Then why don’t you believe us? Your friends don’t know what’s happening in our relationship.” Toji points out, but that’s not enough for Ryo.

“I know mommy was lying.” 

“What do you mean? Did she tell you she was lying?” Toji’s confused. Ryo is ten, he’s not smart enough to spot a lie, especially from you. You’re a damn good actress, when you show your emotions it’s on purpose, and Toji doubts you were purposely showing your emotions.

“I was going to ask her something and I saw her crying…” Ryo confesses, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He’s certainly hasn’t heard that, but Toji clears his throat before arguing,

“You do know that your mom has a completely different life and she could’ve been crying for something that doesn’t involve me, right?” Toji is sure that the crying had to do with him, but he isn’t going to let that be known. Ryo nods in response, since what his father says does make sense. Toji ruffles his son’s hair before kissing his forehead, “Next time you’re mad at me, don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“I won’t.” Ryo answers, although neither of them are too sure that he’ll keep up with his word. Toji stands up and gives the gaming console to his son, and Ryo wastes no time in taking it. 

“You can stay up late tonight.” Toji tells him, which puts a smile on his face. Toji also walks away with a smile on his lips, feeling victorious after getting his son to talk to him. Toji exits the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

Toji begins his walk to Megumi’s room, planning to check up on him. However, when his hand touches the doorknob, he feels a pair of tiny arms wrap around his leg. He looks down to find his five-year-old hugging him. He chuckles, “What’s up, Aimi?”

“Papa, I’m sorry. I love you too.” Tears are streaming down her face, feeling guilty about not telling her daddy that she loves him back. Toji picks her up from the ground, wiping her tears away and kissing her cheek.

“My little princess, I’ll get you some ice cream tomorrow.” He assures her, rubbing her back. She continues to wipe her tears because once they begin, they’re hard to stop. He takes her back to her room, reads her a story and puts her to bed once again. 

Toji continues what he was doing, checking up on his kids before going to bed himself. He waits for you, but it gets late. His eyes are closing on their own and before he knows it, he falls asleep. He’s getting old.

“Toji, baby–” You’re calling out to him. It takes a moment for him to open his eyes, but they open rapidly when he feels you kissing his cheeks. It’s definitely nice to feel you kissing him after barely acknowledging him the last couple of days. Still, he can’t help but question,

“Are you drunk?” You keep kissing him. He doesn’t smell any alcohol on your breath, but that doesn’t really answer anything. He feels your hand go down his torso to his sweatpants. You’re just incredibly horny, that’s a good enough reason. Your hand goes to his sweatpants, wrapping around the base of his cock before lazily stroking it. “What happened to you? What have you done to my wife?”

“I just need you. Need you so bad.” You say in between kisses. Your lips are on his neck, and Toji really can’t complain. He misses your touch so much– But what the hell happened to you? You were barely talking to him a couple of hours ago; either you’re on something or something happened to you.

“What happened, baby?” He stops you. Your hand comes out of his hands and you get on top of him. Your lips go on his, your tongue quickly entering his mouth and pressing against his. You’re avoiding the answer, and Toji grows worried. You’re grinding on him, and it’s hard for him to have a clear mind when all the blood rushes to his dick. He doesn’t remember the last time he touched you. You’ve been so mad at him that you shut him down the moment that he initiates something.

Toji wants to enjoy it, and his body is but his mind thinks about the fact that nothing has been solved. He’s not done anything to apologize to you, so he immediately thinks that you’ve done something. It takes every bit of him to push you away even though he doesn’t want to. You’re so gorgeous while you’re on top of him like this, that he doesn’t want to ask the question but he has to, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do?” You furrow your brows, and Toji clicks his tongue. He can’t believe that you’re initiating something and he’s stopping it. One week ago he would’ve been beating himself up for passing up on this opportunity, but he has to know why you changed your mind. 

“You’ve been mad at me, and now you’re all over me when I haven’t apologized.” Toji points out, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. That confirms that you’ve done something bad, and his heart beat speeds up, thinking of the worst.

“I met a guy…” You begin and Toji’s heart breaks. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of it because he knows. Tears well up in his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. Yeah, he knew his actions would have consequences but not this. “We flirted a bit, just having fun and then he invited me back to his place–”

“You don’t have to–” Toji is about to cut you off, and he’s reasonably thinking the worst.

“I didn’t go back with him. I remembered the amazing husband I have, how much I love him, how amazing he is at everything he does. I wasn’t going to risk losing you even though I’m mad at you.” You have to interrupt him before he gets into his head. You press a subtle kiss on his jaw before your lips go to his ear, “But if you see some headlines tomorrow, don’t get mad at me.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” He chuckles. He guesses he’s getting a taste of his own medicine, but he’s not mad after his initial scare. Your lips go back on his, but they don’t last long before moving down his neck and torso. Your mouth kisses to his nipple, your tongue circling around it which makes him bite down his lip. 

Toji is sensitive. Just about anything will make him cum. You continue to kiss down his body until his sweatpants obstruct your path. You desperately push them down, while Toji reaches for the lamp to turn it on. He has a particular love for watching you while you take care of him.

Your hand wraps around the base while you spit on his cock. You stroke his cock a couple of times before your tongue circles the tip of his cock. You take your time working him up before you lower your mouth on his cock, taking in as much as you can take.

If Toji had known that this is how his night would’ve ended by letting you go out, he wouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. A pathetic moan leaves his lips, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around him. He’s missed this, fuck. 

He wants to push your head down, forcing you to take all of him– Which he normally does, but it’s not going to end well. Toji knows well that you’ll stop, and he won’t risk that tonight. This is a sweet treat that he doesn’t deserve, he’s not going to risk losing it. 

You try to take all of him in your mouth either way, tears building up in your eyes as you gag, eventually spilling and messing up the makeup that was already coming apart. This is what Toji loves, watching the makeup that you work so hard on, fall apart just for him. And you do it because you want to. Because you love the taste of him on your tongue.

You take him out of your mouth, using your hand to stroke his cock. Toji’s moaning with your every touch, it’s hard not to. You’re just so fucking perfect with everything you do that it’s hard for him to contain himself.

“Baby, please–” He sounds so pathetic. Toji is usually much meaner in this situation, but circumstances have obviously changed. He just wants to feel your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Use your mouth, baby. Please–”

“How can I say no to you?” You chuckle before your mouth wraps around his cock again. You take as much as you can take, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. He’s shutting his eyes, moaning your name as his climax approaches. 

His cum hits the back of your throat, and you raise your head. You swallow it, sticking your tongue out so he can check it. Toji sits up, his hand going down to your chin, thumb into your mouth. The bit of submissiveness that you had witnessed quickly fades. 

“Who’s my good girl?” He asks, your tongue circling around his thumb. He wants to know what happened that has you so aroused, but as long as you didn’t get physical, he doesn’t care. He takes his thumb out, a string of your saliva connecting it to your lips. He orders, “Open your mouth.”

As soon as your mouth opens, he spits in it. You don’t waste a second before swallowing. Toji lips meet yours again, his tongue messily entering your mouth and pressing against yours. You readjust your legs, knees on either side of him. You’re grinding on him again, and the man pulls away from the kiss, not doing so without biting your lip first. 

“You want me to fuck you, baby? You need me?” He asks as you push your panties to the side. You’re aligning him with your entrance, softly moaning as you push yourself down on him. You can’t wait any longer, you desperately need him. You softly moan as he fills you up, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. You’re sure no one will ever feel as good as Toji.

“Was thinking so much about you, baby. I missed you, Toji.” You moan, throwing your head back. You give yourself a moment to get adjusted to him before moving back and forth on his cock. His cock brushes your sweet spot, driving you insane. 

Toji shuts his eyes, getting lost in the moment. He’s missed you so much too, but he can’t speak right now because he’s groaning. He can’t believe that he’s gone so long without you… He shouldn’t have agreed to doing that publicity stunt in the first place. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” Toji moans, his hands going to your hips as you move on him. He hands roam, looking for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down so he can take your dress off you. His lips go to yours, your moans translating into his lips. 

You’re bouncing on him, his lips going down to suck on your neck. You let your moans roam into the air, feeling overwhelmed with how good you’re feeling. Toji barely even tries and he makes you feel euphoric. Maybe you were having second thoughts, but then you remembered just how perfect your husband is.

Toji pulls out, putting you down on the bed. He puts your legs on his shoulders before sliding back into you. He sets the pace, much faster than how you were going. Your hands are gripping the bed sheets, loudly moaning as your husband pounds into you.

“You’re so perfect, baby. You’re everything to me.” He praises you while one hand goes to play with your clit. You’re almost at your limit, and he feels it as your cunt squeezes around him. He says through gritted teeth, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Oh fuck, Toji– I’m gonna–” You announce, so close to reaching your peak. 

“I know, baby– fuck, I know.” He groans. You’re driving him insane, it’s the effect that you have on him after not being with him for a while. God knows he needed this.

You loudly moan his name, your legs quivering when you reach your high. It’s hard for you to last when his cock reaches deep, and reaches all the right spots. Toji can’t help but praise you when you come, “That’s my good girl, that’s my fucking good girl.”

Toji’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, even though he wants to stay buried inside you for as long as he can. His hands hold on to your hips, nails digging into your soft flesh. 

“Inside of me, baby, do it inside me.” You tell him, knowing he’s nearing his release. You need to feel his warmth in every possible way, and Toji isn’t going to turn you down, certainly not with this. 

Toji comes to a stop, groaning before filling you up with his warm cum. He stays buried inside of you until making sure every droop is inside of you. His lips go down to yours, kissing you as he pulls out. 

“I’ve missed you, love.” He says before you both get comfortable in bed. You’ll wait a minute before going to the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

“For the record, I’m still mad at you.” You say before kissing his cheek, causing him to laugh. You stand up, walking to the bathroom to take a shower before going to bed, and he follows behind because he’s truly lost without you. 

“You’re here late.” He points out, unsure of what to say next.

“When you don’t have the kids with you, things go surprisingly smooth… Speaking of, how was your night?” You get in the shower, and Toji is staring. He’s watching every single one of your movements, even when he tries to tear his eyes away, he can’t. You're just so perfect in every way, how can he look away?

“Why did we have so many kids? They made the night so difficult.” Toji shares, and he hears you laugh. It’s no surprise to you, you’ve handled the kids on your own so many times before, and you always swear that you won’t even think of having another one– But then Emi comes to you with her teddy bear and begs for cuddles which makes you reconsider.

“Welcome to my world.” You respond, and Toji chuckles. He lightly bites down his lip, debating if he wants to go back to bed. He really doesn’t, so he decides to join you in your shower.

“So you’re less mad?” He asks, grabbing your sponge and pouring some body wash on it. Toji kisses your shoulder before he begins lightly scrubbing your body. You hum in response, and he can only wonder what you were up to– But he can’t complain. He couldn’t care less what you were doing as long as you’re not mad at him.

“I’m still upset though, don’t get me wrong.” You say as you take the sponge from his hand and use it on him. You peck his lips before muttering, “My husband has still been misbehaving, I won’t forgive him so easily.”

Toji doesn’t know how to come back from that so easily, so he ponders his answer. He helps you clean up.

“I talked to Ryo.” Toji announces, and you cock your eyebrow. Before you can ask about the details, Toji explains everything to you, ending off his sentence with, “Why were you crying?”

“Life gets tough when your husband is allegedly cheating on you.” You answer, and Toji bites his tongue. You have said a million times how you hate this arrangement, and Toji has been too selfish to consider your emotions. It’s not like you’ve been silent about how much you hate this. He can’t exactly be too mad at the fact that you’ve been ignoring him when it’s deserved. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Is all he manages to say. You turn off the water, and get out of the shower, Toji following your lead again, even though he’s barely washed himself. You have your towel wrapped around him, while he opts out of getting his towel.

“I think you’ll need a bigger apology, but I guess sex is good too.” You answer, but that’s not enough for him.

“I’ll call my agent and tell him that it’s off.” He says, and you stop in your tracks.

“No! You’ve already done this much, the premiere is soon. Stick with it for now and just clear up your name after.” You’re quick to object. That movie better do great after all you’ve been through for this. You’ve suffered for months, you can put up with some more judgment for another month or so.

“But now I feel horrible.” He responds, and you sigh. “I want to apologize.”

You take a couple of steps toward him, your hands meeting behind his neck. You kiss his lips before telling him, “Another little Emi will suffice.”

“Woman, how dare you?! After the night I’ve had, that thought makes my dick flaccid. Don’t you ever suggest having more kids!” He argues, and you look down. His words certainly don’t match his feelings.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask him, and he sighs. He isn’t going to lie to you, and he isn’t going to tell you that you’re right, so he does the next best thing, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You have a long night of apologies ahead of you.

[kaciidubs]

Are You Still Watching?

✧ Summary: It was meant to be a sweet gesture to treat you to a surprise at-home date - what a shame that the pajamas that were supposed to be covering your bodies were now on the floor. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.8k ✧ Warnings: Smut, fluff, light humor, slight Dom/Sub dynamics, daddy kink, spitroasting, slight choking ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Good Girl, Baby, Pup, Slut, Seungmin is referred to as Minnie, Chris is referred to as Daddy, Baby ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

You’d appreciated the effort they put in on the surprise date night; the living room decorated with small tea light candles as the coffee table held an array of your combined favorite snacks. They’d even treated you to your favorite restaurant for take out - and by they, you really meant Chris, seeing as he would rather be struck by lightning than have you or Seungmin pay for anything (though, recently, he has been getting better at letting you both exercise your independence).

However, your favorite detail of the whole night was the way they basically transformed the couch into a sea of blankets and pillows - Seungmin making sure to include your favorite fluffy blanket to be shared between the three of you - which only made it more shameful to note that it was currently crumpled on the floor with pajamas that should’ve been covering your bodies.

“C’mon, you can take more than that, can’t you?”

You made a sound of indigence, eyebrows pinching as the pressure on the back of your head increased just a bit.

“Minnie, don’t - ah, fuck - don’t force her, give her a second.”

As usual, Chris’s caring tone added a lighter caress to Seungmin’s bite, though those sweet words could only do so much as his hips twitched up, unintentionally pushing more of his length past your lips.

Seungmin scoffed, a humored, lighthearted sound as his eyes narrowed, “You do realize, she’s the one who told me I could do this, right? She likes it, you know she does - don’t act like you don’t like it either, hyung.”

Punctuating his point, he pressed further against the back of your head and you dropped your jaw to allow Chris’s cock to slide along your tongue and prod at the back of your throat, before letting his grip pull you back up for a little reprieve.

“Bub wants to be used like a little slut - are you going to deny her that?”

You keened at his words, flicking your tongue around the head of Chris’s cock for further coaxing - you were okay with it, more than okay, and seeing your enthusiasm served to whittle him down more.

“G-Gonna be a good girl f’me and take it?”

Your head shifted slightly, a nod, as much as you could give with Seungmin’s hold on you remaining firm and secure.

That was all he needed to see as he spread his legs just a bit more, planting his feet before thrusting his hips up; his dick easily finding its way down your throat from the way Seungmin kept your head at the perfect level.

The living room soon filled with the sounds of your choked moans, wet slurps, and breathless groans as Chris fucked your mouth with ease; one arm laid along the back of the couch while the other braced against the cushions to aid in the leverage he needed.

“God, fuck, look at you,” he hissed, cocking his head in order to catch the way your cheek puffed up and hollowed out with each stroke, the shine of saliva bubbling at the corner of your lips sending his mind into a frenzy. “Pretty little thing letting daddy use your mouth like this - wouldn’t have it any other way, hm?”

Replying in kind, you dipped your head lower, working past the resulting gag on the following thrust with nothing but pure determination and need.

“Fuck.” Both men spoke in unison, a sound filled with equal parts desperation and fascination.

The sloppy sounds of Chris’s cock leaving and entering your mouth bounced off the walls of the living room more frequently, his pace growing faster as he began to chase the hints of his impending orgasm.

“‘M gonna come soon,” he gasped out, lidded eyes trained on the way your head rocked and bobbed, but stayed relatively in the same position Seungmin held you in, “be good and swallow it all, okay, baby? J-Just a little longer- shit.”

You tightened your lips around his girth, determined to hold everything he gave you, and like clockwork his dick twitched against your tongue followed by the bitterness of his seed filling your mouth.

He came with staggered breaths, his stomach heaving with each wave that coursed through him until his body fell lax against the couch.

The grip on the back of your head vanished, though another presence made itself known underneath your chin, slowly pulling you away from the softening cock between your lips - Chris hissing from the determined suction you kept to take the remnants of his orgasm with you.

Turning your head towards him, your eyes met his lust fogged ones, pupils blown and a considerable glow emanating from his body.

“Show daddy.”

He watched as the muscles in your throat subtly shifted before you parted your lips, tongue lolling out to show the inside of your mouth void of his cum.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against your tongue.

Your lips eagerly wrapped around the digit, holding his strong gaze as you sucked on it daringly - priding yourself on the way his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing at your boldness.

However, your little show was cut short as you felt a pair of hands dragging you back by your hips, blindly following the lead as your legs were guided up and over the arm of the couch, planting your feet firmly on the hardwood while your hips rested against the cushioned arm.

“Alright, alright, I’m here too.” Seungmin mumbled, though his cadence expressed a playful annoyance than anything else as he ran his hands along the curve of your ass, “Channie hyung shouldn’t have all the fun - this was my idea.”

There wasn’t enough time to counteract with a statement of your own as you felt the blunt tip of his cock nudge against your pussy, sliding through your arousal with a gentle rock of his hips.

“Seungmin, please.”

He gave a light huff, but you could practically see the amused smirk undoubtedly on his lips, “So needy, pup.”

However, you could argue that he was needier as he gripped your hip tighter, his other hand supporting the base of his dick as he began to slowly push past your walls - a hiss of satisfaction falling from his lips in the process.

Your head fell forward, a low moan floating through your parted lips; though, it didn’t last long as a finger hooked underneath your chin and gently lifted your head back up.

“Feels good, doesn’t he, baby?”

Lust fogged eyes locked with darkened ones, a familiar hunger lingering in his irises that had your pussy clenching as a result.

You felt yourself getting lost in his hypnotizing stare, sinking deeper and deeper into the pool of desire until a thrust jolted you forward - breaking you from your reverie with a choked out moan.

Then came another, then another, then another, until you were steadily rocking against the arm of the couch as Seungmin fucked you as he pleased; hard and thorough with a hand gripping your hip while the other remained steady at the back of your neck.

“Jesus, she’s so wet,” he groaned, lidded eyes locked on the curve of your ass, “bet she’s been turned on since we started this whole ‘date’.”

“Yeah? You think so?” A low chuckle left Chris as he took in your lust fogged expression, “She’s probably been waiting for one of us to put our hands on her ever since we got to the couch, spoiled little thing.”

A slap rang through the air, your yelp of pain melting into a needy whine while Seungmin’s hand massaged the cheek of your ass.

“Needy little slut,” squeezing the flesh, he hummed, “it’s cute, though - probably means we’re doing something right.”

Your breath caught at their words, an addictive mix of embarrassment and arousal flowing through your veins like molten lava - stomach twisting and walls clenching that only served to intensify Seungmin’s precise thrusts.

“Oh, she liked that.” His hand slid around your hip and between your legs, a deft finger easily finding purchase on your neglected clit, “Did you like it enough to come for me, pup? I can feel you clenching, I know you’re close - come for me.”

A larger hand made its presence known around your neck with a firm grasp, not enough to cut off your airflow, yet still present enough to have your eyelids fluttering and lips parting in a small ‘o’.

“Go ahead,” Chris cooed in a velvety tone, gently squeezing his fingers against the column of your neck, “come for Minnie, baby - come so he can fill you up just how you like, yeah?”

The mere thought of his orgasm had yours slamming into you faster than you could comprehend - your legs nearly buckling as you gripped the couch cushion, while a staccato of moans floated past your lips.

“Seung- Baby- A-Ah- Fuck!”

Seungmin mirrored your curse with one of his own, forced through gritted teeth as his finger continued to slide against your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as he could until his body tensed - grunting out a small “‘M c-coming-” before pressing his hips flush to yours.

Chris’s hand slowly left your neck, granting you the ability to let it fall forward and relieve some tension off your shoulders; the sound of heavy footsteps walking out of the living room keying you into what he set off to do next.

A pair of lips pressed to your shoulder blade, followed by another kiss to the junction near the base of your neck, leading you to let out a soft giggle.

“I’m okay, Minnie.”

“Even after what I said…?”

His voice was right next to your ear, soft and a tad meek - you couldn’t help but nudge the side of his head with your own, “Baby, you calling me a slut barely breaks the surface of what I can get Channie to call me if I push hard enough - I’m perfectly fine with being your ‘needy slut’ if that’s what you need in the moment.”

He made a sound that could only be described as bashful embarrassment, choosing to respond by leaning forward to peck your cheek before pulling away at the sound of footsteps once more.

After a quick - gentle and careful - wipe down with a washcloth provided by Chris, a few bathroom trips, and a refresh on snacks, the three of you settled back onto the couch like before - sans pajamas.

“So,” Chris hummed, rotating the remote in his hand, “are we still watching this, or…?”

You held back your laugh as best you could with Seungmin laid on top of you, eyes already closed and determined to stay that way. “Keep it on as background noise?”

Nodding, he selected ‘keep watching’ before tossing the remote to the coffee table and tugging you closer against his side.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet, @bethanysnow

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[anashins]

First Valentines without Jaehyun 💔

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance, suggestive

Word Count: 1,7k

Summary: A flower bouquet delivered to you at your new workplace sends your co-workers into a spiral: Does your oh-so-perfect boyfriend truly exist?

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day and Happy Jaehyun Day! 💖

“Do you like the flowers I sent you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do you sound so sad?”

You stared at the colorful arrangement you had put in a vase and that was now resting on your table in its full glory of blossomed petals. 

Yellow, orange, pink, white - Jaehyun had ordered the shop to compose all your favorite flowers into one huge bouquet, decorated with transparent wrapping papers and ribbons of the same color scheme. It was nothing short of glamorous and attentive. As expected of your boyfriend.

You let out a long sigh that Jaehyun could definitely hear on the other side of the phone. “When I received the bouquet at work today… I was so happy. Nobody else received something like this, ever. But later that day, when I walked past the restrooms, I heard the girl from the marketing department talking about it.”

“Not that girl again…”

“Yes. She said since I never bring my boyfriend to any work related event and now a mysterious bouquet had popped up out of nowhere, I was surely only pretending and sending it to myself for attention since I’m still a newbie. And who receives flowers on the day before Valentine’s Day anyway, she claimed. Girls are the ones supposed to give out chocolate.”

“Well… did you barge into the restroom and tell her your very well existent boyfriend is currently in the military and was worried the bouquet wouldn’t arrive on time, so he sent it earlier just in case? And that not a single Valentine’s Day has ever passed by without my girlfriend receiving a gift as well?”

“No.” But then a smile flashed across your lips. “I barged into the restroom and told her if she put as much effort in finding a boyfriend as she is putting in sticking her nose into other people’s business, she wouldn’t have to worry this much about a newbie’s private life.”

You heard Jaehyun burst into laughter, and it was contagious for you too. “That’s my girl.”

A silence followed that lighthearted moment which weighed down heavy on your heart again. “I miss you. And not only because of tomorrow when I need to see couples everywhere I go. But every day, I miss you.”

Ever since Jaehyun went to the military, you have been feeling so lonely. The first month was the hardest when his phone time was restricted to one hour per day only. After the boot camp, it had gotten a bit better with regular calls by the end of a day, but you had only been able to see each other once for one day ever since his enlistment. 

You were planning to visit him at his base as this was the only way to at least see him regularly, but the way there was long and exhausting, so realizing it on a regular basis was also not ideal, minding the fact that you would barely have any privacy as well. And there hadn’t been an event when you could have watched his band in public yet. 

When you could see each other for a bit longer? You didn’t know. His application for a holiday was still not through, and you slowly grew impatient. It was pure torture.

“I miss you too,” Jaehyun reassured gently. “But don’t worry, in the blink of an eye, we can see each other again.”

You groaned. “You make it sound like nothing, but it’s actually a lot.”

“I’m sorry there is nothing more that I can do.”

Guilt washed over you for making him feel responsible for something he didn’t have any influence on, and on top of that, it was not only Valentine’s Day, but Jaehyun’s birthday too. He probably didn’t feel much different from you, having to celebrate his special day at the base when it didn’t even fall on the one day a week he was off from duties.

So you quickly added, “Maybe, I will visit your family tomorrow after work, so we will celebrate your birthday together and eat your favorite cake, and you can only watch us doing so through a call.”

“Ah, this is torture. Do you know what I eat here daily? Cake sounds heavenly.”

“Then make sure to visit us quickly, so I can prepare every cake for you that you want.”

“Deal.”

____

It was still morning and you had only sat down at your desk for work when the receptionist approached you, right after the marketing girl had settled at the other side of the office as well. 

Today was Valentine’s Day and Jaehyun’s birthday, so you felt extra gloomy, but you wanted to make sure it wouldn’t interfere with your work. You would pay his family a visit in the evening to have a little celebration with Jaehyun through a phone or video call as promised before. As this wouldn’t remain a permanent situation, you would make the best of it and give him a good celebration despite the circumstances.

“Good morning,” the receptionist greeted you and winked. “There is something waiting for you outside at the reception.”

“Oh okay, I’ll come right out!” You stood up and wondered what it could be since the mail for this day wasn’t due to be delivered yet and Jaehyun had already sent over his gift yesterday. Could it be another gift, possibly from a friend or family member?

“Two times in a row. Now, isn’t this a bit too much?”

The marketing girl couldn’t suppress her snarky comment when you passed by her. You really tried to keep quiet, but your gloominess needed some kind of outlet, she was practically asking for a counter. 

“You know…” You turned to her. “If you were a bit of a nicer person, especially towards near strangers, maybe you would also have people appreciate your existence in the form of gifts or nice words. Maybe try again.”

You stomped away, her rude remark having vanished from your mind in an instant as your thoughts were occupied with the question of what could be sent to you on this special day again as you ruled out another gift from Jaehyun.

Well, as you arrived at the reception, you were definitely assured of the fact that what was awaiting you was not a gift from Jaehyun.

Rather, it was Jaehyun himself.

Standing in your company’s lobby in his full military attire, he was holding another bouquet of flowers in his hands, probably even more luscious than the previous one. A wide smile spread across his face the moment he turned around to you.

“You’re crazy!” you called out as you slowly approached him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he greeted you back as he handed the flowers over to you. 

You were having a hard time keeping your composure and not jumping directly at Jaehyun out of pure happiness over your reunion. 

This was still your workplace and the public, so you had to act accordingly and thus professionally. But a look into Jaehyun’s eyes, whose overjoyed gaze disappeared just for the break of a second and made way for a flash of desire dancing across his face before his gentle features returned, confirmed that he was feeling the same way as you.

You both needed to get out of here. Right now.

“So…” You started and took the flowers into your hands. “How much time do you have?”

“I only got today off and I have to be back at the base by 6pm. I already talked to your boss, you’re free to leave for today too.”

“Hmmm, for how long have you had this planned actually?” You shifted your head to the clock in the lobby. It was 8.05am. “I’ll go grab my stuff and then let’s head out.”

When you approached your office’s door, you couldn’t help but notice that a few people had gathered by the spot, and among them, though she was quick to leave upon your return, was the marketing girl. You snickered inwardly. 

You said goodbye to your co-workers on your way out who couldn’t keep down teasing remarks that you quickly waved off with an embarrassed grin, and left the building together with Jaehyun.

Outside, snow was falling and the wind was ice cold, but you felt warm inside. Almost hot even. 

“You gave me flowers again, even though I am the one who’s supposed to give you chocolate and gifts today,” you said with a pout, feeling guilty that you were empty-handed. How could you have known after all? 

Jaehyun stood in front of you, smiling and seemingly unbothered by the circumstances. “I come home only so rarely, the least I can do is spoil my girl whenever I get the chance.”

It had been months since you had last seen him, and he had visibly changed now that you carefully examined him fully in person. His hair had remained rather short from what you could make out under the beret, but his muscles had grown, you couldn’t help but notice even under his jacket. 

You wanted to admire him in his uniform a bit longer all while simultaneously longing to feel with your own bare hands how much his body had changed after months of training, and what he could do to you now with all the strength he had gained. 

You gulped. One day only might not be enough after all.

“It’s not only my special day, but ours too, remember that. So we can do everything you like,” Jaehyun declared.

You said, “I like the thought that I will have you all to myself today. So I can spoil you rotten too, even without chocolate.” 

The right corner of Jaehyun’s lips tilted up to a smile that was not radiating happiness as the rest of his muscles were stilling. It made him look almost sinister, even though his soft features and dimples might fool outsiders. But not you. You were very familiar with that smile of his. 

He bent down to you and whispered, “And what do you want to do first to spoil me, hm?”

You reached for his hand and before you answered, you dragged him along the streets so that he couldn’t spot your flushed cheeks. “We’re going to a hotel.”

Jaehyun willingly complied with a low laugh and the words, “Now, I should come home more often.”

[unoislazy]

Hello ! Sorry for my bad English, it's not my first language I do my best

First of all, I love how you write <3

Second, my request would be Hiccup getting jealous and confessing to fem!reader by accident

That's all !

Thanks for writing so well, I send you a little kiss

Hello!

Congrats you’re my first request!

I hope I could do your request justice, enjoy

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k words

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you why.

————————————————————

“You’re getting better at this!” Eret praised, ducking under your fist as you swung at him. He continued to dodge your strikes as you smiled.

You both had begun sparring together a few months ago, after the whole Dragon War fiasco. You realized that without your dragon, you weren’t as strong or as agile as the other Vikings, so you asked Eret to help you train.

You swept your foot under him, finally taking him down and putting your foot on his chest, signifying that you had one the fight.

“Have I gotten better, or have you just gotten worse?” You asked teasingly, taking your foot off of him as he smiled up at you.

You held out your hand to help him up. He obliged, taking it as he stood up once again, wiping off his clothes from that dust that truly didn’t even seem to be there.

“You’ve certainly made improvements since day one. I can tell you that.” He said, stretching a bit. “You could definitely do well even without your dragon, if you’d ever need to.” He continued, looking back at both of your dragons who were simply chilling off to the side, as they often did when you two fought.

“Hopefully there never comes a time.” You said in a lighthearted tone, but you truly hoped there would never be a time where you’d have to fair without your dragon.

“I second that. It’s funny, I never thought I’d ever change my ways when it came to dragons. Yet here I am, looking after this beast.” Eret joked, patting Skull Crushers head lightly causing the dragon to groan and slightly shake its head in response.

“Well I’m glad you had it in you to change, who knows maybe I would’ve taken you down myself.” You gloated sarcastically, walking towards the pair as Eret smiled back at you, acknowledging your joke.

“Yeah you wouldn’t have made it even close.” He let out a chuckle as he watched your teasing smirk turn to a pout. You knew his teasing was all in good fun but realistically if it had come to it you would’ve taken him out if you needed to.

“Just cause I’ve gotten better doesn’t mean I wasn’t skilled to begin with.” You reminded.

“Fair. Now how about best two out of three?” Eret asked, getting into a fighting stance which you very quickly mimicked. Just as you both were about to start fighting you had heard a very familiar growl come from above. Your head shot up towards the noise and you spotted none other than Hiccup Haddock, the chief of Berk, flying above you.

“Guess not.” You joked, no longer standing in a ready position as you turned to face the aforementioned chief who had landed not too far away from the both of you. Hiccup hopped off of Toothless with ease, slipping his helmet off in the process, and walked over to the two of you with Toothless close behind.

“Morning you two.” Hiccup greated, earning a nod of acknowledgement from the both of you. “What are you guys doing all the way out here?” He asked but you noticed it wasn’t in the sense of his usual curiosity. There was an underlying tone that you could quite put your finger on so you figured you were just simply thinking too much into it.

You hadn’t really thought about it but you suppose you and Eret were more or less in the middle of nowhere in the woods. It was the most quiet place the two of you could find to practice in peace without going to the Arena.

“Eret and I have been sparring, I figured I should eventually learn how, considering most of my strength comes from them.” You said, gesturing to your dragon who was sleeping peacefully only to be startled awake by Toothless patting them on the head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, Toothless always reminded you of a cat in a way, you found it adorable.

“Alone?” Hiccup asked, which honestly surprised the both of you. You looked towards hiccup in confusion only to see the shock he had on his own face. Clearly he didn’t mean to let it slip out but it was too late to take it back now.

“Well no… our dragons are here with us?” You stated but you were so confused about the reasoning behind Hiccups question that you couldn’t seem to phrase it as anything other than a question. You all fell silent as Hiccup swayed his arms in an awkward fashion, something he only does when he’s trying to avoid talking about something.

Eret looked between the two of you, realizing he had no part in the conversation he simply cleared his throat.

“I’ll just leave you two be, I have some… things to take care of..” He excused himself, quickly hopping onto Skullcrusher and exiting the awkward situation as quickly as possible. Once Eret had flown away you quickly turned back to Hiccup who was clearly avoiding even looking in your general direction.

“Spill it.” You said bluntly causing Hiccup to finally make eye contact with you. His face held a confused look but you both knew what you were talking about.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Hiccup said, again clearly avoiding the topic as he walked over to Toothless. “Have you seen the new addition I added to Toothless’s tail?” It was clear he was trying to think of anything to change the subject because obviously there was nothing different about Toothless’s tail and you both knew that.

You crossed your arms as you stared at the brunette before you, your face holding an expression that clearly said ‘seriously?’. He dropped Toothless’s tail with a sigh before getting up and walking towards you. Silence quickly swept over the two of you as you continued to wait for Hiccup to say something. You raised an eyebrow at him before he blurted out,

“Have you seen the new scale armor?”, giving one more quick shot to derail the conversation.

“Hiccup.” You said quite sternly. “Spill it.” You repeated, your arms still crossed over your chest as you watched the man nervously fidget. He may be the chief but he still held some of his nervous quirks. Sure he had the ability to look powerful and calm when his people needed their chief, but when he wasn’t the ‘Chief of Berk’ he was just Hiccup.

Just Hiccup.

And you’d be damned if you said you didn’t love him. Ever since you met hiccup you knew he always tried to meet everyone’s expectations only to have a long history of falling short. Hiccup as he was was always overlooked, everyone looked to him to be ‘the Chiefs son’ the ‘next chief of Berk’ and the one he really struggled with, was ‘Stoick’s son’. No one ever truly looked at him as just Hiccup.

Well everyone except you.

You liked him from the very beginning when he was just a scrawny boy obsessed with earning his fathers approval. Did you have the courage to say anything about the way you felt? No of course not, why would you? As much as you loved to see him as ‘Just Hiccup’ you couldn’t deny the fact that he was still pretty far out of your league, especially given his title of ‘The Dragon Master’. What title did you have? Nothing.

Well you had the title of being one of his closest friends so you stuck with that as being enough for you.

“I just don’t think you and Eret should be so far away while training.” He finally spoke up. It was clear he was still keeping something from you but at least he gave you something to work with.

“Why?” You asked, trying to nudge more out of him. He put his hands on his hips. As he began to pace slowly in a circle.

“I don’t know, I just think it would be safer if you-“ Hiccup began only for you to cut him off.

“Hiccup we have two dragons here, one of them being Skull Crusher. I’d say it’s pretty safe to say nothings going to attack us out here.” You argued, now mimicking his pose with your hands on your hips.

“Well still I just don’t like the idea of you guys being alone.” He said, looking up at you. You rolled your eyes in response,

“Hiccup I already said, we’re here with the dragons. We’re not alone.” You stated as if it wasn’t getting through his head. It hadn’t even occurred to you that he was trying to hint at a different concern and you were missing the point entirely.

Your response only caused Hiccup to groan as his hand shot up to his face. He dragged his hands down his face as he turned around, now facing Toothless who simply looked at his friend in utter confusion. The dragon looked from you, then to Hiccup, then back to you. You simply shook your head with a shrug of your shoulders before Toothless walked away, deeming him your problem.

“Hiccup I don't understand why this is such a big issue to you, we used to be in the woods alone all the time together. You didn’t seem to have a problem with it then.” You stated quite bluntly.

“That was different!” He shouted. His face had ever so slightly turned the faintest hint of red, but it was still enough for you to notice. He seemed almost exasperated as you continued to swim around the very vague point that he was failing to get at.

“How was it any different than what me and Eret are doing? If anything it’s safer now because we’re both adults. Granted we did have a Night Fury with us back then…” You began to mumble to yourself, accidentally going off topic. Hiccup sighed, walking up to you and grabbing you by your shoulders. He was stern but still managed to be gentle as he forced you to look at him.

“I can’t control what you do or who you spend your time with, but I just don’t like that you and Eret spend so much time together, so far outside of the village, alone…” Hiccup said, practically laying it all out for you.

“Hiccup?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re not alone.”

Hiccup merely stared at you, eyes wide in shock as he tried to calculate your intelligence in that split second. He practically spelled it out for you and you still weren’t getting it.

What hadn’t occurred to him however, was that you had already caught on, you were just trying to get him to admit it himself. Granted, you had just caught on maybe seconds before, but you still thought it might be fun to mess with him a little. Besides, who were you to make the assumption that the Chief of Berk himself was jealous that you were spending time with another man. It could be considered a reach… Unless he just said it himself.

“Why don’t you want me to be alone with him so badly?” You asked, figuring you should try and at least break the loop that you two seemed to be stuck in.

“Because…” Hiccup began, trying to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say. You waited patiently, just looking at him and occasionally switching your gaze over to the dragons who were chasing each other around.

“Because?” You repeated, waiting for his response. His green eyes staring back into yours. They looked almost as if they were trembling as they bounced between the features on your face.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you?” He shouted abruptly, quickly letting go of your shoulders and flung his arms into the air with an exasperated groan.

“If it was easier for you to tell me about the dragon you were keeping hidden from a village filled with bloodthirsty, war hungry Vikings, I’ m almost afraid of whatever this could possibly be.” You joked, trying to lighten his mood.

“It’s not the same thing.” He muttered in response as you laughed.

“How could anything you have to tell me be worse than that?” Hiccup sighed in response as he went back to pacing. Clearly it was his way of thinking about what to do next. It wasn’t a trait he often exhibited but you knew once he started pacing, whatever he was thinking about was pretty serious.

“It’s not about what I have to tell you, it’s about your response.” He finally said, you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. You’ve known this man for years, and in those years you’ve learned countless embarrassing facts about him that he had less of a problem about you knowing than ‘whatever he had to tell you’.

“What does my response have to do with anything? Hiccup, anything you have to tell me won't change anything.” You stated with a laugh as you tried to comfort him. You almost started to second guess what you thought he was going to tell you. If he was truly this worried about what he was going to say maybe it was actually a very serious matter?

“Ha, yeah you say that now.” He laughed sarcastically, quickly looking up at you before returning to his pacing.

“Hiccup, I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

If there’s one thing about Hiccup it was his stubbornness. Anyone would just shrug that off as a Viking thing but you knew if anything, it came from his father. As much as Hiccup would deny being able to compare to his father, he shared many similar traits with him. You knew it, his mother knew it, even Gobber knew it, but he frequently denied it.

Stubborn.

“Why are you so concerned about me and Eret in the first place?” You decided to bring up the last topic, because if he wasn’t going to get to the point, you were.

“Because…” He muttered quietly in response as if he was holding something back.

“Because what hiccup? Seriously, I know you have an issue with communication sometimes but you can't just keep dancing around the issue here-“ You rambled a bit but before you could continue, Hiccup interrupted you.

“Because I have feelings for you!” He blurted out suddenly.

You both froze. He turned away from you as you simply stared at him. He finally said it, he actually really said it.

“Hiccup…” You muttered quietly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. The last thing he wanted right now was to turn around and have to face the potential of rejection.

“Hiccup.” You called out again, walking towards him and lightly placing your hand on his shoulder. He finally turned towards you slightly, but he still refused to face you all the way. “You’re serious?” You asked, to which he simply looked at you with confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“At least one of us finally admitted to it.” You joked. For some reason Hiccup had registered that you were making a joke, but not necessarily what you were joking about.

“Yeah okay, go on, laugh it out- wait.” Hiccup quickly turned back to you. You nodded with a smile, confirming his suspicion as he clearly thought he had misheard you.

“Wait but- for how long?” He asked excitedly, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Oh this is great! I thought you were going to hate me for even saying anything about it, but you’re not! You feel the same-“ He cheered, slightly beginning to ramble as all of his previous anxiety seemed to just melt away.

You smiled as you watched him celebrate before quickly planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

The man froze before you, clearly not expecting even such a small act of affection. You never knew him to be entirely bold, you always saw him as a very awkward man, but you watched as the awkwardness practically jumped out a window for a split second or so as Hiccup grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him.

He was the last person you’d expect such a smooth act to come from, and honestly you didn’t mind it. His eyes drifted from yours to your lips in a matter of seconds as if he was silently asking for your approval, to which you nodded.

Before you knew it you were kissing the literal man of your dreams.

It was wonderful.

It was a very soft kiss, the perfect kind to be shared for the first time.

Once you pulled away you looked to hiccup before dramatically gasping.

“What? What is it?” Hiccup asked, panicking that he had done something wrong.

“Does that mean… you were jealous of Eret?” You asked with a joking smile.

“Oh come on- really?” Hiccup said, jokingly pushing you away with a laugh.

Safe to say you never let him live this moment down, and much to his dismay you had excitedly told your friends about it not too long after.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello! I saw your requests were open and that you wrote for Eddie, so I had to 😋😞

I wanted to ask if I could request an Eddie x reader where let’s say reader isn’t the best withemotions and communication kinda sucks cause they grew up without a good example for love, maybe their parents weren’t good for one another/very bad marriage. due to this readers view of love can be like very tainted, or that love is kinda toxic in a way. So, they’re kinda self sabotaging/think Eddie deserves better cause they struggle with communication, and it boils down to a fight one day where Eddie is hurt they won’t let him in, and reader is kinda guilty and cries to him for the first time ever and just lets him know they love him a lot, more than anything, but don’t know how to show or say it.

Like they believe he’ll leave them, but he promises he won’t/loves them for them, and wants to show them love isn’t like how their parents were!

If you take this, thank u so so much but g you don’t it is a-okay!

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

pairing eddie munson x female reader [friends → lovers]  summary haunted by the version of love you saw growing up, you return to Hawkins and find yourself entangled in the most honest connection you’ve ever known [fluff, angst, slow burn, wc 4k]. a/n thanks for your patience, anon! really enjoyed writing this one.

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Each step you take results in a thick slosh that joins the patter of rainfall and rustle of the trees. The neon red open sign of the Quick Mart glows up ahead like a beacon amid the dreary evening. Of the two vehicles parked at the gas pumps, you can’t help but feel you’ve seen the van before. 

The bells above the doors jingle as you step inside. The air is cool against your wet skin as you wipe your Keds on the tattered black entrance rug. Rather than venturing deeper into the store, you stay near the front window and pray the storm clouds have already planned their exit. There was nothing particularly exciting waiting for you at home, but sometimes even your mother’s company was better than being alone. 

Time was supposed to be the great healer of all, but now that you’re back home from college, you realize not much has changed within Hawkins at all. It was as if the town was forever tethered to this singular state of existence. 

“Oh, no,” a lighthearted voice laments. “Rain got you good, huh?” 

You turn around, and there stands Eddie Munson and his warm smile at the checkout counter. His hair is pulled back out of his face, and a few rain droplets wet his gray t-shirt. He starts your way after the clerk hands him his bag. It’d been his van you recognized outside. He’s one of Steve’s friends.

“Maybe just a little bit,” you joke as he stops a couple feet away.  

Eddie’s gaze strikes a balance between sympathetic and amused. Even if it teetered toward the latter, you doubt you’d be offended. There seemed to be an eternal glimmer of warmth in his eyes. 

“Where ya comin’ from?” 

“The library,” you say. “Should’ve watched the news this morning.” You pull your shirt away from yourself so it doesn’t cling to your frame. 

Eddie’s gaze flits down to your body, more observant than anything. Then he meets your eyes again as if it’d been wrong to look. 

He clears his throat. “You’re Steve’s neighbor.” 

��I am.” 

“I remember seeing you around,” he says. “Guess our paths just never crossed.” 

You never realized how tall he was up close. Or how good he smells. You suddenly feel more aware of yourself.

“I can give you a ride home if you want,” he says. 

You shake your head before any words leave your mouth. “It should be letting up soon. Usually doesn’t last when it pours like this.” 

“You sure?” He watches the way you bite your lower lip in consideration. “C’mon.” 

Eddie starts towards the door, and the air returns to his lungs when you follow. 

•••

The inside of his van smells like pine, smoke, and earth. For a few seconds, you refrain from relaxing too deeply into the seat, but you eventually give in. The discomfort from being wet doesn’t last long. You don’t notice the tool bag at your feet until Eddie hisses apologetically. 

“Lemme get this outta your way,” he says. 

He reaches down, but you beat him to it. A surprised grunt escapes you at the weight, and he chuckles as he takes it from you and slings it to the back like it's light as a feather, bicep flexing. While he’s turned around, he grabs something else you can’t see at first. A green towel is soon placed in your lap. 

You blink down at it in pleasant surprise. 

“It’s clean,” he promises. 

“I wasn’t worried,” you assure, offering a small smile. You start wiping the moisture from your face and arms. “Thanks.” 

As Eddie pulls out the lot, the rubber of the windshield wipers squeak faintly as they move. You find yourself entranced by how they smear the raindrops. Eddie shoots a couple of brief glances your way. There’s an intimacy to the moment that he can’t help but be aware of. 

“Am I takin’ you home or someplace else?” 

The question shouldn’t catch you off guard, but it does. “Home, please.” That word feels heavier than it should. “I’m right across from Steve.” You forget he already knows. 

Hawkins is as slow and sleepy as ever as you two cruise down the empty streets. Eddie drives with one hand on the wheel, and your attention drifts from his arm to the bend of his knuckles. The weight of your gaze makes him peek over at you. You shift just slightly enough to confirm that you’d been staring, and he smiles, a subtle upturn of his lips as he refocuses on the road. 

For someone described as kinetic energy personified, Eddie knew how to settle into a silence. How to take what it gave him without trying to refashion it. It almost scares you how there’s such a sense of ease here by his side, traveling in the rain. You’d never given any thought to what it might be like, but you’d never have guessed this. He feels safe. 

“I never realized you had so many tattoos,” you murmur, breaking the stillness. 

He glances down at his arm. “Think you’ve been staring long enough to pick a favorite?” When your brows lift in surprise, he huffs a laugh that’s equally as worried as it is shy. “I’m messin’ with you.” 

A spark of boldness drives you to touch the one just above his elbow. It’s one of the softer tattoos he has, an intricate human-like creature with pretty wings. “Is this a fairy?” 

“When I was younger, my mom had this really nice garden,” he starts. “She always claimed it was filled with ‘em, and I believed her.” 

“Do you still believe in them?” You’re partly teasing.  

“I believe in a lot more than fairies these days.” It grows quiet, and he bites his lower lip. “She passed when I was eleven.” 

That lands harder than you’re prepared for. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Thanks.” 

Back then, it had taken a few years for Eddie to accept people’s sympathy instead of brushing it off. The last thing he’d wanted was pity from people who’d move on by the next day. More often than not, he felt like that same seven-year-old boy watering flowers with her on summer afternoons. As long as he could stay in tune with that version of himself, he’d have his mom forever. 

•••

When Eddie pulls into the driveway of your house, the lights in the foyer turn on. A second later, your mother’s head peaks through the curtains and disappears just as fast. Eddie chuckles, but his smile fades when he realizes the heavy look on your face. You hadn’t found her vigilance endearing. It takes a second for you to register that he’d laughed, and by the time you force a smile, it’s too late for him to believe it. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks, leaning in a bit. 

It’s too soon to tell him that she holds you to a high set of standards—especially now that you’ve graduated and are expected to either land a job or find an affluent husband who can provide. Too soon to admit that you can’t remember all the times she said she was proud. Her expectations overshadowed them all, and things worsened after the divorce, when your father moved out. Some days it was easier to love your parents than others. 

“It’s complicated.” 

Eddie didn’t know you as well as he did Steve, but perhaps, you and Steve were one and the same. Always wanting to be everywhere but the one place that was supposed to be a safe haven. Eddie used to be ashamed of Forest Hills and his uncle Wayne’s cramped trailer. But every day he came home, he knew he could leave the weight of the world at the door and not have to worry about picking up a new set of troubles inside. 

Things were never as they seemed from the outside looking in.  

Eddie clears his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too,” you sigh. “Thanks for the ride.” 

He means to say you’re welcome, but you hop out of his van and jog to the front door. Your mom is there to welcome you inside to seek solace from the rain. She waves at Eddie as he backs out of the driveway, and he politely waves back. 

All he can think about is that he wishes he’d met you a whole lot sooner. 

•••

Smoke flows into the air as Steve exhales beside you. He stares at a distant point down the street before taking another relaxed drag. Ashes pepper to the ground when he lowers the cigarette from between his lips and flicks it with his index finger. The sky is a beautiful ombre as a result of the setting sun. The two of you had come outside to sit on his curb and watch the day wind to its end.

“So are you two, like…” Steve trails off as he meets your gaze. It’d been three months since Eddie drove you home. 

“Please don’t.” You drop your face into your hands. He elbows you gently, and you return the gesture ten times harder. 

“Ouch!” 

“That did not hurt,” you say. 

“Did too,” he counters, chuckling as he massages his arm. 

A hush falls between you, and you shake your head when Steve offers you the cigarette. In the near distance, the laughter of children and the rhythmic thump of a basketball drifts into the air. Thanks to Steve’s question, all you can hear now is the way Eddie says your name, always a touch lighter than the rest of his words. You can hear his laugh. You can see his wild curls and kind, dark eyes. 

Sighing, you look at the house across the street with its long driveway and crisp, manicured lawn. The epitome of the small-town American dream. After years of living within its walls, you could confidently say it felt like a home on some days, but never all the time. Just like all the smiles and laughter you shared with your parents when they were married, they were real on some days, but never all the time. 

They lived together until you left for college, but even then, it always felt like they were miles apart. They’d met young, married young, had you young. Somewhere along the line, they stopped being brave enough to show up as their full selves. New hopes and desires went unvoiced and became grounds for resentment to grow. In their minds, it was easier to let those weeds sprout until the inevitable day the growth took over entirely. 

Part of you feared it was contagious. 

“I wasn’t trying to pry.” Steve finally says. “It’s just that Eddie said something earlier that…” he realizes he shouldn’t divulge, not when he wasn’t here to clarify or defend himself. 

“That what?” 

Steve ignores your question. “And you’re together all the time.” 

Somehow, those words make you feel caught. You hold Steve’s gaze. He’d grown into his pouty lips and round eyes, but you can still see the freckle-faced kid who would always ring the doorbell and ask you to come out and play until you eventually started joining on your own. Life always seemed to be sweeter outside, and it turns out the way he felt wasn’t far off. 

“We’re together all the time too,” you note. 

“Not like that.”

“Like what?” 

Steve shakes his head as he laughs. “You’re the most impossible person on planet Earth.” You can hear the affection in his voice. 

“Good,” you concede, then nudge him again, this time much softer. “Loser.” 

“Weirdo.” 

“Dork,” you shoot back. 

But more than that, he was right to suspect that something had blossomed between you and Eddie. It was a matter of when, not if, you acknowledged it out loud.  

•••

A metal clang erupts the second you climb out of your car. No sooner does a beautiful gray pitbull trot up to you with a wagging tail. Mike’s Tire & Auto Shop never has felt like a real place, but the lot was filled with cars every day, and you seldom heard any complaints. Perhaps that was by virtue of being one of the only service shops in Hawkins. That never stopped your folks from traveling the extra six miles to get their vehicles serviced at a more sophisticated place just outside town. 

All the garage doors are open, and various cars are hoisted on the lifts. A couple of mechanics tinker around, but none of them have the hair you’re looking for. With a deep breath, you start towards the garage, a Tupperware container in hand. The mystery pitbull happily follows along. Once you’re inside, you’re mindful not to step on any random car parts or get in anybody's way. A few of the workers appear to want to say something, but refrain. 

“Gloria Anne!” A sharp whistle follows the exasperated exclamation, and the dog promptly leaves your side to follow the sound. 

You turn around in time to see her heel with dutiful precision beside an older, bearded man dressed in a button-down. He wipes his face with a rag as he approaches you. 

“I’m so sorry about that. She ain’t usually like this.” Before you have the chance to say it’s okay, he continues, “It’s these goddamn pregnancy hormones. Yesterday marked four goddamn weeks. M’gonna be a grandpappy.” 

Your brows raise in surprise. “Oh…wow. Congratulations,” you say. “I wasn’t sure whether or not to pet her. Didn’t want to get her riled up or anything. 

The man shakes his head. “She’s a sweetheart. Only thing riled up around here is my blood pressure.” 

Then he curses under his breath. “Where are my manners—I’m Mike. Think I might’ve seen you ‘round town before.” He squints at you as if it’ll help jog his memory. “Haven’t been back to work here since I blew my back out this past winter.” 

Eddie comes out of the break room to the sight of you talking to Mike. Alaric, one of the other mechanics, motions to you as if to say what’s this chick doing back here. Eddie waves him off. Over the past few months, he’d gotten used to all the ways you managed to pop up in his life. 

“We usually ask that all customers enter through the reception area for their own safety,” Mike says.

“I was actually looking for someone,” you say. “Eddie Munson?” 

“That knucklehead over there?” He affectionately points to Eddie, and your head whips that way. 

There he is with his coveralls tied around his waist and his hair in a bun, tattoos on display. A boyish smile curls at his lips upon locking eyes with you. 

Eddie joins you on one of the benches in front of the shop. He seems grateful for the excuse to step away, sinking back into the wood and letting his legs fall open so his knee touches yours. 

 “I baked these last night.” You crack the Tupperware open, and he smiles at the chocolate chip cookies inside. “I realized I’ve never visited you at work, so I figured I’d find a reason to stop by. Thought you could maybe share with the guys.” 

“Or eat them all myself,” he jokes, warmth stirring in his chest. “You’re not trying to butter me up for something, are you? You know I’ve got an awful sweet tooth.” He knocks his knee against yours. 

A laugh escapes you, and Eddie bites his lip to keep from grinning wider like an idiot. 

“What would I be buttering you up for?”  

As he shrugs, there’s something about the weighted way he studies you. It’s like he’s trying to figure you out all over again. You’re pretty in the afternoon sunlight. Butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

He gets a soft look about him. “Guess you’re just thoughtful like that, huh?”

You shrug like it’s not a big deal. As if you hadn’t remembered the comment he made about chocolate chip cookies the other week. Or as if you hadn’t chosen to wear one of your favorite denim skirts. 

“My mom’s visiting her sister in Chicago, so they wouldn’t have gotten eaten at my place,” you say, a bit shy and warm from the way he’s looking at you. “And I already gave Steve a couple.” 

“I’m on break for another five minutes,” he says. “I say we take first dibs.” His eyes are hopeful. 

He hums around the first bite he takes, and you somehow feel like the center of the world. He’d go on to make you feel that way every time you were near. 

════ • ════

The first day of Summer ‘89 is marked by rain. A steady fall that continues well into the evening. Eddie can’t see it, but he can hear it all around, against the windows and the roof. It’s your touch he’s focused on as he sits on the floor between your legs, eyes slipped closed. Your fingers are gentle as they comb through the long strands of his hair and detangle where needed. Every so often, you massage his scalp to hear him make that pleased sound in the back of his throat. 

His head eventually falls slack against the inside of your thigh. You don’t stop. Not until light begins to pour into the otherwise dim living room. Eddie opens his eyes at the disappearance of your touch. He suddenly remembers where he is. Across the room, the TV drones a rerun of I Dream of Jeannie. 

“I think the sun’s coming out,” you say softly. 

“Looks like it,” he says, rubbing his eyes. 

“Let’s go see.” 

He groggily pushes to his feet and pads to the front window with you close behind. Sure enough, the sun has broken through the storm clouds above. It looks like heaven has opened. You admire the view through the raindrop-stained window. What you’re not expecting is for him to open the front door. Warm air flows into his trailer along with the scent of wet earth. The sound of the rain filters in much crisper. 

For a moment, the two of you stand in the doorway and soak everything in. You don’t realize you’re leaning into him until he rests a hand on your lower back. As much as you want to stay by his side and enjoy the comfort of his proximity, you retreat back into the trailer with a lump in your throat. What doesn’t register is the tight sigh Eddie releases as he remains in the doorway a few seconds longer.

By the time he returns to the living room, you’re seated stiffly on the couch. Eddie doesn’t join you or move from his place. He stares at the carpet for a few beats, then meets your gaze. That usual sparkle in his eyes has dulled. You wish the couch would consume you whole.

“What are we doing?” Eddie’s voice is so small that you’re almost able to convince yourself you don’t hear the question. 

You swallow in place of an answer. 

“I really like you,” he admits. 

“I like you too.” 

He huffs a humorless laugh as he gives you a helpless look. “You know what I mean.” 

That’s what scared you the most, knowing. The possession of knowledge isn’t passive. It demands one to be in a state of action or consideration. Seldom did knowledge yield a steady, unchanging state of being. To know is to feel and react. And the way you feel about Eddie is more than just in your head. It’s a truth that runs through your bones. 

“I just need to know whether or not I’m wasting my time thinking there’s something else here,” he says. 

Amid all the emotions stirring within you, the easiest and cheapest one is offense. 

“So I’m just a waste of time?” 

The feeling that flares in his chest is wild and unfamiliar, hurt and disbelieving at the same time. 

“No, I actually enjoy spending time with you—if you can believe that.” The sarcasm he tacks on his shaky around the edges. “You laugh at my jokes and make me feel good, but you’re also just a really awesome person.” 

“Eddie…” 

“You can’t keep leaning in only to pull away,” he stresses. “It’s not fair to either of us.”

Summer hadn’t reached its end, but you’d never know that meeting him back on that fateful day last year would’ve led to having some of the best times of your life. From days at the pool, to walks at Lover’s Lake, to spending the night at his place, to Sunday cruises around town. Eddie was everything you never knew you needed.  

Tears sting in your eyes. 

“I want more.” He motions between the two of you. “And every time you laugh at my jokes, or trace my tattoos, or fall asleep in my van, I’m left wondering if you feel the same way.” His words grow quieter on the tail end like he’s scared you’ll deny ever being on the same page. 

You don’t realize you’re crying until the couch cushions dip as he joins you. All you can do is shake your head because you don’t know where to begin. Eddie hesitates for a fraction of a second before he reaches out to take your hand. That’s all the permission you need to sink into him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, and this time, the last thing on your mind is creating distance. You tuck your face into his neck like it’s the safest place in the world. 

Eddie gives you a squeeze, but he still feels out of his depth at the sight of your tears. One thing he knows for sure is that he wants to make them go away. 

“You deserve better,” you manage. 

With a gentle lift of his shoulder, he attempts to make you sit up and look into his eyes. But you double down because you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop crying if you do. 

“You are the better,” he finally says. 

Those words give you enough courage to look at him. You feel bare, but the only thing that resides in his eyes is a palpable attentiveness. 

“I’m not good at this. You don’t wanna be with me,” you insist. “You’ll look up one day and realize you made a mistake. And you’ll leave because you respect yourself enough not to keep trying.” 

Eddie’s chest grows heavy with your implication. “That day’ll never come.” 

“That’s what everybody thinks in the beginning.” 

“We’re not everybody,” he asserts lightly. “Look at me.” 

You redirect your attention to him. 

“Do you want this?” Eddie asks, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek to wipe your tears. 

You nod because you’re afraid to say it out loud. The words have dried in your throat. 

His eyes continue to search yours, and it feels like he’s seeing more than he ought to see. But for some reason, your fear begins to melt. Because you realize you’re staring into the same warm eyes that’d taken in your soaking figure at Quick Mart. The same eyes you managed to find at every hangout and party. The same eyes that would peer over at you during movie nights, heavy with sleep. 

Eddie’s mouth opens a couple of times before he finally says, “I love you.” 

Your breath is promptly sucked from your lungs because you know you’d heard him right. Yet somehow, it doesn’t feel like the first time. The words strike a part of your chest that recognizes the sentiment. It’s the same one that had come along with all the times he called to check up on you, brought you snacks, stayed up late with you, played his guitar when you didn’t feel like speaking. It’s just that now, you’re actually hearing the three words out loud. 

“I know you didn’t grow up with the perfect example of what that looked like between two people—neither did I,” he continues. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to take a crack at it ourselves.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

What he’s not expecting is for you to lean forward and press your lips to his. He stills, only to melt into you in the next breath. Warmth engulfs both of you all the way down to your toes. Eddie’s sure you can hear his heart beating within his ribcage. The kiss is tentative and sweet, just enough to get a taste and leave you with the sneaking suspicion you’ll forever be addicted. When you pull away, it’s to whisper against his lips. 

“I love you too.” 

Eddie smiles at that and pecks your lips again because he can’t help himself. 

Outside, the rain has stopped. If you were to part from each other and go look through the window, you’d see that a faint rainbow has stretched itself across the evening sky.    

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

EDDIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS 

[skywalkerslvt]

WRISTUSSY I NEED MORE WTAF

Webbed-Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

❥Pairing: Peter Parker x AFAB reader

❥CW: smut, p in v, inappropriate use of web shooters (wristussy), sub peter, reader is a desperate whore, strip tease? peter is an oblivious idiot, 4.7k words

❥Summary: after many failed attempts at trying to get peter to realize how bad you wanna fuck him, you resort to using his web shooters (his wristussy).

❥a/n: ty for the request!! so glad people are actually enjoying my slightly unhinged fic lol. hope u like what i wrote!! asks are currently open so feel free to send in more <3 part 1 is linked here but u don't have to read it in order to understand this fic.

The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated the space between you and Peter, casting a warm, golden hue over his focused expression as he sat hunched over his homework. His brow furrowed, a slight crease between his eyes as he scribbled down equations, his mind completely absorbed in the task. The only sound in the room was the soft scratching of his pencil against the paper and the low hum of the air conditioner. It was almost peaceful—almost too peaceful, and definitely too quiet for you, especially with the way your mind kept wandering.

You sat on the couch beside him, a few feet away, your legs stretched out casually in front of you. But as you watched him, so deep in his work, you couldn’t help but feel a small frustration simmering beneath the surface. You had been trying to get his attention for the last twenty minutes, but Peter was completely oblivious, his focus entirely on his assignment.

You shifted slightly, making sure your movements were subtle, quiet. You weren’t going to outright demand his attention; no, you wanted him to notice you—without realizing he was being distracted. So, you decided to start small, to test the waters.

Your foot slid from the floor, inching closer to his chair. Slowly, as nonchalantly as you could manage, you brushed the inside of your foot against his calf, letting the soft, tender skin of your foot glide up the length of his leg. It was the most delicate of touches, a subtle nudge, but just enough to send a spark through your own body as you felt the contact. You held your breath, hoping that he’d at least look up or acknowledge the movement, but he didn’t.

Peter didn’t even flinch. His pencil kept moving, scribbling across the page in perfect rhythm. You exhaled softly, biting your lip in frustration as your foot lingered there, gently caressing the side of his leg. His leg was warm under your touch, and you couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of his muscles flexing as he shifted in his seat. Still, no reaction. He hadn’t noticed.

You sighed quietly, your foot brushing a little higher, inching upward along his calf, the motion soft but deliberate. It was a teasing touch—nothing obvious, just enough to make him aware of your presence, but it still didn’t seem to reach him. His gaze stayed fixed on his work, brows knitted in concentration. It was like you weren’t even there.

The frustration began to bubble up in you, but you fought to keep it hidden. This was supposed to be playful, lighthearted. Maybe he hadn’t felt it yet, or maybe—just maybe—he was so wrapped up in his homework that he didn’t even realize what was happening. That idea should’ve been enough to deter you, but it only made you more determined to keep trying.

Your foot moved once more, pushing slightly against his calf, a little firmer this time. Still, Peter’s reaction was nonexistent. The pencil continued to move, and his eyes never wavered from the page. You could almost hear the sound of his focused breathing, the soft rustling of the paper as he turned it, marking down his next answer.

For a moment, you paused, trying to decide your next move. This subtle game wasn’t getting you anywhere—Peter was too engrossed in his work to notice you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as his jaw clenched in concentration, his hand gripping his pencil with an almost too-serious intensity. The way he looked so absorbed in his world made you feel like you were practically invisible, and that realization only deepened your frustration.

Your foot pulled away from him, the touch fading, and you sighed again. Maybe you needed to do something else, something a little more direct. But for now, you waited—watching, wondering if he would even notice that you were still sitting there, so close, but so far from his attention.

Frustration was building in your chest, but you were determined not to let it show. Your foot had barely made an impact, and Peter was still wrapped up in his homework, completely oblivious to the subtle attempts at gaining his attention. You’d given it a fair shot, but clearly, your foot wasn’t going to do the trick. You needed to be more direct—maybe then you’d actually get him to notice you.

Sitting back on the couch, you crossed your legs in a slow, deliberate motion, letting the silk of your shorts slide against your skin. The casual, easy stretch felt good, and you let your gaze wander over to Peter once more. He was still hunched over his desk, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, completely absorbed. His fingers worked quickly, writing down notes, and his brow furrowed with the intensity that always seemed to consume him when he was in full study mode.

A small smirk tugged at your lips. If anything, you’d gotten used to the way Peter could focus, could shut out everything around him when he had a task in front of him. But tonight, you weren’t going to be content with sitting back and waiting. You wanted him—wanted him to see you.

You shifted in your seat again, this time letting the movement be more noticeable, just enough for him to catch it out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” you started, your voice casual, yet laced with something a little more playful, “it must be tough, working so hard all the time. You don’t really take breaks, do you?”

Peter didn’t look up from his homework, his pencil still moving furiously across the page as he muttered, “Uh-huh, yeah. I know… gotta get this stuff done.”

A small laugh escaped your lips, but it wasn’t a happy one. More like the sound of someone trying to keep their patience in check. You leaned back on the couch, extending your legs out slowly, letting the fabric of your shorts slide up just a little higher as you stretched again, making sure he would catch a glimpse of your smooth skin. “I get it,” you continued, your tone softer now, a little more suggestive. “But, you know, all that hard work… it must make you tense, huh? I mean, with all the stress, your muscles probably get pretty tight. I could help you relax a bit, if you wanted…”

Peter barely glanced over at you, giving you only the briefest acknowledgment. His eyes flickered up for a split second, but not enough to truly register what you were saying. “Uh-huh. Yeah. I’m fine, though. Just gotta finish this up,” he mumbled, his focus immediately back on his notes.

You bit your lip, fighting to suppress the rising wave of frustration. You were right there—so close to making him notice. And yet, the distraction you’d so carefully orchestrated fell completely flat. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you tried to keep your composure. It was fine, really. You had more tricks up your sleeve.

Still, you pushed yourself a little further, trying to keep the mood light, but with just the right touch of flirtation. “I don’t know,” you continued, your voice dropping lower, the words more deliberate now. “I heard it’s really good for you to take breaks, you know… Do you ever let someone take care of you? Maybe someone who could help you unwind… Maybe even in a more relaxing way?”

There was no response this time, other than a quick, distracted sound of acknowledgment from Peter. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds nice,” he muttered. “But I’m almost done with this. Just one more page…”

You stared at him for a moment, disbelief washing over you. He was so absorbed, so laser-focused, that he hadn’t even caught the implication in your words. Your patience was wearing thin, and the ache in your body from wanting his attention was beginning to become unbearable. You leaned forward slightly, your voice sweet but with just a hint of something else. “You know, a real break could be something a little more... personal. Don’t you think?” you teased, allowing the words to linger in the air between you.

Peter’s pencil scratched on the paper again, and he gave you another absentminded “uh-huh” in response. His eyes didn’t lift from his work.

You couldn’t help the little frustrated sigh that escaped your lips. Every single attempt you’d made had failed, and here he was, acting like you weren’t even in the room. What would it take to get his attention?

You sat there, a little defeated for a moment, watching him work diligently while your thoughts spiraled, your desire for him only growing stronger. It was starting to feel like you were invisible, as if he didn’t even realize that you were here—right here beside him. That stung more than you expected it would.

But you weren’t going to give up that easily. If words couldn’t do it, maybe a more direct approach would.

Frustration continued to simmer inside you as Peter sat at his desk, completely absorbed in his homework, completely oblivious to everything around him. Your earlier attempts to distract him—subtle hints and flirtations—had been ignored with barely a glance. His focus was razor-sharp, too focused on the assignments in front of him to notice you.

But maybe a more direct approach would work. At this point, you were willing to try anything to snap him out of it.

You stood up from the couch, trying not to let the frustration show on your face. You knew exactly what you were going to do. You had a plan now, a way to grab his attention. You made your way to his room, your mind already running through the steps. Reaching into his dresser, you pulled out one of his oversized shirts—a familiar, soft cotton tee. It wasn’t your usual choice, but you knew it would do the trick.

You glanced back at him, noting how deeply engrossed he was in his homework, not even sparing you a glance. You took a deep breath and stepped back into the living room, standing right next to his desk. You felt a slight nervous thrill as you stood there, his back turned to you.

This was it. You had to be bold.

You stood there for a moment, just for the effect, making sure he could hear the sound of you taking off your shorts. Slowly, you slid them down your legs, letting them drop to the floor with a soft rustle of fabric. Without breaking your stride, you tugged your panties off next, leaving yourself in nothing but his oversized shirt.

You stood still for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air, and gave a slow, deliberate stretch, feeling the fabric of the shirt pull tight over your body, its hem brushing just high enough that he could catch a glimpse of your bare thighs if he looked.

You did everything you could to make sure he noticed, but still, Peter didn’t seem to notice at all. His eyes remained locked on the papers in front of him, oblivious to the subtle show you were putting on. You almost couldn’t believe it. Had he really not seen what you were doing?

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you cleared your throat and asked, your voice smooth but tinged with impatience, “What are you doing?”

Peter glanced over at you, his eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion as he looked you up and down. His gaze lingered on your body for a beat longer than necessary, but his attention seemed to snap back to his desk almost immediately.

“What are you doing?” he asked again, genuinely puzzled.

You leaned against the desk with a smirk, keeping your tone casual, but there was a trace of challenge in your voice as you answered, “Getting more comfortable.” The words hung in the air between you, but he still didn’t seem to pick up on the intent behind them.

Peter stared at you for a second, a vague look of confusion on his face, before shrugging, almost dismissively. “Oh, okay. Alright.” He glanced at your exposed legs once more, then immediately turned his focus back to his homework, seemingly unfazed by the fact that you were standing there in just his shirt, fully exposed and very much not what he expected.

You felt a frustrated sigh escape your lips. Was he seriously this oblivious?

This wasn’t working. But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

You couldn’t take it anymore. He was completely oblivious, and you were tired of waiting. So tired.

Peter was always so absorbed in his homework, always so focused. But this time, you were done being patient. You were done with his cluelessness.

You took a deep breath and stood up, walking with purpose over to where he was seated at his desk. His back was still turned to you, head bent over his papers. He didn’t hear you approach, and before he could notice, you stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

He flinched slightly at the sudden contact but didn’t pull away. You pressed yourself against him, the warmth of your body seeping into his. You leaned forward, your lips brushing lightly against his ear as you whispered, your voice soft but insistent, “You should take a break.”

He didn’t respond at first, too focused on his homework. You could feel the tension in his shoulders, his concentration far too deep to notice what you were suggesting. You were so fed up.

“Peter,” you said, the words almost dripping with annoyance but tinged with something else—something more dangerous. “Come on, you’ve been at this for hours. Just take a break.”

He gave a soft grunt, shaking his head. “I just have to finish something. Just a few more minutes,” he mumbled, his voice distant and distracted.

That was it. You weren’t going to beg him for his attention anymore. You didn’t have time for his homework and his distractions anymore.

You kissed the side of his neck, pressing your lips gently to the soft skin just beneath his ear. He stiffened at the sudden contact, the unexpected kiss sending a shiver down his spine. But you didn’t stop there. Slowly, you moved your lips down the curve of his neck, your kisses trailing along his skin, teasing him. You could feel his pulse quicken under your touch, the effect you had on him undeniable.

You couldn’t resist anymore. You recalled the last time you two had done it, how sensitive his wrist was around his web shooter. How when you’d touched that spot, that sensitive area just around his web shooter, he’d whimpered.

The memory flashed through your mind, the way he had barely been able to keep it together as his webbing shot out, making everything so much more intense. And now, with him still too focused on his homework, you had the perfect opportunity to make him feel something other than his assignments.

You ran your hand down his arm, brushing past the soft fabric of his shirt until you reached his wrist. He tensed slightly under your touch but didn’t pull away. With a smirk, you lightly ran your fingers in circles over the spot where his web shooter was. You felt him shudder, his body responding instinctively, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

“Peter,” you murmured, kissing just beneath his ear, your breath warm against his skin. You kept your fingers moving, teasing him lightly, feeling him lean into your touch despite himself.

For a moment, he stayed still, and you thought maybe you’d pushed him too far. But then, with a sharp intake of breath, he finally got it. His head snapped back, and he let out a soft, desperate whimper as he turned his head toward you.

“I—shit, I—” He gasped as you pressed harder, the sensation overwhelming him in the best way. “W-wait… what are you doing?”

You smirked, your lips grazing the sensitive skin of his neck, barely holding back your amusement. “You think you’re the only one who’s been waiting?”

His breath caught in his throat, his body trembling as the realization hit. His hands clenched on the desk, his gaze finally locking with yours. The hesitation in his eyes was gone now, replaced with something much darker, much needier.

And that was all you needed to see.

You could practically feel the shift in the air as Peter's body tensed under your touch. His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time in hours, his attention wasn’t on his homework. It was all on you now.

"Please," he murmured, the urgency in his voice impossible to ignore. "Please don't stop." His hands reached for you, but he was still hesitant, unsure whether to pull you closer or give you space. His voice cracked slightly as he added, "I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I didn't realize—"

You cut him off, pressing your lips against his neck once more, this time more forcefully. He was a mess—just like you wanted. The sound of his breath, ragged and desperate, drove you wild. You continued rubbing over the sensitive spot on his wrist, feeling his webbing pulse beneath your fingers, his body betraying him, desperate for release.

"Finally figured it out, huh?" you whispered with a smirk, your hand moving lower, trailing down his arm to his chest. You brushed your lips across his, teasing him with the slightest pressure. He tilted his head, desperate to kiss you, but you pulled away just enough to keep him on edge.

"I—I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice low and husky, an almost pleading tone in it. "I should’ve... I should’ve been paying attention to you."

You let out a soft laugh, the sound both playful and sultry. "You think?" You could see how badly he wanted to make it up to you, how desperate he was to finally get things right.

But you weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

You moved again, your lips trailing down to the side of his jaw, kissing along his pulse point. Slowly, you slid your body against his, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

"Don't worry, Peter," you murmured, your voice honeyed with teasing sweetness. "I’ll make sure you’re paying attention to me now. All of me."

Before he could respond, you ran your hand further down his arm, skimming lightly over his chest, feeling his breath hitch at every touch. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, the tension between you both building with each passing second.

His eyes opened wide, his lips parting slightly in surprise as you shifted to sit on his lap, your body pressing against his, your hands finding the back of his neck to pull him into another kiss—this one hot, deep, desperate. You could feel him melting into you, his body softening under the pressure of your touch.

And just when he thought he could take it, when his body was almost pleading for more, you stopped.

You pulled back, looking at him with a mischievous smile. His eyes were wide, his chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. "I think we’re done with your homework, don’t you?" You slid your fingers over the edge of his web shooter, giving it a gentle but insistent push.

Peter's mouth parted, and a strained whimper fell from his lips. "Please, just... please, I can’t take it anymore."

You grinned, feeling victorious. "Good boy," you whispered, moving against him again, this time with purpose, as you both gave in to the tension that had built between you.

His hands moved faster now, running over your body with urgency, exploring every inch of you. His lips were on yours again, pulling you into a kiss that spoke of every ounce of desire he’d been holding back. Every touch was desperate, every kiss rough and needy. He wasn’t holding back now. And neither were you.

You could feel the shift in the energy, the tension between you both escalating, and a decision clicked in your mind. If Peter was finally paying attention, then it was time to move this to where it needed to be.

You pulled away from his lips, eyes locking with his, the electricity between you undeniable. Without saying a word, you stood from his lap, your fingers trailing across his chest, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You didn’t give him a chance to speak, instead, guiding him gently to his feet.

“Come on,” you said, your voice thick with desire, pulling him toward the bedroom. His gaze flickered between your face and your body, his breath ragged, following you like a man desperate for release.

Once you reached the bedroom, you turned to him and didn’t waste any time. Your fingers slid up the fabric of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly, deliberately. You could feel his eyes on you, hungry, as he took in the sight of your body exposed to him.

Peter swallowed hard, the tension in his posture telling you everything you needed to know. His hands were trembling slightly, but his need for you far outweighed his uncertainty.

“I—” His voice faltered, but he didn’t finish the sentence.

You moved toward him, pressing your body against his, guiding his hands to your waist, feeling the heat of him against you. His fingers tightened around your hips, pulling you closer as you both stood there, caught in the moment.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your breath coming in short gasps as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. You felt him nod, but his words caught in his throat.

“I do,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper, but the raw need in it was unmistakable.

You smirked, lips brushing over his ear as you whispered, “Then show me.”

Before he could react, you pushed him gently onto the bed. His back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. His hands immediately moved to your back, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, pulling you closer as his lips found yours again. The kiss was slower this time, more deliberate, as though neither of you wanted to waste a second.

You felt him harden beneath you, and the realization hit you both at the same time. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was real. And neither of you were holding back.

You could feel the heat building between you, your body moving against his as you guided his hands to where you wanted them. “Touch me,” you breathed, and Peter didn’t need another word of instruction. His hands were everywhere, roaming over your body, learning what you liked, what made you react.

You could feel his desperation, his eagerness to please you, and you let him. Slowly, your lips moved down his neck, tasting his skin as you started to unbutton his pants. His breath was ragged, his hands slipping from your body only to tug at the waistband of his jeans, pulling them off in one swift motion.

You didn’t waste any time. As you moved to straddle his hips again, you let your hands slide lower, your fingers teasing the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down in a single motion. His cock sprang free, hard and ready, and you couldn’t resist a small smile as you looked at him.

Peter’s hands moved to your hips, holding you still, but the hunger in his eyes was obvious. He wanted more, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” you whispered as you leaned down to kiss him once more, the urgency now palpable.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he guided you onto him. Your body moved, grinding against his, feeling the slow burn build up as you rode him gently at first, teasing him just like he had teased you.

But this time, you weren’t stopping.

You moved slowly, feeling the way Peter’s body reacted to each subtle shift of your weight. You could tell he was already close, his breath shallow, his hands gripping the sheets as if he was trying to hold on to his control. You knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither were you, but you wanted to make this last—make him feel every second of it.

Your hands moved up his chest, feeling the hard muscles under your fingers, before your gaze dropped down to his wrist. His web-shooters, hidden beneath the skin, were perfectly aligned with his pulse, and you knew exactly how to make him lose himself in the moment. You’d discovered that one night when he’d been particularly sensitive, and now you knew how to tease him, how to stroke his wrists in just the right way that would drive him wild.

Peter’s moans had grown more frantic as your hips rocked slowly against his, and you smirked as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his ear. “You’re so close, Pete,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I know you can’t last much longer. Just a little more.”

His body tensed, his hands clutching at your waist, trying to pull you closer. “Please… I can’t…” he gasped, his voice strained as he fought to hold back.

You could feel the way his body pulsed beneath you, his breath erratic. You brushed your fingers over the web-shooters on his wrist, making sure to apply just the right amount of pressure. You felt the subtle flex of his muscles as it responded to your touch, knowing it would push him further into madness. You kept a steady rhythm, teasing him, making sure he was right on the edge but not giving him what he needed just yet.

His breathing hitched, and you could see him biting down on his lip, fighting the urge to fall apart. “Please… I need—” His words trailed off as his body spasmed beneath you, the tension building with every second.

You didn’t stop, though. You leaned forward, kissing his neck gently as you continued to move against him, slow but steady, feeling the heat building in your body. Your hand moved again, fingers trailing down his arm to where his web-shooters were, knowing the sensitive spot where you could push him over the edge.

You lightly rubbed your thumb over his wrist, just enough to make him whimper, his body bucking beneath you in response. “Please… don’t stop,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper as his grip tightened on your hips.

You smirked, feeling a surge of power knowing how much he was enjoying it, how much you had him at your mercy. “You don’t need to worry, Pete,” you murmured, your voice sultry and low. “I’m not stopping until I know you’ve had enough.”

His eyes shut tight, and his body trembled beneath yours as the wave of pleasure started to build again, stronger than before. You could feel the way he was slowly unraveling, his hands now digging into your skin, pulling you closer as his control slipped away entirely. And just as his body started to tense up, you pushed him further, your thumb pressing against the web-shooter again, just as he gasped, his back arching.

The next moment, Peter came—hard. His body jerked beneath you as his wrist tensed, firing off webs instinctively with the same intensity as his orgasm. You could feel the way his muscles clenched, and you held him, moving with him, making sure he felt every inch of it.

He let out a strained, breathless moan, unable to hold back as his body gave in to the overwhelming sensation. The webbing shot out from his wrists, splashing against the sheets beneath you, and you stayed with him, riding out his climax, making sure he felt it all.

When it was over, Peter lay there, gasping for air, his body still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You pulled him close, your lips finding his in a soft kiss. “You did so good, Pete,” you whispered, feeling him relax beneath you, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

Peter finally opened his eyes, looking up at you with a dazed, satisfied smile. “You always know how to make me lose it,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. “I know what you like, Pete,” you teased. “Always have.”

[callsigns-haze]

Meet and greet

Summary: Jake proudly introduces his daughter to the Dagger Squad in their unfinished San Diego home, where teasing and affection blend as they embrace her as part of their extended family.

Warning: Mild teasing, lighthearted banter, mentions of unfinished home construction, family bonding moments.

Word count: 1367 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Could be read alone or as a one-shot of the little life universe

It was a warm, golden afternoon when you first stepped into the new house in San Diego. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a rich glow over everything it touched. The house itself was bathed in this soft light, a stark contrast to its cold, unfinished interior. The air outside still held a hint of autumn chill, but inside, the sun filtered through the uncovered windows, filling the empty rooms with a warmth that softened the raw edges of the place. The floor was bare, an expanse of concrete where future hardwood would eventually go. The walls were mostly drywall—some unfinished, others completely absent—revealing exposed beams and the skeletal structure of what would one day be your home. There were no countertops, no cabinetry, and aside from the few boxes scattered about, the place was still more of a construction zone than a liveable space.

But this was the first time you’d seen it. The first time you had walked through the front door with Ellie, who was four months old now, her tiny body resting in the crook of your arm. She stirred, her bright green eyes—Jake’s eyes—blinking sleepily in the dim light as she adjusted to the new surroundings. You cradled her closer, gently smoothing a lock of her fine blonde hair that had slipped out of place. She was curious but quiet, taking in the unfamiliar shapes and shadows around her, her small mouth slightly open in wonder.

“It's... a work in progress,” you said, your voice light but laced with amusement. You glanced over at Jake, raising an eyebrow, and the corner of your lips quirked into a smile.

Jake, standing a few steps behind you, shifted his weight with a sheepish grin. He rubbed the back of his neck in that familiar way he always did when he was trying to downplay something. “Yeah, it still needs some love. And, you know... counters. And walls.”

Your chuckle echoed faintly through the empty space. “More of a construction site than a house, Seresin,” you teased, shaking your head as you walked further into what was supposed to be the living room. The sunlight streamed in through the large windows on the far wall, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice softening as he moved closer, his hand resting at the small of your back. “But I wanted you to see it.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the top of Ellie’s head in a tender kiss, and she gurgled softly in response, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest. “This is where we’ll be someday, when it’s all done,” Jake continued, his voice full of quiet promise. “Our home.”

The words hung between you for a moment, and you could feel the weight of them—what they meant. It wasn’t just about the house, but the life you were building together. You leaned into him slightly, your eyes drifting over the exposed beams and unfinished drywall, imagining what it would be like when the house was complete. You could already see the living room filled with furniture, the sound of Ellie’s laughter filling the space as she learned to walk, as she grew up.

But for now, it was just the three of you in this shell of a house, with boxes piled in random corners and dust settling in the sunlight. And yet, there was a certain magic in it, a sense of potential waiting to be realized.

“And I figured it was about time the squad met their favourite little girl,” Jake added, his grin widening as he pulled back slightly to meet your gaze. There was a twinkle in his eye, a mischievous light that reminded you of the playful, cocky man you had fallen for, but now softened by the weight of fatherhood.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound escaping before you could stop it. “Oh God, I can only imagine the teasing that's coming,” you said, shaking your head.

As if on cue, the unmistakable sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway reached your ears. You turned toward the front of the house just as several cars pulled up in quick succession. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and in they came—like a whirlwind. Rooster was the first through the door, his aviators still perched on his nose, even though the sun was beginning to set. He was followed by Phoenix, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, with Payback and Fanboy right behind her. Coyote lingered at the back, his easy grin already in place, knowing exactly what was about to unfold.

Phoenix was the first to speak, her eyes immediately landing on Ellie, who was still nestled against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. “Well, well, if it isn’t the famous Ellie Seresin!” she said, her voice laced with mock surprise as she crossed the room in a few quick strides. She reached Jake first, giving him a playful shove. “I still can’t believe Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin has a daughter. The world is officially upside down.”

Ellie blinked up at Phoenix, her big green eyes wide with curiosity, her little mouth forming a small ‘o’ as she tried to make sense of this new face. She kicked her legs slightly, the fabric of her tiny onesie bunching up around her chubby thighs.

“She’s got his eyes,” Rooster chimed in, coming up behind Phoenix, a grin already spreading across his face. “But thank God she doesn’t have his attitude.”

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes but clearly expecting the jab. “Can’t you just be nice for once?”

“Nope,” Phoenix said with a smirk, leaning down to coo at Ellie. “This is payback for every time you’ve called me slow or trash-talked me in the air.”

Fanboy and Payback joined in, their laughter filling the empty space. “Seriously, Jake,” Payback said, chuckling as Ellie let out a small yawn, “I thought you’d be a terrible influence on a kid. But look at her—she’s perfect.”

Jake, his face flushed with a mix of pride and exasperation, shook his head. “I must be doing something right, then.”

“Or maybe YN’s the one keeping you in line,” Coyote piped up from the back, his grin wide and knowing. He had always been the one to see through Jake’s bravado, the only one who truly understood how much fatherhood had softened him, how much Ellie had changed him.

As the squad continued their good-natured ribbing, each of them took turns getting closer to Ellie, their teasing gradually shifting into softer, more affectionate tones. Rooster ran a gentle finger along the back of her tiny hand, his expression uncharacteristically tender. Phoenix kept making little cooing noises that made Ellie blink and smile, her toothless grin brightening the entire room.

“I gotta say,” Phoenix said eventually, straightening up and crossing her arms as she looked between you and Jake, “I never thought I’d see the day when Jake Seresin would be this soft. But here we are.”

Jake, always one to play it cool, shrugged, though the smirk on his face was undeniable. “What can I say? She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“She sure does,” Rooster agreed, grinning. “But don’t think this means we’re going easy on you in the air.”

The banter carried on, with the squad teasing Jake mercilessly, but beneath it all, there was a palpable sense of admiration, even love. They might have been a bunch of rowdy aviators, but in this moment, they were family. And Ellie, despite being so small, was already the centre of it all.

Eventually, Ellie dozed off in your arms, her tiny fist clutching at the fabric of your shirt as her breathing deepened. The noise of the room faded into the background, and you leaned against one of the unfinished walls, watching as Jake stood in the middle of the squad, a proud father, surrounded by the people who had been through so much with him.

In that moment, the house—still raw, still unfinished—felt like home. Not because of the walls or the counters or the floors, but because of the people inside it.

If you'd like to be tagged let me know!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Coal - Two

Pairing: Alpha!Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Omega!Reader

Summary: Adjusting to life with your Pack is hard, adjusting to the other Alphas on base is even harder.

Warnings: A/b/o dynamics, military inaccuracies, language, sexual themes, Angst, unwanted male attention,

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: im not kidding i have 39 drafts currently and at least half of them are ready to be posted im just rotten <3

~*~

It's been a week since your arrival and you have yet to see your mate.

Soap has made a point to spend as much time with you as he physically can, Gaz joining more often than not.

Whether that's walking you to breakfast, showing you around, or persuading you to join them in an old storage room in the basement that's been repurposed and turned into a rec room exclusive to members of the 141. And now, to their Omega as well.

However, just because you haven't seen Simon doesn't mean he hasn't seen you.

He tries to keep to his regular routine, he really does, but it's hard to maintain when his other pack mates are busy with the new toy Laswell brought.

Sparring just isn't the same when he's by himself.

It's worse when Soap joins him, reeking of you.

Sweet sweet Omega, with soft eyes.

A jumpy thing, scared, no doubt.

Every morning he swallows the growls and frustrations of his inner Alpha.

He doesn't need an Omega.

Especially not one who's been groomed to serve. The last thing he needs is a handmaid.

"You could join them, you know."

Simon says nothing, just continues to watch as Soap and Gaz chat your ear off in the mess.

Price sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes on the Alpha and the internal battle that he's not hiding nearly as well as he thinks he is.

"Why do you torment yourself? She's yours, and she's right there. Take her."

With a hardly noticeable clench of his jaw, Simon turns on his heel and leaves.

Sighing once more, Price heads over to join the three of you at your usual table.

The moment he sits down you stiffen, smelling the other Alpha.

Instinctively, your head snaps to where the Captain came from, desperate to catch a glimpse of the big man to whom you belong.

He's gone.

Your shoulders slump forward the tiniest bit and you frown, your lighthearted conversation with Gaz forgotten as disappointment courses through your veins.

How are you supposed to help the man if you can't even see him?

"Don't mind him," Soap suddenly says, breaking the tense silence.

You bring your eyes up to his and are slightly surprised when you see nothing but honesty in them.

"He takes a while to come around, don't let it get ya down. He's a real softie once you get to know him."

You hum, dropping your eyes down to the table.

His words do little to make you feel better.

You're sure the Lieutenant isn't a horrible man when you get to know him. Once he lets you get to know him. And that is a luxury you're not sure will be extended to you.

Later that day, like so many others, Soap and Gaz are leading you downstairs toward the rec room.

They prattle on about something to do with their training, an approaching assignment, but you can't focus on that.

No, instead, your focus is on the intoxicating scent of the Alpha who refuses to claim you.

It's stronger down here than it's ever been, and when you step into the rec room you realize why.

There he is, standing tall by the bookcase against the far wall.

His shoulders tense when you enter the room, but he doesn't look at you.

You shrink in on yourself the tiniest bit and follow closely behind Soap as he heads to one of the two couches.

He collapses with an obnoxious groan, his eyes on the Alpha at the bookcase.

"Nice o' you to finally join us," he calls sarcastically, his hand sliding over yours soothingly when you take a seat beside him.

Simon says nothing, only turns to face the Beta.

The movement wafts his scent toward you and you can't help the soft whine that falls from your lips.

He's right there! Why isn't he coming closer? Why hasn't he scented you yet? Why hasn't he so much as lifted his eyes to your face?!

These questions tumble over each other in your mind only for everything to go quiet when he does, in fact, bring his eyes to your face.

His gaze finds yours, holding it despite your innate desire to look away.

He forces you to look into his eyes and you feel exposed, vulnerable, afraid, almost.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, and then he's leaving the room without a word.

His quick departure leaves you breathless, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood in your attempt at fighting tears.

A wave of disappointment and anger rolls toward you, and you can't help but shrink in on yourself even more.

Unhappy. Alpha is unhappy. Alpha is angry.

The rational part of your brain tries to drown out your inner Omega, reminding you of Laswell's words.

It's not you. It's not you. He's unhappy with the arrangement, Alpha is not unhappy with you.

You repeat the words silently to yourself like a mantra, until Soap's long fingers winding around your wrist pull you from your thoughts.

"You a'right in there, little one?" He asks softly.

You're nodding before he's even finished speaking.

"Omega," he warns, a frown on his face.

The use of your title sends a jolt through your body and you straighten up, dropping your head forward in submission.

"You're going through a lot, honey. It's okay if you're not okay. Your entire life has been uprooted and your Alpha isn't exactly making it easy for you here," Gaz whispers gently, taking a seat on your other side.

You swallow hard and take a few deep breaths before speaking.

"I just... don't understand," you finally whisper.

Gaz and Soap both lean in, each pumping out their own fair share of comforting pheromones and successfully drowning out the sour scent of your anxiety.

It's instinctive, something Betas are naturally trained to do when an Alpha or an Omega seems to be in distress.

It's part of what makes them so crucial to a strong pack dynamic.

"Not many understand the Lt, little one. Don't beat yourself up over it. He just... needs time."

You nod, trying your best to believe his words.

Time, the Alpha needs time.

A small part of you can't help but scoff at the very notion of it.

He needs time.

He needs time to adjust.

What about you? What about your need for adjustment? He's not the one who's been taken from one of the only homes he's ever known. He's not the one who needs to adjust to four new people, an entire pack.

He's not the one who's very nature demands he serve and obey.

But he's the one preventing you from doing that which your nature demands.

Lifting your eyes to Gaz's and then over to Soap's, you give each of them a weak nod.

"Okay."

Your eyes drop down again and the two Betas exchange glances.

Your words and your scent are telling different stories.

They can smell your displeasure and what seems to be annoyance, but they say nothing. Instead, Soap is changing the subject and Gaz is following along with an almost practiced ease.

~*~

That night, long after you've called it a night, Soap finds himself playing the role of personal punching bag to his Lieutenant.

Simon's shoulders are tense, his punches sloppy, but he makes up for that with the force he puts behind them as he spars with the unfortunate Beta.

"Somethin' botherin' ya, Lt.?" The cheeky Scot asks, ducking around a punch and dancing around the bigger man.

"You know bloody well," Simon grits out, glaring at the Beta.

Soap opens his mouth to speak but finds himself on his back on the mats, the air knocked from his lungs.

Simon growls warningly in his chest as the man sucks in a breath.

Finally, he speaks.

"Like it or not, she's a part o' the pack now. She's your Omega. As long as you're still employed here, she's your mate and you know that. 'Ve already heard Laswell talkin' about you sharing barracks sooner to force proximity before your next rut."

A shiver runs down the Alpha's spine at the idea of taking his pretty Omega during his rut. Knotting her nice and full, pumping her belly full of pups.

He shakes the thoughts from his head and glares down at the Beta.

"The last thing any of us needs is a fucken liability. And you mark my words - that's all she's gonna be."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves the gym without another word.

He means to head straight to his quarters, he really does, but a familiar scent on the way catches him off guard.

Against his better judgement, he follows it. Follows the trail down the stairs and into the rec room with a sort of silence that he's mastered.

And there you sit, curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch with a book in hand.

There you are, in his corner of the couch, with one of his books in your hand.

He stands there for several minutes, watching you, watching as, with every flip of a page, you bring the book to your nose and take a sniff.

You shouldn't be down here alone. Shouldn't be wandering around alone and unclaimed.

The thought shocks him, and he takes a half-step out of the room.

The sound of movement makes you drop the book, spinning on the couch and facing the door only to see both nothing and no one.

With a frown on your face, you pick the book back up and hold it to your chest.

Maybe some things are better done with your two Betas.

Quickly, you exit the room, only to be smacked with a wall of the scent that you've been sniffing the pages of Mrs. Dalloway looking for.

A whimper leaves your lips.

He was here.

He was right here.

And you missed him.

Your face screws up with confusion.

What was he doing down here so late?

A small part of you, the tiny part that is still hopeful that there's a happily ever in store for you, whispers that maybe... just maybe... he was down here because you were.

Maybe he was coming to talk to you, scent you, accept you.

Those thoughts are squashed by the reality of the situation.

He was down here and now he's not.

Clutching the book to your chest, you scurry back to your quarters with your head down.

Eyes follow you the entire way, making sure you get there safely. Last thing he needs is extra paperwork if something were to happen to you.

At least, that's what Simon tells himself.

The next day (really, later that morning), Captain Price is walking you to breakfast like he has every day since your arrival.

He plates your food for you, chatting softly to you about this or that, anything to try and create an air of familiarity.

He even pulls your chair out for you when you freeze a few steps away from the table.

The three men act as though nothing's changed, and you try to follow their lead, swallowing hard as you take a seat across from the Lieutenant.

He pays no attention to you, keeping his focus on whatever Soap is prattling on about.

The Scot pauses his conversation, however, to bid you a cheerful 'good morning'.

You smile warmly at him, "good morning."

Simon stiffens slightly at your warm, honey-sweet voice, but otherwise makes no indication of noticing your presence.

"Think you can clear some time in your busy schedule today?" Gaz asks, nudging your foot under the table.

Your attention snaps to him, your shoulders relaxing.

"I'm sure I can juggle some things around."

Price lets out a soft huff that you're pretty sure is supposed to be a chuckle, and Gaz grins at you.

"Perfect. You're gonna join Johnny and I in the gun range today."

You set your fork down and raise your brows at him.

"I'm sorry?"

Soap gives you a toothy smile and nods his agreement.

"After breakfast. We figured y'could use a change. 'Sides, wanna show off."

Gaz snorts, "we know who the better shot is, Johnny."

"Aye, m'glad we're in agreement, then."

Their banter, somehow, makes you feel more relaxed, something that does not go unnoticed by them.

Breakfast is finished swiftly after that, with Price cleaning up your stuff while Gaz and Soap each rush over to take one of your arms.

You can't help but giggle, allowing both of them to escort you out of the mess and toward the gun range.

You feel so comfortable with the two of them that you don't notice the third man until he's pushing into the gun range behind you.

He notices the way you tense upon realizing his presence, but he says nothing. Instead, he keeps close to the wall while Johnny chats your ear off as he and Kyle gather their equipment.

He doesn't hear a word the Scot says. His attention is too focused on you. He stares without shame, watching every movement, every twitch on your face, every muscle that works to pull your lips back over your teeth in what could be one of the most beautiful smiles he's ever seen.

He can see the strain in your neck as you fight the urge to turn and look at him. Can see the way you fidget, fingernails scratching at your palm, picking at a loose string on your sleeve, anything to keep them from being still.

Good, he thinks. You should be nervous.

He's not sure why, though.

The bang of a gun breaks him from his thoughts, and he shoots a glance at the target only to scoff and roll his eyes.

Soap gives him a pointed glare, and lines up another shot, only to miss the target once more.

You watch with intrigue as Gaz pushes Soap out of the way to line up a shot of his own, only to miss.

"Sloppy," Simon chimes in, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I'd like to see you try, Lt. S'hard to focus around somethin' so sweet," Soap whines, a hand finding your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

The sudden brazen contact in front of him has your heart skipping a beat, a soft gasp falling from your lips.

"Shouldn't make a difference," the Lieutenant barks. "Go stand in front of the target."

It takes you a minute to realize he's talking to you, only piecing it together when your eyes find his after no one else moves.

He raises his brows as if asking what you're waiting for, and you quickly obey.

Soap helps you climb over the barrier, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

He knows Simon wouldn't put you in harm's way. He may not be the most accepting of the new life you share, but the man isn't a monster. He wouldn't be doing this unless he was absolutely certain of his aim.

You, however, don't know him like Soap knows him.

Your footsteps echo in your ears as you approach the target, and the roaring of your blood drowns out all other sounds when you come to a stop, turning to face the three men.

Every heartbeat is audible, every breath slow and shaky as you lift your eyes to your Alphas.

If this is a test, you intend to pass it.

If this is where you meet your end, then sobeit.

Simon raises his eyes to yours, those deep browns so full of ice as he looks at you, and then he's taking a gun from Gaz and aiming toward you.

The image of him standing strong, tall, gun in hand and pointed toward you, is not one you think you'll forget anytime soon.

Your jaw flexes and you take another deep breath, trying to stay as steady as you can while this man, your Alpha, glares at you over the barrel of a gun.

He wouldn't hurt you, you try to tell yourself. And even if he did, maybe death wouldn't be so bad.

A shot rings out and, seemingly at the same time, the bullet thumps into the target just above your head.

You can't help but jump, squeezing your eyes shut for a brief moment then huffing a breath out through your mouth and bringing your eyes back to his.

He keeps his gaze focused on yours as he takes another shot, and then another, then another until he's emptied the clip.

Each bullet gets closer and closer, but not a single one so much as nicks you.

Finally, he lowers his arm, setting the weapon down and glancing at his comrades.

After so much noise, the silence feels deafening.

"That's enough playing. Get your heads back on the right way and meet me in the gym."

With that, he turns on his heel and exits, leaving you alone and a little shaken against the target.

Soap and Gaz exchange glances, and then Soap is following after your Alpha while Gaz climbs over the barrier and makes his way toward you.

"You okay, little one?"

Refusing to show your fear, you nod, stepping away when he reaches out to touch your arm.

"Which way to my room?" You ask quietly, voice trembling the tiniest bit.

Kyle's heart breaks a little but he gives you the directions, watching as you scurry away without another word or look in his direction.

You keep your head tucked as you move through the hallways, letting out a sharp gasp when someone suddenly steps in front of you.

"You smell like a dream."

Your heart drops and you take a half-step back.

"C'mon, don't be like that," The Alpha tries again, reaching for your wrist.

You shake your head and take a step around him, picking up the pace and hurrying away.

You don't lift your eyes from your feet until you're safely in your room, and then you can't help but hyperventilate.

This is NOT what was supposed to happen.

Trembling fingers clutch your phone and you glare through foggy eyes until you find Laswell's number.

Hovering over the contact, you stare for a few minutes before finally shutting your phone off and tossing it aside.

Everything is fine, you decide.

You aren't hurt, and no one has really tried to hurt you. You're being dramatic.

This is the military. The Alphas here are the exact ones you learned about at the Shelter. All you need to do to survive is follow orders and keep your head down.

That's it.

And eventually, maybe Lieutenant Riley will put a mark on your neck and a pup in your belly so you can stop worrying about drawing attention from other Alphas.

[jigeuminunbich]

more than a little bit | kim donghyun (leehan)

synopsis — you’re not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, seeing as you’ve never experienced it and leehan is your first ever relationship. but after scolding him for contemplating a haircut, you realize that you might just be familiar with the sensation.

genre — nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, and straight fluff

content — leehan wants to cut his hair (reader is strongly against that) and cheesy i love you’s

word count — 1k

author’s note — the fact this is my second (2nd) time writing abt being against an idol cutting their hair ijbol

“Woah,” Leehan pauses in the mirror right beside his bed, ruffling a hand through his unruly brown locs. “I need a haircut.” he comments, it’s quiet— intended to be taken as something lighthearted as he punctuates with a short laugh.

But you pull your head from your device at it nonetheless, eyes piercing into the back of your boyfriend’s head, “No, you don’t.”

“___, are you joking? Look at me,” he shakes his head, his long tresses following suit. Okay, yeah, his hair had gotten exponentially longer in the time you’ve been together. There was always the occasional comment from him or his friends that he was seriously overgrowing it but you happened to like his long hair— Leehan knew this well.

“I am looking at you… and you look fine.” You state slowly, almost as if you’re confused.

Leehan snorts, looking over his shoulder to glare at you through slitted eyelids, “You just don’t want me to cut it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I still think it looks good.”

Not even a moment later does your boyfriend eject from his spot next to you to stand, “Well if that’s the case, then I’m cutting it—“

“No!” Panicked, you reach out to grab ahold of his arm. Leehan looks between where you grip him and the alarmed look in your eyes.

“You were saying?” He laughs as you recede with a sheepish attitude.

You sit on the back of your calves, reaching that same hand up to twist a finger in one of his curly strands, “It’s not even that bad, ‘Hannie. You’re being dramatic…”

Leehan soaks in the adorable pout that finds the plush of your lips before finding your gaze, “I’m the dramatic one here?”

That same pout deepens, almost teetering on a frown as you fully pull away from the boy. He watches you as you crawl back to your designated place on his bed. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”

Leehan’s eyebrows disappear into his mane, though an amused smile still plays on his mouth, “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” You answer, returning to the depths of your phone.

“Hmm. So if I leave out right now, you won’t stop me?” Your boyfriend continues to probe you, earning an eye roll from you.

Slow, he takes a few steps away from the side of his bed, walking in the direction of his closet, “Fine… I’m gonna get ready now…”

You nod, “Okay.”

The door to his wardrobe creaks open when Leehan leisurely twists the knob, “And I’m going to leave out to cut my hair…”

“Have fun.” You deliver him an uninterested wave which seems to be his last straw. The door closes as Leehan draws back to join you on his bed. You try to continue your stoic act but it’s hard when his body familiarly slots between your legs. His presence forces your eyes up from the meaningless content in your hands and to his gaze. It makes you giggle that he struggles to retain it without running the chance of a strand poking him in the eye.

“You suck at acting like you don’t care about me, y’know that?” Your hands reach up to push his tresses back into place as well as you could, completely abandoning your phone to the side.

“Fine. I don’t want you to cut your hair, is that so wrong?” You bat your lashes innocently.

Leehan bites back a smile, fighting just how effective the soft touch of your hands on his face and the flutter of your lashes is, “Is it wrong that you’re okay with your boyfriend walking around looking god awful? Well yes.”

This seems to personally offend you, an actual frown finding your features, “You don’t look awful! And who cares…” your hands travel to the sides of your boyfriend’s neck, pulling his body fully atop of yours.

“—you don’t even have to go outside, you can stay with me.” It’s muffled into the fabric into his t-shirt but Leehan still reacts with a deep laugh, you can feel his chest vibrate with amusement.

“Oh you’re crazy,” he determines, though it’s still lighthearted in nature. “Okay, I can endure one more week. Just for you.”

You shudder when he punctuates his declaration with a brisk kiss to the side of your face, and you try to ignore how fuzzy the gesture makes you feel.

“Awe, you love me that much?” You exaggeratedly ask, your tone is playful as you hope to tease your boyfriend since you’ve successfully persuaded him from touching his hair (for now).

Leehan laughs, shuffling from your tight grasp to hover over you just a bit, “Heh. I love you more than that.” His tone is light as well but his words leave a deep feeling to tugging in your stomach.

“… you love me for real?” The question tumbles out from your lips before you can even catch it, you hope Leehan doesn’t pick up on your split second of panic but of course, being the person he is, he does.

His merriment depletes for a moment as he adjusts to your evident shock, “I— yeah, I do. Of course I do.”

That pit in your stomach begins to swell with the flutter of butterflies, the giddiness that Leehan’s confession brings you shows up on your face as you beam a wide smile up towards him. “I think I love you too.”

Leehan quirks an eyebrow before he tilts his head, “You think?”

You swallow, slight panic running through you, “I’m not sure what it's meant to feel like but… it feels right—“

Your quick explanation is cut short at the melodic sound of Leehan giggling and half-hearted annoyance takes over your feeling of distress.

“I’m just teasing you, love. If you aren’t sure—“ Leehan begins to clarify.

It’s your turn to interrupt him, shaking your head with a content grin permanently painted on your face, “No, no. I am. I love you too, Leehan.”

Your reiteration of your love for Leehan leaves him silent for a moment, he leans down quick enough so you can’t catch the spreading flush taking over the expanse of his cheeks. You gladly return his intention to kiss you, giggling softly against his lips.

Leehan pulls away, opting to completely lay his body on top of yours. Your hands immediately find his scalp to play in his hair.

“Mm. To think this all happened ‘cause I threatened a haircut. I should do that more often.” He murmurs, a wicked snicker leaving him when you stall all movements on top of his head.

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

And that you definitely did.

© jigeuminunbich 2024

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”