#all the rest of what i want with you that scares me shitless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

enkas-illusion · 8 months

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What’s a Jumpscare?

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Roommates to lovers type beat; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, pure smut, oral (f and m.receiving), explicit sexual content, squirting, overstimulation, language, angst, Suguru is crass with his words, kinda jealous and possessive Suguru.

Summary: What’s the rational thing to do in the middle of the night when you’re scared shitless after watching a horror movie? It’s to call your flatmate Suguru to your room to sleep next to you. Being the nice roommate that he is, he’s more than happy to provide you with a solid distraction.

Author's Note: Porn with a plot but you really have to squint your eyes to find the plot honestly. I have no justification for this hehe. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it!

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Freak by Lana Del Rey

“What am I? A child? Fear doesn't exist in this household!”

That’s the embarrassing thing about overestimating yourself. One moment you’re boasting about your ability to endure jumpscares without flinching and the next, you’re sealing the ends of your blanket with your feet, hoping it’d protect you from imaginary ghosts.

As you bite your nails, waiting for your flatmate to answer the call, you feel embarrassed at how much of a wuss you’re gonna seem in front of him after talking big about not being one of the scaredy cats.

“Hello?” you hear his confused voice on the other end, laced with a hint of concern at you calling him in the middle of the night.

“Hi, Sugu,” you speak timidly, knowing you’re going to have to butter him up to get him to comply with your request. But before you can continue, you hear a mocking chuckle on the other end.

“Awww… look who’s scared shitless after bragging about being a horror movie connoisseur,” he teases.

“Pleaseee, come to my room,” you plead and you’re surprised when he agrees quickly before hanging up. But the emotion is soon replaced with dread when you realise that this is one of his rare golden opportunities to tease the hell out of you and Geto Suguru isn’t one to let it slide.

When he arrives, he doesn’t knock but slides your room door slowly so that the hinges creak eerily as it opens. His form almost blending into the dark hallway behind him, highlighted by your room’s awfully bright light.

“Suguru please, this is exactly why I did not want to call you here,” you complain as he smiles slyly, walking in before closing the door behind him.

“Then what did you call me here for?”

“Sleep here tonight,” you request, patting the space next to you on your bed.

“At least have the decency to ask me out on a date first.”

“That’s not– you know that’s not how I mean it!” you sigh.

“Be for real, this is all just a ruse to get me in your bed,” he snorts, leaning against the door with his hands crossed at his chest.

You roll your eyes and want to talk back at him but you remember that your scared ass doesn’t really have the upper hand here. You sigh again, “I’ll hold your pinky finger max… just so that I know I’m not alone in the room.”

“Holding hands? That’s like third base for you, babe,” he walks closer till he’s standing at the edge of the bed.

You pout at him and he bends forward in front of you, resting his palms on the edge of the mattress. “Did your dear friend not reply?” he teases you about your fuck buddy Marco but you decide not to react.

“Tease me all you want but please just get in!” you groan.

“Just sleep with the lights on,” he says dryly.

“I can’t fall asleep with the lights on but I’m too anxious to turn them off,” you reason, leaning forward to touch his bicep gently, hoping he’d be kind and understanding of your predicament.

“Just cover your head with the blanket?” He climbs into bed, sitting on the edge.

“Too suffocating. If you’ll be here, I’ll feel safe and sound,” you pout, trying hard not to smile at how he’s already complying to your request.

“I sleep naked.”

You suck in a breath to weigh your options. You know he’s just teasing but oh well, a distraction wouldn’t hurt, “I’ll allow shirtless.”

He takes his t-shirt off in an instant, throwing it to the floor before settling in next to you.

“Never miss a chance to make me uncomfortable…” you mumble as you try your best not to ogle at his abs.

“We both know you enjoy this, princess,” he smiles insincerely and you roll your eyes at him before turning to the side to reach the light switch near the bedside. Just as you turn the lights off, you feel a hand grab one of your ankles tightly and yank it roughly, causing you to let out a shriek as your body stumbles onto the mattress.

You hear Suguru laugh next to you as you turn to see his faint silhouette illuminated by the soft moonlight peeping through the window.

“Who does that!?” you scold him as you slap his chest repeatedly.

“Me!” he grabs your wrists to stop your attacks and instead wraps his arms around you. He falls back onto the mattress, caging you snugly into his arms so that your torso is almost on top of his.

“Suguru, I doubt this is a comfortable position to sleep in,” you wriggle into his arms as you free yourself to fall to the side, creating distance between your bodies as promised, holding only his index finger to maintain contact. A few minutes pass by in silence before you hear a sudden draft escaping the gaps of the window, making an eerie sound, causing you to hiss out a quiet ‘fuck’ as your hand readjusts to intertwine your fingers with his.

“If all you wanted to do was make noises instead of sleep, I could’ve done a much better job than a horror film,” he speaks softly as he untangles his fingers from yours.

You turn your head to look at his face, eyes searching his in the darkness, “Suguru, please stop teas–”

“Shhh, I’m just trying to get comfortable,” he interrupts and you feel his body turn to the side and towards you. His hand snakes around your waist as he pulls you into his warmth till your back is against his chest. This makes you giggle as you place your hand over his on your waist, fingers interlacing once again.

“Is this safe enough, madam?” His voice is playful but the way his hot breath fans the crook of your neck is far from funny. It’s as if the fear that had preoccupied your mind had suddenly started to lift, leaving behind a sudden sense of awareness. You suddenly feel hyper aware of the position you’re currently in with your attractive, not to mention shirtless, roommate.

You simply hum instead of speaking, not wanting your voice to betray you and expose the way you’re secretly enjoying the way his body feels against yours. For a second, you wonder how this type of stuff only happens in cheesy fictional movies or steamy romance novels. But on second thought, it might as well just be a well orchestrated happenstance – two adults willing to compromise on a rational way of solving things; and instead acting on their unbridled desire for each other, testing how far they can bend till one of them breaks.

That can never be you. You’ve taken an L as it is for one night, so if someone was going to break, it had to be him. You readjust your body to ‘get comfortable’, moving your hips slightly back till your ass is resting snugly against his crotch. However, when you don't get a reaction out of him, you abandon the idea just as quickly, creating some distance once again.

“Good night, Suguru,” you speak softly as you close your eyes, absentmindedly rubbing soft circles on the back of his hand while trying to understand how his brain works–you could’ve sworn the tension between you and him was real, so why was he acting so aloof?

You don't have to wonder much when you feel him move closer till you feel his bulge poke at your ass, causing you to halt your movement. Instead, Suguru's hand frees from under yours and dips under your t-shirt, fingers caressing dangerously close to your breasts. When you press your hips further back against him, he lets out a dry chuckle.

“Thought you were only going to hold a finger,” he mocks as his nose nudges behind your ear.

“This is a far better distraction,” you hum as you lift your hand up, moving it behind till your fingers are burrowed in his free raven locks.

“Is that what I am to you? Just a distraction?” his hand cups your boobs, fondling with the soft flesh, earning a satisfactory hum from you.

“No, you’re my dear roomie too,” you tease as you twist your head to look back at him, but your effort is in vain due to the darkness.

“Ahh, right! Just a roomie… that you keep on trying to seduce?”

“Whatever do you mean?” you pout as your hand moves to caress his cheek. He pinches your hardened nipple and it causes you to let out a quiet gasp.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about… roaming around the house without a bra… your nipples poking through the awfully thin fabric of your t-shirts,” his words make the heat rush to your cheeks as you feel his lips graze your neck and you close your eyes at the feeling.

“You roam around shirtless too.”

“That’s different.”

“Sure… seems to me that you’re the pervert here. C-can’t I be comfortable at my own place?” you tease but your voice comes out breathless as your brain is stuck on the way Suguru is playing with your nipples.

“Hmm… I'm trying to do just that… get you more comfortable,” Suguru bites your shoulder lightly as his hand moves down to dip into your sweatpants.

“Such a considerate roomie–mmh,” you swallow your words when he rubs your mound from over your underwear, “... what would I do without you, Sugu.”

You grab his hair to pull his face away from your shoulder before twisting your body further to kiss him on the lips. Your lips miss the mark and land on the corner of his mouth. He lets out a snort at this and brings his hand up to squeeze your cheeks before kissing you right.

His tongue slides into your mouth, swirling against your own and alternating it with soft tugs at your bottom lip. Suguru’s such a good kisser that you feel lightheaded when he breaks the kiss to allow you both catch your breaths. You can make out his outline as he moves away from you, making his way to your corner of the bed to turn the light on.

“Too bright!” you cover an arm over your eyes, scrunching your face at the sudden change.

“I want to see you,” he states calmly as he straddles you, fingers sliding the fabric of your t-shirt up to expose your belly.

“The lamp has enough light,” you stop his movement and motion him to move towards the bedside table.

He rolls his eyes but obeys as he makes his way to switch the bright tube light with the soft orange light of the lamp, “You could’ve easily fallen asleep in this dim light… you just wanted a reason to get me in your bed, huh?”

“Well, I really was scared,” you pout, making him laugh as he turns back to look at you.

“Yeah rig–” his words get caught in his throat when his eyes land on your bare chest.

“Would you rather go back to your room?” you tilt your head slightly as you toss your t-shirt to the ground before tracing your fingers gently over your rock-hard nipples. If Suguru had any other thoughts in his mind before that moment, the slate is wiped completely clean when he sees the way your dainty fingers dance over your skin, luring him in like a siren to a sailor.

“That ship sailed the moment you asked me to get in your bed,” he leans over you till you’re lying flat on your back and wets his lips as his eyes shamelessly fixate on your exposed tits. Without wasting another second, he dips his head down to suck on one tit while his fingers play with the other.

Your hands find their way to his hair as you let out soft hums, closing your eyes to enjoy the way his tongue feels on your sensitive skin.

He moves further down, leaving wet smooches over your belly but his movements come to a halt when his eyes land on your belly button.

“Is this new?” He asks, causing you to open your eyes and you find him eyeing the tiny ring piercing that's barely visible unless seen up close.

You shake your head, “You just never got to see it.”

“I knew you were a freak,” he leans down to kiss over it, “those innocent, doe eyes might trick others but they never fooled me.”

“But isn't that why you’re so hard, baby? Cause you like them freaky?” You shoot back as you hook one leg around his waist to tug the waistband of his sweats down with your toes. He grabs your ankle, peeling it away from him and pinning it down to the bed.

He simply gives you a devilish smile before leaning down to graze the silver metal piercing with his teeth, pulling at it playfully. In that moment, your body's reaction is beyond your control as you let out a whimper, goosebumps covering the entire expanse of your skin.

You bring your hands up to your chest to play with your nipples, back arching when his wet tongue licks a strip down your belly. He hooks his fingers into your waistband before pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

“Fucking hell Suguru,” you moan when you feel two fingers opening your puffy folds, dragging over the surface to spread your wet juices around.

“Yes, princess?” He looks up to meet your eyes and he can feel the blood rushing to his dick, making it harder than ever. He thinks he might as well cum by just looking at your already fucked out expressions while your fingers greedily play with your tits.

“I want your tongue… please eat me out,” your request is almost a breathy whisper.

“Hmm, what do I get in return?” He wonders, fingers rubbing soft circles over your clit.

“I'll suck you off–”

“No.”

“Please… fuck– what then?” Your voice grows impatient as rut your hips up to feel more of his fingers.

“I want you to stop calling that fucker over whenever you're horny,” his voice is so stern that it actually makes you focus on what he's saying.

Your eyebrows furrow at this as you stop playing with yourself to sit up on your elbows to get a better look at his face, “Who? Marco? I don't underst–”

“What's so hard to understand, dummy? I'm fucking sick of hearing you scream someone else’s name at nights when I know I could fuck you much better than that guy,” Suguru's tone is calm, yet he has to grit his teeth to keep his cool.

He didn't have to ask – in your mind it was already a given – what could possibly be better than having your unbelievably attractive flatmate make you his. No other men could ever compare moving forward.

Yet you want to push his buttons, like you always do, “hmm… I don’t know about that, Sugu. He’s really good with his tongue...”

“Is that the game you really wanna play?” He groans as he spreads your thighs open, nestling himself between your legs. He dips his head down till it is just inches away from your core, “Well, then… be my fucking guest.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning too hard – it was so fucking easy to rile him up. His tongue is quick to latch onto your pussy, causing you to let out a soft moan at the sudden contact.

Your body melts back down onto the mattress as you bring your hands down to play with his hair. He licks a strip up to your clit before moving back down to dip his tongue into your hole. As he begins to alter the pressure of his tongue, your thighs twitch involuntarily.

“Oh god– Suguru, right ther– nghh,” you push his head further down to bury his face against you completely. Suguru smiles at you as he lifts his head up slightly before letting the spit on his tongue trickle down to your hole and you can feel your insides clutching around nothing.

You lean your head back and shut your eyes tight when you feel his fingers spread his spit around your entrance. He takes you by surprise when he suddenly shoves two of his thick fingers into your cunt. The moan that escapes your lips next is vile to say the least and you bring your hand up to muffle it.

“No… don’t act shy now, baby. Let me hear your pretty voice,” he growls and you feel his other hand come up to yank yours away from your mouth as he begins fucking you with his fingers.

You nod your head desperately with your eyes still closed and whimper at his words, but it doesn’t take long before you’re cussing out lewd profanities when his tongue plays with your clit at the same time he begins to pump his fingers inside you faster.

“Suguru, y-you’re so good,” you stutter out praises as you feel your mind numbing at the sensation, getting closer to your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed when you feel him suck on your bud, adding a third finger into your hole.

“Oh my— yesyesyes,” you cry as your body twitches under him. You’re so close, you can almost feel yourself breaking. You bring your shaky hand to his hair again as you look down to find his eyes fixed on your face. Your eyebrows knit, the intensity of his gaze making you feel vulnerable and exposed.

“Sugu– I’m so clo–” you halt mid-sentence when he pulls away completely, causing your build-up to drop suddenly. You whine as you hook your legs around his torso, “Suguru! What the fuck?”

“Aww, sorry baby. Were you about to cum?” His tone is condescending. He holds up his hand to examine the wet coat of your juices glistening on his fingers, “Maybe you can call Marco over to finish the job?”

“Suguru, stop being so cruel,” you huff as you tug at his hand to pull him closer.

“You’re the cruel one here… expecting me to share what’s mine,” he moves up to kiss you on the lips and your moans are muffled by his tongue when his fingers part your folds once again, making your hips twitch.

“Please, I was only teasing. You’re the only one I want,” you beg, out of breath when he releases your lips.

“Is that so?” his hot breath fans your face. You nod desperately, clawing at his forearm to get him to move his hand once again.

“So, no more Marco? You’ll break all contact with that fucker?” he asks but it’s a rhetorical question anyway.

“Only you, Suguru,” you agree nonetheless as you lean your head up to kiss him once again.

“That’s a good girl. See how easy it was?” he smirks as his head moves down to your neck to suck on your skin roughly. Your brain goes dumb when he finds your sweet spot, you bring your hands to his shoulders all the while chanting his name when his fingers start fucking into you again.

You squirm under him as his bodyweight restricts your movement. When he feels your pussy flutter around his fingers, he’s quick to make his way back down to stimulate your clit with his tongue. You root your feet into the mattress, your hips thrusting up as your muscles twitch again.

“Keep going, fuck–Suguru” you cry as you grip his hair with one hand while your other hand pinches one of your nipples. The pressure in your core releases as soon as it builds when your orgasm breaks through you. Your legs fall limply to the sides but your abdomen still twitches as Suguru continues to lap at your juices.

You feel way too sensitive as his ruthless tongue and fingers begin to overstimulate you. You yank at his hair to warn him but he doesn’t budge.

“Suguru, too much–ahh!” your body twitches violently and he presses his other hand over your lower belly to keep you from moving too much. As you shiver under his touch, you can feel the coil building up in your stomach – it happens before you even realise it and you squirt all over his face.

You cry his name out loud, tears escaping your eyes as your body falls limp and you feel as if you’ve lost all strength. Suguru pulls his fingers out as he sits up between your legs, sucking his fingers clean before pushing the loose strands of his hair back.

Your chest heaves and you see the way his face shines due to the wetness. You bring a foot up to his chest, pushing him till he’s leaning back slightly, “You’re the freak here, Suguru.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” he smiles as he rests his palms onto the mattress, leaning back and spreading his legs open. You sit up and lean forward as you hook your hands into the waistband of his pants to pull them down along with his boxers. He lifts his hips up slightly and his dick springs free when you pull the garments down, discarding them to the side.

You lean down closer to his dick, your pussy fluttering when you see how perfect his size is – length as well as girth wise. Suguru has the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen and it looks even prettier with the precum leaking from the slit. You move your thumb over the angry tip, sliding the foreskin further down.

You smile at him innocently before focusing back down as your tongue licks over the head, wetting it further with your saliva. Suguru feels like he’s about to lose his shit at this, his dick throbbing painfully in your hands.

A guttural groan escapes his lips when he feels you take his length into your mouth till his tip is hitting the back of your throat. Your left hand moves under to fondle his balls while your right hand gently claws at his thigh. He runs a hand through your hair when you start bobbing your head over his cock.

“Shit– take it in, princess,” his voice strains as he grabs your hair to push your head further down. You let out a muffled groan when you gag slightly.

You pick up your pace and he doesn't know if it's because he's been hard for an awfully long time or if you’re clouding his senses, taking over every thought but he comes undone quickly.

When you rub the base tightly while letting his tip hit the back of your throat in a repeated motion, you feel his dick twitch.

“Fuc– baby, I'm cumming,” he moans as he tries to warn you, tugging at your hair gently but you maintain a steady rhythm, making him shoot his hot liquid in your mouth.

You slow down to pull away from his dick and look up to find Suguru leaning back, resting his weight on his elbows. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the way a string of saliva connects his dick to your glistening lips. He closes his eyes shut as his head falls back limply – he thinks it's impossible to get hard so quickly again after a good head but his body is hell-bent on proving him wrong.

You wipe your lips with the back of your hand as you sit up and giggle at his state. He opens one eye to look at you lazily, chest still heaving lightly.

“You're welcome, Suguru. That is what a real considerate roomie does,” you tease as you straddle his lap, leaning forward to leave soft kisses over his pecs. Your arms rest on his shoulders as you move up to his neck, biting and sucking on his skin.

“Mmh… you’re so fucking cute,” Suguru huffs as he brings his hand up to your face, guiding you to look up at him, “fuck...the things I want to do to you.”

“What do you want to do to me?” You question as you take his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it lightly before releasing it.

“This,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist to scoot you up till your chest is flush against his, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss is hungry, passionate and desperate and your arms wrap around his neck and you moan into his mouth when you feel two of Suguru's fingers glide over your folds to part them.

“... and this,” he mumbles between kisses and you feel him graze his tip near your entrance. He pauses briefly as he pulls back from the kiss, “Where do you keep the condoms?”

You shake your head no, “birth control,” you mumble before pulling him back in to continue your kiss. You're pretty sure you feel his lips curve up in a smile briefly before he shoves his tongue into your mouth.

His hand is quick to reposition his dick, lining it up at your entrance as his other hand wraps around your waist to lift your hips up slightly.

Your pussy flutters in excitement when his tip enters your hole. He breaks the kiss to look down where your bodies meet, placing both his hands firmly on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he guides your body down onto him slowly.

You whimper as you feel his fat cock impale your walls, resting your forehead against his shoulder while your hands caress his biceps. When he's filled you up to the hilt, he holds you steady, letting you adjust to his size.

“Sugu–”

“And this,” he whispers as he lifts your hips up with ease before slamming you down onto his cock in one swift motion. Your nails dig into his skin at this and you scream his name, your brain going numb when his pace fastens.

“Yes yes, right th– ahh,” your voice is slurry as you bite into the skin of his shoulder to keep yourself from losing your sanity completely– as if that were still an option.

“S-stop squeezing me so tight,” he sighs when your walls twitch around him. You bury your face into his neck, whimpering at the sensation as his tip kisses the right spot each time he shoves deep into you.

Suguru loosens his grip around your waist as he slows down and it's only then that you realise just how tight his hold was. But the thought slips your mind just as quickly as it arrives when he lies you down till your back is on the mattress with him on top of you.

With his dick still buried deep inside you, he readjusts your legs to hook them over his shoulders and folding you in half as he towers over you.

His lips meet yours as he pins your arms down to your sides, intertwining his fingers with yours. It's a simple act but it has you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“I want you…” he bites your lower lip lightly before releasing it, “...so bad...”

You hum into the kiss at his sweet nothings, not really being able to focus on the words he's spilling between kisses. You feel lightheaded – the way he kisses you softly is soon contrasted by the rough thrusts of his hips as he begins to pound into you mercilessly.

You cry against his lips as tears escape your eyes at how deliciously he's filling you up. Suguru kisses your cheek hastily before moving down to your neck to decorate your skin with his markings.

“Oh–mmph– god, Suguru,” you sob as he picks up his pace. You feel your mind going blank with each thrust – in that moment, you have nothing in your thoughts expect for Suguru and his cock.

Your moans get a pitch higher when he brings a hand down to play with your clit. It's the tipping point for you when his fingers and dick work in unison to bring you closer to your release.

You feel your pussy flutter around his length and he groans into your neck once again. He knows he won't last much long so he maintains a steady rhythm, rubbing your clit in a way that's eliciting a chain of lewd moans from you.

Your body convulses violently, his body weight on top of yours holds you in place as you reach your orgasm. Within seconds, you hear him hiss cusses into your ear as his dick twitches inside you and his cum paints your walls. Your vision gets blurry and you close your eyes, your breathing gets ragged as your body melts onto the bed and you’re pretty sure you would've passed out if not for Suguru’s sloppy thrusts coming to a gradual stop. He slides your legs down his shoulders gently and you let them slump to the sides.

“Baby, you good?” His breath fans your face and you look at him with half-lidded eyes. You let out a tired chuckle at the concerned look on his face. You simply nod at him as you slowly bring your hands up to hook them around his neck, playing with the hair on his nape.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he kisses your nose, “then you can rest all you want.”

You pull him in for a lazy kiss and he obliges, wanting to relish in this moment a little bit longer.

You don't remember how you fell asleep but when you wake up to the almost blaring sound of your doorbell ringing, you find your body impossibly closer to his. Your face is almost buried in his chest with your arms and legs tangled with his, caging you into his whole being.

You pull away softly, wondering how you even managed to fall asleep in such an awkward position. You lean forward to kiss his forehead but move back in a haste when you hear the bell ring again, quietly getting out of the bed.

Putting on your pants and t-shirt, you make your way out of your room and to the main door.

Your surprise is evident on your face when you spot Marco standing in front of you.

“Hey…” you greet him, already feeling a weird sense of embarrassment creeping over you.

“Did I wake you up? I thought you’d be awake by now,” he checks his phone for the time.

“No… I slept in a bit since I couldn’t fall asleep after watching that scary film,” you confess, your brain working in full force to come up with the right words to break the news to him.

He's still standing in the doorway since you haven't really invited him in so he tries his best to do some damage control, “Are you upset about yesterday? I'm sorry for kinda bailing on you last night.”

Right, if Marco had been there for movie night, you wouldn't have called Suguru when you felt alone and scared. But it didn't matter much as what had happened since was way more intense than your fuck buddy missing yet another movie night.

Before you have a chance to speak, you hear a voice from behind, “Oh, no worries, you weren't missed.”

You turn to see Suguru walking towards you shirtless, in only his sweats. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Suguru to be so unwelcoming towards Marco but what surprised the guy were the hickeys on your flatmate's chest on full display.

And if Marco wasn't smart enough to connect the pieces together already, Suguru snaking an arm over your waist from behind and leaving a quick peck on your cheek, all while wishing the guy a ‘good morning’ was enough to make everything crystal clear.

You give Suguru a side eye as you chuckle nervously, “Suguru, please give us a minute.”

“Ok, don’t take too long, baby,” he slaps your ass playfully but his eyes stay on Marco, almost taunting him with a cocky smile.

When Suguru walls back inside, you scratch the back of your nape awkwardly, “Sooo…”

“It’s fine, whatever. I just wish you’d told me about it before I embarrassed myself like this,” Marco shoots back, trying not to sound bitter but failing miserably.

“I’m so sorry. You have nothing to be embarrassed about… I'm the one who should be embarrassed,” you ramble as you observe his face for a change of expressions, “Would you like to come in?”

“Doubt that's a good idea,” his tone is cold.

“Right… are we cool? No hard feelings?” you ask.

“Nah, we were just fucking, that’s all– just don’t expect me to keep on being your friend now.”

“Oh, okay, I wasn't going to… guess this is it then?” you speak just as formally, getting slightly annoyed at his entitled tone.

“Yeah,” he lets out a dry chuckle before curtly nodding and leaving.

You close the door and swiftly walk to where Suguru is sitting on the sofa. He's grinning at you, extending an arm out towards you.

“Don't even try! I'm so embarrassed…” you scold him, “I wanted to break it to him gently!”

He simply shrugs before motioning you to get closer to him. You roll your eyes but nonetheless obey as you move closer till you’re standing in front of him.

You cover your face with your hands, your muffled voice speaking, “That almost felt like an awkward breakup that 12 year olds have after calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend for a week…”

“Good… you can't be having two boyfriends at once,” he snorts as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer, resting his forehead against your belly.

You grab him by the hair to pull his face away gently to look him in the eyes, “Wait, you want us to date?”

He nods as he chuckles at your surprised reaction, “You really are a clueless one. Yes, I want us to date… besides, I don’t just let random hookups squirt on my face.”

You shove his face away as you groan in embarrassment, “Stopppp.”

“Never. That was the highlight of the night for me– second only to the way your pretty little cunt fluttered around my dick,” he pulls you closer to kiss your belly from over the fabric.

“Suguru, you have such a dirty mouth,” you push him away but he doesn't bug, further tightening his grip on your waist.

“It’s cause you like it dirty,” he pulls you down till you’re straddling his lap. You giggle when his hands move under your t-shirt to flick your already hardened nipples.

You hold onto his shoulders as you move closer to close the gap between your bodies as you kiss him.

“So?” He moves away to kiss your cheek, “Go out…” another peck on your nose, “...on a date…” next on your jaw, “...with me?” before kissing your forehead lovingly, “Please?”

You pull back to ponder over the question for a moment and the familiar butterflies reappear.

“Okay,” you nod, blushing as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “I'd like that a lot.”

“Okay… celebratory sex.” he exclaims as he bites your skin, making it tingle.

“No! I’m really sore!” you complain.

“Just one round, I'll be gentle,” he presses.

“Have some mercy on your poor girlfriend!” you coo as you lean back.

“Not if you talk like that… you’re only gonna make me hard,” he chuckles as he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Suguru!” you pout. He laughs as he leans forward to give you a quick peck.

“Ok fine… then, breakfast?” he asks and you nod. You hook your legs around his waist as he gets up with ease, making his way to the kitchen. You giggle when he squeezes your ass as he walks.

“Don't think you’re getting off that easily. I'm only letting you relax now so that I can fuck you later after our date tonight,” he places you onto to kitchen counter.

“Ah, so considerate!” you roll your eyes before kissing his cheek, your fingers tracing the outline of his chest gently. Your eyes meet and you stare at each other in silence. You crinkle your face at how cheesy the moment seems, splaying your palm over his face to break his intense gaze.

“Fuck– are you sure… at least just let me eat you out… nothing else,” he groans and you feel his dick poke against your inner thigh.

“Suguru!” You complain but you break into a fit of laughter at how adorable he seems like this, a side you hadn’t seen before today.

“Okay, okay, fine!” He rolls his eyes before cupping your face, “one kiss and then I'm gonna make you something delicious.”

“Sure,” you laugh before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another heart-fluttering kiss.

~fin~

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #jjk #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto x you #geto smut #jjk geto #jujutsu geto

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carmenized-onions · 5 months

Text

Pretty. | Bolting Down Booths

logline; locking down chairs and a sweaty sleep deprived man (for now) (for the night) (platonically) (for now) (what?) (I didn't say anything).

series history, this is the third; First, Second

portion; 4.5k+

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (baby, Tony's mentally ill, get WITH it). We are once again, eatin' meat (beef!). Did I give the reader a curly girl routine? ....Perhaps...

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'girl' is thrown around quite a bit.)

is this entire series just a love letter to me wanting to take care of this guy? maybe so. maybe so.

Lifesaver. Lifesaver. Lifesaver.

Alright, fuck, you need to put on something to listen to because the thought isn’t leaving and the cherry lifesaver swirling in your mouth is so ironic that it’s leaving a bitter taste.

It’s after hours at The Bear, just after midnight, and you’ve returned to a clinically cleaned restaurant, ‘Ah… Syd keeps it locked in.’ and you’re thankful that you’re alone because it means everyone’s getting their proper rest. However, it also means your intrusive thoughts are really drilling in tonight.

You drop your phone on one of the booth tables, blasting music at full volume. That’s better. Little more static to work with now. You measure each booth and table for the third time tonight, rechecking that the angles are exactly as Syd had asked. They’re still perfect. Alright, get a move on, it’s not gonna somehow get more correct than correct…

You slip yourself under the table, verifying that the bolts are the proper fit— Also for the third time today. Hey, what if Home Depot fucked you earlier?! It’s important to check! You’re definitely not unreasonably anxious right now! But your power drill is practically screaming to be used at this point, so you acquiesce.

You’re on the last bolt when you hear a click of the front door opening.

“Fuck!” It scares you so shitless you jump and knock the top of your head on the table. You lay down quickly, back pressed to the floor to get a look at the perp. You point your power drill menacingly toward the front door.

Oh.

“Fuck are you doing here?” You and Carmen manage to speak in perfect unison.

There’s a beat before you opt to go first.

“Bolting.” Still lying under the table. You raise your drill upward, revving it a few times.

He swallows, sniffs, and scratches his nose. “Thought you were doing that tomorrow?”

“Technically it is tomorrow.” He scoffs, so you continue. “No, uh, Nat asked if I could come in after hours so I’m not as much of an active tripping hazard.” You gesture to yourself on the floor.

“Smart.” He rubs his eyes. He looks red and pink all over.

“…Thought you were getting off early today?”

“I did.” He clears his throat when you make a face about it. “I—I uh, did leave early, I just, just thought I’d come in and uh… Do some work.”

He rubs the back of his neck, continuing after a beat. “I’m, I’m uh, I’m good— In, in the kitchen.”

You chew at your inner cheek, staring at a very clearly distressed Carmy. His eyes are lined red, hair is in disarray.

“…Did you do it?” Did you break up with your girlfriend?

“…Yeah. I-I did.”

You just nod, thoughtful, before slipping back under the table, finishing drilling in the last bolt. “If you need a palate tester, lemme know.”

“Heard.”

The moment is soft but then cut short by you scrambling to quiet your phone atop your table when a perfectly unfitting upbeat song starts to sing out at max volume. He hides his smile poorly as he heads into the kitchen.

It’s a nice hour or so, in the front of house. You drill each bolt efficiently, grounding each booth and table in their place permanently. Your tunes play at a much lower volume now, careful to not alert the lone chef in the back. The intrusive thoughts have vanished with Carmen around, even if distant. He might not consider himself a brightening presence, but to you, he certainly is a nice lamp.

You stand up finally, finished, doing a big stretch of your arms and a crack of your back. You notice Carmen looking at you through the glass. He looks away, then back again, raising a hand, motioning for you to come in. Looks like you finished right on time.

It smells fucking incredible in here. You’re once again trying to temper your reaction as you pass through the door, not wanting to stroke his ego, but he’s already clocked it. It’s okay, you clock his boyish smirk of pride before he hides it with his hand, so you’re even.

On the steel table, plated— On their one black plate, because he’s not over having to settle for less— Are three perfectly cubed and seared pieces of marbled meat, glazed mushrooms, and some round breaded things that you’re not quite sure about. All perfectly plated and decorated with greens, parsley, specifically.

You step next to him, staring at the plate intently, taking it in visually. “Well?”

He hums in a way that sounds like a laugh, arms crossed. He stares at his own plate just as intently. “Pan-seared Wagyu— Sirloin. Wild mushrooms, basted in the same fat. Hazelnut-potato croquettes—”

“What the fuck is that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat, he just smiles— In a way that looks actually kind of genuine. He likes to teach. “Seasoned mashed potatoes, basically. Breaded with bread crumbs and hazelnut, in this case, and fried. There’s a gruyere center, to this one.”

You don’t miss the fact that he’s not stuttering anymore. He’s right. He’s good in the kitchen. In all the ways that entails.

“Test?” He lifts a fork to you. You take it.

You lean forward, elbow on the table. You take polite, small cuts of each part of the meal initially, it feels bad to destroy what is an art piece.

But then he leans forward, head meeting your level, amusement lilting his voice. “You know it’s a compliment to eat?”

You huff, taking a larger piece of everything to get it all in one bite. Everything is so soft and lush that you don’t need a knife. Goddamn. You take your bite. Son of a bitch.

You thought fucking brisket was good?

“Oh my god.” You put your hand in front of your mouth as you chew, switching your gaze to him. “Carmen, oh my fucking god!”

“Yeah?” His glow is slowly coming back to him, like a flickering halo. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Fuckin’— So good! What is it, fire? Excellent? What’s the top one? I’m angry that it’s this good.”

“Angry is a new one.”

“I’m furious!” You laugh, “I always thought luxury dining was fuckin’ scam, I’m not gonna lie to you. But I— I took one bite and I’m incredibly full and— And, it’s just— It’s really really good, Carm—Chef. Gotta show it to Syd for the menu.”

He nods, smiling, finally, unhidden. “Thank you, Chef.”

He grabs the fork from you to try for himself, but before he can get to his own plate, you press the back of your hand to his chest, holding him back. “Uh, ah, can I do a thing, for you?”

He squints, curiously, putting his fork down. “…Yes?”

You grin, walking around the kitchen the second he affirms it. “Where’s your wine box?”

“Ah… By expo, over…” He points to it.

You pop it open, hand waving over each bottle for the right one you’re searching for. “I’ll pay for it.”

“S’fine.”

A young Pinot Grigio, you go with. Ripe, sweet, airy. You walk by him again, grazing your hand on the small of his back and placing the bottle in front of him. “Open, don’t pour.”

“Heard.” He roots away for the bottle opener.

“And get me a clean knife and cutting board!”

“Fuck are you doin?” He doesn’t complain, getting what you ask for, but he is quite curious.

You sort through the fruit pantry in Marcus’ section, grabbing the most perfect white peach you can— It wouldn’t be perfect by morning, he won’t mind. “I am an occasional bartender and poor man’s sommelier…”

You meet him back at his station, slicing the peach thinly with the knife he’s left for you. “So, when I’m given the chance to pair a meal, I try to.”

You halve the thin slices, then place a few in each glass Carmen’s so kindly set out for you— Tulip bowled cups. You whistle, “You know your shit…”

His eyes light up, just a bit. He shrugs, handing you the uncorked bottle when you reach for it. “My job.”

“You’re good at it.” You pour the wine, proper— No stops missed for Carmen. “Okay, okay, okay…”

You hand him his glass— The one you think you did a slightly better peach placement on. “Alright, now you can have the dish you worked hard on.”

With a small smile, he takes a generous bite of his dish, takes his time digesting it, then sips your wine. He tilts his head, surprised by how much of a liking he’s taking to it. “S’fire. Well worth it.”

You sip your own glass, smiling, you explain before he can ask you to. “Yeah? Good. Citrusy white to cut the fat of wagyu. Or something. Poor man’s sommelier, y’know.”

“Hm.” He sniffs, and you try not to light up when he writes down the wine pairing at the bottom of his drafted recipe card. “Better than me.”

There’s a comfortable silence before he speaks up again. “You gonna head out?”

You squint at him, head tilted. “Are you?”

Once you know one Berzatto, you’ve known them all. Their tells included.

“…Eventually, yeah.”

“You drive?”

“I take the L.”

“Are you on the red or blue line?”

He doesn’t answer. So, that tells you he’s not on the only two 24-hour lines.

“…I’ll take a transfer—”

“When were you planning on going?” You cross your arms; he can tell where this is going and he hates it. You’re foiling his plan.

“When I’m done.”

“Done what?”

“…Cleaning.”

“I’ll help you,” You pick up the cutting board and knife swiftly. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I need to get work done—Too.” He takes a while to reply, but when he does, he speaks with haste.

You pause, putting the cutting board down. Let’s do the math here.

He said he came in ‘early’ this morning, but ‘early’ probably meant overnight because of the Fridge Guy. He left early, sure, before the dinner rush— But only to experience his first breakup—If you can call it that. Then he’s come back at midnight again, after everyone else has left. The likelihood he’s slept since the night before his opening isn’t impossible, but if he did sleep, he slept here. And he definitely hasn’t showered. He’s likely been awake 40 hours.

You nod, picking up the board again, walking it to the sink. You stand over it in thought.

“What’s wrong with home, Carm?”

“It’s gonna hit, if I go home.”

He swallows, “Everything’s gonna hit, when I go home.”

Now that you can understand. You nod, scrubbing the cutting board clean. “When your brother died, I holed up at my parents’ for two weeks.”

You don’t turn off the sink, even after you're done cleaning, because if you do, you fear he will hear your tell-tale heartbeat. “When I came back, my plants were half dead and my fridge was a biohazard.”

He sniffs, he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, for you to tell him he has to go home, that it only gets worse if you wait it out, that he needs to find a better way to deal with this—

“You can hole up at mine.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your head to look at him. He’s very hard to read but it looks like he’s entertaining the idea. You add, for the sake of levity, “You need a fuckin’ shower, man.”

He smirks, though the amusement doesn’t meet his eyes. “When I shower all my fuckin’ hairs gonna fall out.” He piles his dirtied utensils and boards, sidling up to the sink next to you.

“You need rosemary water.” You grab a dish rag, switching over to dry for him.

“Does that shit actually work?” You both quickly ebb into the domestic flow of handing off dishes. He mumbles ‘left-most drawer’, ‘top-shelf, right side’, and so on whenever you’re confused about where they go once they’re dry.

“It does. I have also had the ‘am I balding?’ crisis. Believe it or not.”

He stares at your hairline so intently you put your hand in front of it, flustered. He finally flicks his gaze back to yours. “If you’re really worried, you can make it pretty easy—”

“I’ll stay over.”

You take a second to register, then nod happily.

“Good. Where’s the black plate go?”

Your apartment is surprising because it’s built on top of an H&R Block, the concrete stairs leading up to it are chipped to hell, and the front door has clearly been graffitied then painted over then graffitied then painted over then graf—

And yet, it is almost certainly one of the best-looking apartments he’s seen in Chicago— On the inside at least.

None of the furniture matches, but it’s nice, it’s eclectic. It’s heavily thrifted and upcycled from furniture you found on the side of the road. That’s the nice thing, about being a fixer—Nothing’s trash if you believe in yourself. You drop your keys in a handmade clay tray— That’s the other thing Carm notices, so much of this is you alone.

The place is a mess, there’s half-finished projects in the corner of every room, tools strewn in odd places. And it’s perfectly welcoming. Warm. In a literal sense, too, because there’s a humidifier going off on a timer in the living room to make what Carmen estimates are your forty thousand plants and cuttings happy.

This is a perfect apartment because you live in it.

Nothing can hit, in here.

He comes back to reality when you reach your hand out to him, there’s a coat hanger in your other hand. Oh. Jacket.

“Oh, fuck.” He peels off his jacket, handing it to you. “I uh, I left your Carhartt at work.”

“S’fine, if I was in a rush for it back, I would’ve asked.” You brush off easily, hanging up the jean jacket in your small coat closet. “Ah…”

Your apartment has a pretty open layout, but you point at everything regardless.

“There’s the kitchen…” It’s on the right at the entry, with an open archway— Which you’re in the middle of rounding the corners on with plywood.

“The living room…” Straight ahead, he can see the half of it that isn’t blocked by the kitchen. You’ve got big windows, with a fire escape. Suncatchers and more plants are hanging from the ceiling by it.

“To the left, down the hall— The only hall, bathrooms on the right and straight ahead is the bedroom, you can put your shit there.”

His brows furrow, you say the last part quickly, and he’s going to say something but you grab the black plate he’s brought and brush past him to the kitchen.

So, he just shrugs off his backpack, “Heard.” And heads down the hall. For now.

It feels odd to put this very fancy, very expensive one black plate on top of the rest of your own cheap dishware— But he insisted you take it, so, here it is.

You march down the hall, going to grab towels for him from your room, but stop short when you hear him in the bathroom, mumbling, “Fuck is this?”

You peek in, “Fuck is what?” You come in when he turns the bottle in his hand for you to look at. You stare at it for a solid few seconds, genuinely alarmed, you look at Carmen with wide eyes.

“Carmy, look me in my eyes and tell me you know what conditioner is.”

“I—I know what conditioner is, but what are all the words for?”

“All the words?”

“Like, strengthening, bonding, texture—”

“Carmen?!”

“Don’t say my name like that…”

“You have wavy hair, too, Bear!” You stare wide-eyed, mouth in an open-mouth smile because if you don’t laugh you’ll start screaming. You swipe away the hair in front of his face, holding the tress between your fingers to get an idea of texture. You’re too focused to clock the way he flinches— At the nickname and the touch.

“We’ve got like, the same hair texture! What the fuck are you using?”

He doesn’t answer, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“Carmen…” You can make a pretty good guess. He bristles again. He has discovered does not like it when you say his name with any sort of animosity or disappointment.

“Carmen no… Two in One?”

“…Five in One.”

“Five in One?!” You clutch the sides of your head. “What are the Five?!”

He waves his hands in defense, “It’s—”

“Y’know what, don’t fuckin’ tell me, I don’t wanna know, I don’t need to know.” You cover your face and shake your head. “Just— I will get you clothes and a towel, wash—” You reach into your shower, grabbing your fruity body wash. “—Wash yourself with this, like a civilized person— And just don’t— Don’t touch your hair, I’ll take care of your hair after you shower.”

“You’ll take care—”

“You’ve lost your hair privileges; I will be taking up the arms.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, “I just—You need a tutorial, please.”

He holds the body wash in his hand, debating this fight or not, “I think five is—”

“Just fuckin’ say heard.”

“Heard.”

Despite everything, you both laugh. You tap the doorway on your way out, yelling to no one as you turn back down the hall. “Corner!” It’s worth it when he laughs again.

Ironically, the one shirt you know will fit him that you have is ‘The Berf’, so you grab that. Pants are a bit tougher, but with enough scrounging through your closet you find a long-forgotten pair of sweatpants your brother left here ages ago.

You approach the bathroom door, it’s still ajar, so you invite yourself in. He’s staring at your skincare products with a clinical fascination, stopping only to acknowledge your presence.

“Alright, alright.” You pop your pile of things down on the sink counter, handing each thing to him individually.

“New toothbrush.” Still packaged. It’s got your dentist’s address on the clear plastic. “Pyjamas. Towel, wash cloth— I think you’re good.”

When you turn your head to look at him, you catch the tail end of him staring— Again, his eye contact is so soft and also scary. And now that the sleep is catching up to him, he’s half-lidded and— Goddamn it he is very pretty, sonofabitch.

He straightens up, sniffing, nodding as a form of thanks, the likelihood he’s registered anything you’ve said isn’t likely— Which is fine, you are now too flustered to care. There’s a boy in your house and you’ve just discovered he’s pretty.

“I’m just gonna wash my face n’ grab a few things and I’ll be out of your way.”

You wash your hands; he unwraps his toothbrush. And without verbally checking in, you once again flow into a silent rhythm. You grab your toothbrush, dole out toothpaste on both of your brushes, and stare at yourselves and each other in the mirror, side by side as you brush.

You make a face, and while he doesn’t fuckin’ guffaw, he does smile, foam peeking through the corners of his mouth, and that’s enough for you.

You rinse— You try to be dainty about it but it’s not, because when has brushing your teeth ever been dignified?

You pump face cleanser into your palm, then nod to him to do the same. Good Carm, he listens. Like a mime tutorial, he follows your actions of foaming it in the hands and properly washing his face. There’s hope for this five in one boy yet.

You pile together your skincare and leave him to shower in peace. More importantly, leave to let yourself lose it in peace.

Oh my god there’s a pretty boy in your bathroom and it’s two in the morning. What the fuck were you thinking? You just invited him over without hesitation? You met him like barely two days ago! Oh my god! There’s a pretty boy in your bathroom! And it’s two! In the morning!

You need to kill the teenage girl in your head because she’s freaking you the fuck out. You were literally being so calm and chill and cool and cool and chill and calm— Oh my god you’re doing it again—

Everything is fine. He’s literally here because he’s experiencing a torrential downpour of awful. You invited him over because you’d invite anyone like that over. Pretty or not. Get your head in order.

You take a deep, mindful breath and exhale, returning to neutral as you meditatively go through your skincare routine and change into your nice pajamas— Y’know, the one modest matching set for when you have guests or go somewhere. Instead of the one usual incredibly stained oversized t-shirt.

You set up a chair by your kitchen sink, towel on the back for comfort. You were serious about the hair thing. Your scalp and his are curly girl sisters, you cannot leave them to die like this.

When he comes out, knots in his back undone, steam wafting, grime finally removed, he approaches you with much more energy, and leans against the doorway. You both speak at once.

“Weird to see you out of uniform.”

You snort; he flattens his mouth into a line to keep from smiling too hard (which, for Carmen, would really just mean smiling with his teeth). But really, it is weird. You’re both suddenly… People. You can see all his tattoos and his stupid gold chain...And he can see you.

You kick the chair with your foot, gesturing to it. “Sit, I’m washing your hair.”

You’re walking past him before he’s got the chance to deny, collecting proper products from the bathroom to use. Y’know. Not fucking five in one.

Once again, good Carm listens, sitting in the chair. Not without complaints, though. “Big fan of babying people?”

You wrap the towel behind his neck, tilting his head back into the sink. If you pretend, it’s like a salon. You hum in reply, blunt, “Yeah, I am.”

“I like to take care of people. In a way, it’s kind of my job.” You re-rinse his hair once the water is warm— Thank God your kitchen faucet is a sprayer.

“You’re good at it.” He’s too comfortable and lethargic to be aggro about this, so he’s just sweet and honest. It’s hard not to beam.

“I try.” You massage shampoo through his scalp, “I know I’m pushy about it, sometimes.”

He sighs, a breath of relief. When’s the last time someone else washed his hair? He’s been cutting his own for years, he cannot remember the last time. Had to have been before New York.

“Were you pushy with Mikey?” He’s not fully sure why he said that, and he’s waiting for you to make him regret asking it.

You just hum, nostalgically amused, “I think I got pushy because of Mikey.”

“Stopped hoping my friends would take care of themselves with the right tools and decided to just take care of them myself.” You rinse the bubbles from his hair. You’re happy to see his wavy pattern returning.

“A lot of work.”

“Not to me.”

You pump conditioner into your hand— And while he’d probably love for you to elaborate on that point, you have to pivot, “Alright, this part you actually should pay attention to— When you condition— Because you will be conditioning, from this point on.”

He just grunts in reply, but it sounds like enough of a yes to you.

“—When you do it, you’ll hang your head upside down and apply conditioner from the bottom— You gotta like, squeeze your hair in it—” You do the proper routine, squelching his hair, does he laugh at the sound? Yes. Yes, he does. “It’ll sound like that. And then rinse.”

You look at his peaceful, amused expression. His eyes closed. “Heard.”

“Are you retaining any of this?”

“I said heard, didn’t I?”

You just scoff, rinsing his hair. You teach him how to scrunch with the towel, but his eyes are so dazed during it you give the poor boy a break and don’t explain that what you’re putting in his hair is mousse. He might have an aneurysm if you use a ‘food word’ in relation to hair right now.

“Alright, alright, the exhaustion is setting in, let’s get you to bed before you start seeing spiders.” You take his arm and hoist him up. Everything is fine until this bozo tries walking to the living room while you’re trying to pull him down the hall. You once again, speak in sync.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m taking the couch.”

He now realizes why you spoke so quickly about him putting his things away in your room instead of the living room. It’s like you just awoke every Italian ancestor in his bones because he is immediately alert.

“No, you’re not.”

That’s fine because he’s in your household, motherfucker. Your family tree is in the furniture.

“You’re the guest. You take the bed.”

“You’re the host. You take the bed.”

“I’m the one that invited you.”

“And what? You’re the girl.”

At a point, you are both speaking with your hands, words tumbling on top of each other's.

“Bitch—” “It’s just not right—” “I literally made you come over specifically to get proper rest—” “I will be haunted all night by my Nonna if you sleep on the couch—” “The couch is a pull-out, it’s comfortable!” “Then let me use it!” “No!”

This is going nowhere fast.

“My own grandmother takes the couch when I visit. She would throw me off my own balcony if I made a guest take the couch.” Is your hard stance.

And his, “My Nonno would stab me if I let a pretty girl sleep on a couch.”

Now this does immediately shut you the fuck up.

That doesn’t mean he’s won; he’s also shut the fuck up. A slip-up of mutually assured destruction.

You bite back your wheeze of shocked laughter, and you’re very thankful it’s two in the morning now because the moonlight through the window doesn’t entirely catch your reaction of being embarrassingly bashful in this moment. How did the teen girl in you survive? You were so sure you got her…

Your hands hang in the air for a moment, before you finally manage to say, “Either I take the couch—”

“No—”

“Or, it’s a double, so we share it.” You shrug, wringing your hands, “So whichever one you find the least sacrilege.”

God, there’s no simple way to make that not sound like you’re coming onto him, is there? You’re not, for the record. It’s just the fastest solution. You’ve shared beds before, it’s not a big deal— It’s actually only a big deal if you make it one, it’s actually very normal—Get this fucking teen out of here—!

“Fuckin’— Alright!” He huffs after thinking on it for some time, rubbing his forehead in some sort of anguish before marching down the hall.

When you don’t follow, he clicks his teeth. “C’mon, Tony.” His tone is languid and aggravated.

Ah, the sweet sound of a man who has had to compromise— But will be damned if he doesn’t get his part of said compromise. Also the sound of a man who really wishes he hadn't just said pretty girl.

You follow him to your room. Fuck it. Say the thing. You've been trying to keep a level social playing field with him anyway.

“Heard, pretty boy!"

two idiots realize the other one is pretty and nice and try to not acknowledge it (DIFFICULTY LEVEL: IMPOSSIBLE)

Would you believe me if I said I was trying to not do the 'one bed' trope? I really was! I'm not a huge trope guy! But writing it down I was like 'neither of these people would fucking fold'. The only other option would be for both of them to stare at each other in the hallway for 8 hours and come to no agreement. Did not plan Pretty Girl but thank god because it was the only thing that would get them out of that time loop.

It's always my favourite thing when a person who's been cavalier when it comes to boundaries suddenly finds their line (he's pretty) and is now immediately so hyphy. I hope you also messed with this.

Tell me your thoughts!! Favourite bits, lines, etc!! Feeds me!! (Oh, speaking of fed, shout out to Daniel NYC, I did steal their menu for this. I'll probably do it again because I am not a Michelin Star Chef.)

Next Part

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #the bear fx #the bear x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Steve knows that it’s Eddie from the way the RV door sticks awkwardly before it opens, which makes him smile. The guy can break in and hotwire the thing, as smooth as you like, but then apparently turns into a klutz as soon as the pressure’s gone.

Eddie doesn’t notice that he’s inside at first, seems more focused on tying a few makeshift spears together with string so they don’t fall about the place. It’s only when he looks up, does a double take and says, amused, “Sorry, didn’t realise I was interrupting something,” that Steve remembers he isn’t exactly cutting a fine figure right now.

To put it bluntly, he’s currently hunched over, sat at the little table, eating canned frosting with a teaspoon.

“What are you even…?” Eddie sits down opposite him, peers closer and sees the label on the can. “Harrington,” he says, like someone reading out orders of execution, “that’s fucking gross.”

“Hey, I found it sealed in the cupboard, it’s not expired. And it’s chocolate, man,” Steve defends.

A pause. “Can I have some?”

Steve laughs. “Sure.”

He finds another teaspoon, moves the frosting so it rests in between them. Smiles when Eddie knocks their spoons together, like they’re sharing wine instead.

They sit in comfortable silence. Steve has the sudden thought that if it wasn’t for the impending everything, he could pretend like it’s a lazy Saturday, where they’re free to do harmless, juvenile things, like just watching movies all day. Like sharing frosting out of the can.

“God, you’re so unbothered by all this, aren’t you?” Eddie says around his spoon, which makes Steve suspect that perhaps their thoughts aren’t exactly aligned at the moment. “Steve Harrington. Mister Cool.”

He says it softly, a little like Robin had—and Jesus, Steve thinks, did everyone in school have such an idea of him?

“Unbothered, meaning?”

Eddie shrugs. “Alternate dimension. Real life monsters. Uh, I dunno, the potential end of the world? Take your pick, man.”

Steve thinks for a little while, scrapes the bottom of the can repeatedly even though they’ve already eaten it all.

He doesn’t know how to say that over the years, fear has become normal, a reassuring background noise. It’s when he doesn’t feel it that he’s really, truly scared shitless.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve says, “I think we all just got so used to it, that—”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Eddie interrupts with a huff of a laugh. “If I think about it for too long, I might actually cry for you all, Steve.”

“Nah, don’t do that,” Steve says lightly—though he thinks that a part of Eddie really means it. “It’s more like… like I’m a duck, y’know? Calm on the surface, but…” He drums on the table in demonstration. “Freaking out underneath.”

Eddie’s looking at him with a little smile Steve thinks he hasn’t quite seen before—almost like he’s charmed.

He wonders just how many smiles Eddie Munson has. Wants to have enough time to find out.

“And you’re like an upside down duck,” Steve says, matter-of-fact.

Eddie snorts—another smile, wide and bright. “Excuse me?”

“Like, you might think you’re freaking out on the surface, but underneath, when it comes down to it, you’ll be…” Steve moves his hand in a straight line, imitating a duck calmly gliding along.

Eddie shakes his head. “Think you’ve got too much faith in me.”

And sure, it’s said like it’s a joke, but Steve holds his gaze when he replies seriously, “No, I don’t think so.”

You think I’d trust Dustin with just anyone? I saw you pull him back from the edge of the lake. That’s all I need to know.

Eddie glances away almost like he can see Steve’s thoughts dancing in front of him, as if the honesty is too much to witness.

“Plus you’re, like, my guide for what’s a normal reaction to all of this shit. You’re good for us, man. Keeps us grounded.”

Eddie laughs again. “Christ, I’m the guide for what’s normal. God help us all.” He drops his spoon into the empty can with a clatter. “It’s getting late. We’d better, uh. Round up the troops.”

He stands up, shuffles out from the table.

And Steve finds himself standing, too, with the sudden fear that he’s watching a window close before him.

He reaches for Eddie’s wrist—just two fingers, barely a touch—and Eddie turns to him immediately.

“Hey, Eddie, you’re—you’re good with them, y’know? The kids.” Steve laughs quietly. “God, they’d be… scared far sooner without you. When you were messing around with Dustin, and… Jesus, it’s the most I’ve seen Max laugh in a… in a while.”

Eddie’s smile turns gentle. “Nah, man. Any fool could do that.”

“No,” Steve says.

No, don’t you get it? Only you could. We’re all… we’re better with you, happier with you. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else. Please fucking understand how important you are.

You matter.

Eddie’s eyes flicker across Steve’s face. Like he’s understood without Steve having to say a word.

“Careful there, Harrington,” he murmurs.

Steve’s suddenly aware that he still has one finger on Eddie’s wrist. “What?”

Eddie stares at him. Shrugs with one shoulder, but it’s slow. Thoughtful.

“Just thought I’d get ahead of you, in case…”

“In case?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, abruptly sounds a little breathless. “Could be the end of the world, right? And you’re…” He glances over at the frosting can, smirks slightly. “You’re kinda under the influence. Don’t want you saying anything you wouldn’t mean in any, uh, normal circumstances.”

Fuck normal. This is my normal.

“And what if I meant it?” Steve says.

Eddie swallows. Calm on the surface.

“If you’re sure,” Eddie says slowly, eyes never leaving Steve’s face. “Then… go ahead.”

Steve steps closer.

Kisses him.

Eddie’s mouth tastes sweet from the frosting. Steve can feel it when he laughs, can feel him shaking from where he’s leaning up against the edge of the table.

He pulls back. “You okay?”

Eddie’s smile is tremulous, like he’s one second away from crying.

“Freaking out,” he says, but he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so Steve knows he’s not referring to…

“Yeah,” Steve admits. “Yeah, me too.”

Eddie laughs breathily, and the sound is enough to finally drown out the background buzz of terror. He’s so close Steve can count every eyelash.

“You’d never know, Steve.”

“Think this—” A last kiss, pressed to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Think this is the most scared I’ve ever been.”

“Me too,” Eddie echoes.

And just before he pulls Steve along, just before he opens the RV door and calls for everyone, he leans in close, whispers against Steve’s lips:

“Worth it.”

#forever compelled to write missing scenes before the battle. on a missing scenes kick in general thqh ❤️#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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erwinsvow · 7 months

Text

“what’s this?” you ask, eyes wide and that pretty smile he likes so much taking over your features. “am i forgetting something?”

like always, you’re hesitant to accept it. no matter what he gets you—fancy dinners at the club, pretty shoes that you keep eyeing at the store, ice cream after one of your frequent dates—you get shy about having him spend money on you. you’re real cute about it, he thinks, when you twirl around wearing the dress from today’s trip before dinner, showing him your new outfit.

you pick up your flowery heels and carry them in your hand when the two of you are walking along the beach. “i can’t get them dirty, rafe!” is what you tell him when he looks at you like you’re crazy, making your face heat up. he carries them for you the rest of the way.

you cling to his arm, staring at the new bracelet and enjoying the way it shines in the sun, moves down your wrist when you hang onto rafe. he catches you staring at it all throughout the day, whenever you think he’s not looking. jokes on you—he’s always looking at you.

“open it,” he says back, wanting to see your reaction. rafe’s gaze is always intense, but it feels even more so right now, your heart thudding fast in your chest.

“wait, rafe, what did i forget?” “nothing, kid, just open it.”

“i didn’t take you for the type to celebrate monthiversaries.” you rustle through your purse, suddenly feeling nervous, pulling something out and offering it to him on your palm. “all i have for you is.. a pack of gum and some lip gloss. but i think this shade would look great on you, do you want it-”

he rolls his eyes, shoving your hand down so the items in your hand fall.

“stop being a brat and just open it, before i take it back.”

big eyes watching him, you unwrap the yellow ribbon, taking a second to admire it before you notice rafe’s stare, causing you to put it aside and lift the little white box. inside is a pretty, sparkly chain with a cursive R pendant hanging from it.

you look up at rafe and then down at the necklace, confusion twisting over your face. your breath catches in your throat, eyes getting watery immediately.

“you like it?” he asks, voice low and serious. when he brings his hand to your chin to lift your face up so he can take a look at you, tears overflow and spill down your cheeks. he balks, panicking. “what, kid? did i get the wrong color or somethin’?”

“rafe-” you say, voice quiet and whimpery, choked up with your crying. you pull him into a hug, crawling into his lap, softly sobbing into his neck. he’s scared shitless for a second, wondering what the hell he did wrong because he thought you would love it—since you’re always blabbing on and on about how you like it when he marks you up and everyone knows who you belong to. he rubs your back and strokes your hair, wondering if he can take it back to get you one you’ll like, when you pull away to give him a hot, wet kiss. it goes on for minutes, your hands in his hair and his hands on your hips.

“wait, so you, you like it?”

“i love it, rafe.” you lean back in to finish the kiss. when you pull away, you’re not smiling like you usually are. “but this is too much. you’re spending so much on me-”

“because i want to,” he interjects, eager to not let you finish your sentence.

“it’s not okay,” you whine, trying to pull away but rafe holds you firmly in place, still in his lap. “what’re people gonna think if they see-”

“who cares what they think? ‘cause i don’t. if i wanna get something shiny for my girl, i’m gonna. no one’s gonna stop me, not even you.” he watches you take in his words, eyes wide and little head spinning. “now be a good girl, let me put it on.”

you comply automatically, like always, turning around and holding your hair up so he can put the necklace on easily. your body shivers at his touch, almost starts shaking when he clips the necklace into place and presses a kiss to the back of your neck, if he wasn’t holding you tight.

“now, what'd you say?”

“thank you, daddy.”

#....#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #self indulgent.... no.... never... couldnt be me

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l4long-winded · 2 months

Note

jealous lip……lip hears that you got a date with some dude that's taller than him, hotter than him, probably more mentally stable than him. and lip is tearing him apart. "heard he's got stds, probably don't wanna fuck him." "he's a cheater." "just hang out with me tonight." "y'know he's a player?" "he's no good for you, he's fuckin' ugly-"

and he persists and persists until he either pisses you off or gets in your head enough to change your mind. or even threatens your date to ghost you. and he feels a little bad, seeing your little pout and how "i dunno, i thought maybe someone finally liked me this time" and he's biting his tongue, genuinely clawing at the walls at the admission, thinking no one could love you when he's right there

he takes your mind off it, casually sitting too close to you as you watch a movie, encouraging you to maybe let him hold you a bit. or maybe take your mind off it in a different way, sitting you on his cock and fighting the urge to cum too soon because this is all he's fantasized about, his best friend bouncing on his dick, whining his name so prettily. and he's fighting the urge to tell you that this isn't casual, that he loves you and wants you so badly -🌟

oh, yeah, he absolutely tries to talk you out of it. because a date? with someone that's not him? what the fuck are you even thinking right now?

he tells the fucker to back the hell off whenever you don't change your mind and persist about going out with him anyway. lip recruits the help of mickey and ian to scare him shitless (more so mickey who's game for it as long as he gets a case of beer and ian begrudgingly tags along because his brother's infatuation with you is not lost on him for a second).

lip is more than happy when you tell him the news one day after walking you home from work. you're disappointed, teary-eyed, and he regrets it as soon as the first thick bead of salt rolls down your cheek. he hates when you cry. he hates it so much. it makes him nervous. his smirk disappears, an arm looping around your shoulders.

"come on, brat, don't make it such a big deal. guy's a piece of shit. i told you that."

"i know," you say through a shaky voice, breaking his fucking heart. "i just thought..."

"... thought what?"

"i thought that... fuck," you sniffle, "i thought someone actually liked me for once."

you poor thing. he feels so guilty. he wants to tell you how untrue that is. this isn't the first asshole he's told to get away from you and it won't be the last. lip is selfish. he wants to keep you all to himself and the confession of his feelings rests on his vocal chords. only, it never comes out. he just tucks you into his side like a coward, comforts you knowing he's the reason your pretty face is shedding tear after tear.

you want to lie back in bed. he suggests taking you out for food or maybe a long walk, but you refuse. so, he turns a movie on, one he knows you'd like, some chick flick that you usually have to beg him to watch. but you're barely paying attention.

as he leans into your frame, he finally leans his forehead into your shoulder defeated.

"what can i do? i don't like seeing you so sad... talk to me."

"lip, i wanna forget about it, okay? don't bring it up."

he bites back a frigid reply. you're hurting. it's his fault, and you don't even know it, so he feels like he owes you it.

"fine," he mumbles, sitting up, tugging on his sweatpants.

"w-what're you doing?" you ask as you sit up yourself, blinking in deep confusion as he starts to reach for your sleep shorts.

"helping you forget. want me to stop?"

lip's hands curl into your waistband. his heart is racing so fast right now he's positive it's about to hurl up his throat. when your head shakes no, he finds himself so relieved.

it's what led you to this. the notebook playing in the background, long forgotten as lip watches you ride him, his name falling off your mouth over and over again, taking your pleasure from him.

he's dreamt of this. imagined it a million and one times. it's so much better than any of his daydreams, than any of his hopes and wishes. he revels in it, pets your hips, bucks up into you because fuck, you grip his cock tighter when he strikes that spot deep inside of you. he targets it, a man possessed as he fucks you, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave behind bruises.

you moan regardless, hands falling onto his chest. god, he needs this. he's always needed it. it's nirvana. every clench and whine, it's so perfect. he's so close, but he holds off to make this last, to fix his errors, bites his bottom lip because all he wants to do right now is tell you how much he fucking loves you.

he stops himself, flipping the two of you over, taking over with heavy thrusts. lip prevents himself from muttering his affection, biting against your neck, groaning whenever he feels your release soak him.

"need this cock, brat? can you take more for me?" he leans up, and then he realizes you're crying again. but tears of pleasure and overstimulation, his cock twitching inside of you whenever you nod your head frantically.

he's going to fuck you all night into the morning... to help you forget, of course...

#l4l.writes #l4l.lip #lip gallagher blurb #l4l.blurb #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #🌟 anon #YOU FUCKING COOKED #senD ME MORE #i LOVE YOUR BRAIN SO SO SO MUCH #ESP LIP X BEST FRIEND READER

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petrapalerno · 8 months

Text

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian: #1

Signing up for an alien breeding program should be scary, considering the aliens are ruthless barbarians. On the upside, they won’t hesitate to give it to you as rough as you like it.

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian is part of a smutty novella collection, Petra Palerno’s Filthy Shorts, that features otherworldly love interests.

In this installment, you’ll find: alien romance, size difference, double dongs, submission, bratting, breeding, will it fit, rough play and pregnancy.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, fisting, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence, birthing, science fiction medical procedures and murder.

PREORDER NOW!

The heat radiating from the crowd, along with the smell of sex, hits me in the face as the door clicks open and the pilot bot dumps me unceremoniously into the dirt.

My heart thuds in my chest, but it’s not the excitement I thought I would feel.

I’m scared shitless.

But this is what I wanted, this is what I signed up for.

“Mates needed for Volkroth spawning season. All expenses paid for biologically compatible species.”

You wanted someone to be rough with you, to be a fucking barbarian with you.

Maybe it was too much to expect an orientation before being dropped off at the spawning pits. I figured after the extensive medical testing to ensure biological capability, they’d ease me in.

I was so wrong.

Besides the chorus of fucking masses that surround me, there’s the guttural noises of males as they slam their fists into each other’s bodies.

Something I didn’t realize from the holo communication is that the aliens are fucking huge. They tower over me as one purple brute rips the other male off a yellow alien female, who arguably looks like she’s having a great time. She even laughs as the male turns and clocks the attacking alien on the jaw.

His bones snap, sounding like a lightning-struck tree, as he crumples to the ground. I’m not sure if the breaking noise was his jaw or his neck—but I don’t think anyone cares.

They’re barbaric! They kill soldiers deemed too weak to fight. How could you want to mate a Volkroth? My roommate’s disgusted face flashes in my mind as I wonder if the alien on the ground is dead or not.

“If you’re too weak to fight, you’re too weak to carry on the bloodline,” the victor yells.

The last male standing drips with the perspiration of sex, his body slick and shining. Unlike the one I saw on the holo comm, he’s completely nude.

More importantly, the big beast has two massive cocks resting on one heavy set of balls. They twist around each other, almost looking like they’re prehensile. I must gasp, because I draw his attention.

I scramble to stand when the alien’s eyes fall on me. His thick black hair, falling free of his topknot, spills over the four horns. There are two on either side of his head that curl proudly away from his face.

“A human?” He almost laughs as he says it. “I’d have thought your kind too soft, too exotic to be in the spawning pits with the rest of us.”

His voice is deadly smooth as he approaches me, a predator stalking his prey.

I freeze, even though my brain is screaming to flee, that I shouldn’t let this monster near me.

But there’s a broken part of my judgement that wants him to grab me by the neck and fuck me into the dirt. So I stay still, stuck between two desires, my heart in my throat.

I crane my head up to look at him. He moves one very deliberate step closer. He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face.

His eyes darken, and he licks his lips.

“You should run.” His voice is almost a whisper as it leaves his mouth.

The logical part of my mind wins, and I bolt. But I don’t have time to worry about where I’m running to. His huge hand shoots around my midsection, pulling me back against his body.

His enormous cocks strain against my ass, the thin fabric of my jumpsuit doing nothing to protect me from the heat of his body. He brings his free hand up to my neck and squeezes rough fingers against the column of my throat. It sends sparks down to my weeping pussy and I squirm in his hold.

“I want you full and dripping with my seed, and only mine, human,” he breathes into my ear.

I bite back a moan.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You want a beast to breed you, to make you submit?”

“Yes,” I manage to eek out. The first words I’ve spoken on this planet are to agree to be some space barbarian’s plaything.

His hand rips the neckline of my jumpsuit, exposing my breast to the planet’s humid air. My nipples pebble instantly as he drags his rough hand over the sensitive flesh.

The hand on my neck weaves into my hair, grabbing my ponytail and yanking my head further back until my cheek rests against his. His stubble rubs my cheek raw.

“How do you want it?” he asks.

“Rough,” I groan as his fingers pinch my nipple. I arch my back, searching for some friction as my hips lift. I want him to fuck me.

Suddenly, there’s a flash of pain and I yelp as his hand comes down hard, sharply smacking my tit.

“Can you handle rough, with all this softness?” His palms smoothes over the agitated skin of my red breast, the stinging melting into something blurred with an intense pleasure.

“Only one way to find out,” I say, with some shocking boldness. “Fuck me.”

His breath catches at my change in tone.

This is what I wanted. My body sings with joy. I want him to use me; I want him to fucking breed me.

I look back at the alien, and his brows knit. A look of resolution crosses his face.

“I won’t share you,” he says before throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #petra palerno #STTABshort

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annwrites · 3 months

Text

how the hell are we going to get through this, baby?

— pairing: gale cleven x wife!reader x john egan

— type: one-shot (for the moment being, at least)

— summary: you, gale, & john are in a polygamous marriage & you share one last dance with them before they're shipped off to war.

— word count: 2,251

John takes a sip of his beer, then looks at you, or, rather, the back of your head. Your beautiful head of hair, soft and loose. He dreads the idea of tonight being the last time he'll ever touch it—you. His girl, his sweetheart, his wife, his goddamn everything since you were five-years-old, and he and Gale six.

He smiles when you throw your head back, laughing at whatever joke your friend, Marie, has just told you.

"How the hell are we supposed to leave her here all alone like this?" John asks.

Gale turns his head in your direction, leaning back against the bar, forearms braced on either side of him. "We don't have another choice."

John shakes his head. "She's going to fall apart when we leave. She won't be able to properly look after herself once we—"

Gale interrupts him, his head turning in his direction. "She's not some China doll, John."

"She's fragile. And too damn gentle. Since we were kids, there's barely been a day where she's had to live without us. The hell do you think she'll do if one of us—or even worse, both of us—come home to her in a casket?"

A muscle in Gale's jaw feathers, and he takes another drink of his beer. "It's why I married her, John. To make sure she got my pension incase—"

"Some monthly check isn't going to fucking hold her at night, or—"

Gale turns himself back around, not wanting the entire room to witness the argument that's about to erupt between the two of them.

One last good night, that's all he'd asked for. And yet, John's stubborn ass can never be bothered to just go along with things.

"What the hell would you have me do, Bucky?"

John turns back around to the bar as well, resting his forearms atop it. "We should've never enlisted."

Gale's long fuse suddenly grows a great deal shorter then. "It's not like it was some spur-of-the-moment decision. We talked about it, all three of us. We decided it was the right thing to do. She gave us her blessing."

John lets out a chuckle with no humor behind it. "Because you think she'd ever tell you no?"

Gale leans in toward him then. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Everything she does is in hopes of pleasing you. And you have her wrapped right around your finger, don't you? That's why it's your ring that she's wearing." His tone has turned resentful.

"She's wearing yours, too. I'm sorry that polygamy isn't legal in the US. Why are you making everything my fault?"

He wasn't going to admit it out loud, but it hurt. His best friend, a man he shared a home, a life, a marriage, and a woman with treating him so lowly. And on their last night here—at home—at that. You were one half of him, John the other. But this disdain—believing you have a favorite between the two of them—wasn't a new development.

Finally, John sighs, softening. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared shitless. For both of us... For her."

They're both quiet for a moment, then John speaks again. "We should've tried to get her pregnant, and not stopped until she was."

Gale lets out a low swear. "You think that'd really help her? We get her pregnant so she can go through nine months of maternity all alone, neither of us there to hold her hand, or take care of her. And what if something happened? What if she miscarried, or—"

"Jesus Christ, why do you have to jump to the worst possible conclusion? She's too damn maternal not to be a mother, Gale."

"I'm not saying she isn't. But now isn't the right time. If you think losing one of us would tear her apart, losing a baby—our baby—would kill her."

John goes silent then. Before he glances back to you. "I just wanted to leave her with something. Some part of us to get her through this so she wouldn't be all alone."

Gale places his hand firmly on his best friend's shoulder. "She won't be alone. She has our folks."

He briefly wonders if this is really about leaving you with some part of them, or John leaving a piece of himself in the world if he doesn't live through this war.

He doesn't dare ask.

Finally, John stands, draining the last drops of his beer before walking over to his new bride.

Their bride.

You and Marie both look up at him as he comes to stand in front of you. "What's a guy got to do to get a pretty girl to dance with him around here, huh?"

You beam at him and it makes his heart jump.

"You just have to ask."

He pretends to balk. "That's it?"

You continue looking up at him, cheeks flushed, doe-eyes full of love and adoration.

He bends forward then, toward you, as he extends his right hand. "Well, then, miss, would you do the honor of giving this soldier one last dance?"

Marie sits by, watching with idle curiosity at your exchange.

You place your delicate hand in his own—your right one, which wears his ring—before standing.

John leads you over, into the middle of the room and spins you out before pulling you in close to him, until your chests are touching.

He places his right hand firmly against the small of your back as your left comes to rest upon his shoulder. He holds your other at chest-level as you begin to dance.

John presses his right cheek against your hair, closing his eyes for a moment. "How the hell are we going to get through this, baby?"

Tears sting your eyes, but you force it down. You won't cry. Not tonight. Not here, at least. You want this evening to be perfect.

You pull back far enough to look him in the eyes, running your fingers through his hair. "I wish I knew the answer."

You glance behind him, at Gale, who's watching you both with a small smile on his face.

You then continue. "This—all of it—both of you going off to war, having no idea how long that will be, what it will be like, all of us being apart for more than a couple of days for the first time in well over a decade... Not knowing...not knowing what the future holds..."

You trail off and have to take a moment to calm yourself before you turn into a shaking, sobbing mess.

John simply presses a firm kiss to your forehead, allowing you a moment to breathe.

Your eyes meet again and he picks up where you left off, looking down at you, his eyes full of surety. "We're going to get through this, sweetheart. We're going to get through this war, come back home to you, and then our lives together truly begin."

You desperately wish you had his optimism. In truth, you hope desperately that he's right, but more and more lately, you were doing your utmost to make yourself understand that their mutual survival...it may not come to pass. And that thought makes you feel sick.

If you lost both of them, you wouldn't bother trying to go on another day. They'd both made you swear and swear that you wouldn't even consider such a thing. And you had lied magnificently. Told each of them exactly what they wanted to hear. But you knew the truth of it in your heart.

John has his lips pressed to yours, kissing you long and deep, when a relaxed baritone voice interrupts you.

"Mind if I cut in?"

John finishes your kiss slowly, gently, before looking at Gale, who stands but a few inches from the two of you, hands in his pockets, looking at the two of you with so much love and warmth.

John chuckles, eye sparkling. "Trying to steal my girl, Cleven?"

Gale shrugs, a sly grin coming across his face. "Every chance I get, Egan."

John presses one last quick kiss to your hair, before stepping aside, whispering something into Gale's ear, which causes him to laugh out loud, then head back up to the bar.

Once Gale has taken John's place, you look up to him, an amused look on your face. "What was that about?"

Gale shakes his head, looking back at the man in question, a toothy grin on his face. "Nothin', darlin'."

He looks down at you, then.

"Was it about me?" You ask with a raised brow.

He chuckles. "Wouldn't you like to know."

You 'accidentally' step on one of his feet, causing him only to smirk down at you.

You bat your eyes at him. "Oops."

He gives a small nod of his head. "Starting to think that John's pickin' on you for all those years when we were kids is starting to rub off."

You grin, shaking your head.

He then leans in toward you to claim a kiss.

You try to sear the feeling of his lips against your into your memory. How slowly and passionately he kisses you, the taste of him, how he flicks the tip of his tongue against your lips, asking for entry, which you quickly give him.

When he pulls away, your cheeks are flushed and lips swollen. You lie your cheek against his chest and he rests his chin atop your head.

You still when you notice two officers at the front of the room, looking at the two of you, chatting with each other, shocked and confused looks on their faces.

You look up at Gale and he reaches down, brushing a loose strand from your face.

"Those men are staring at us."

He shrugs, not even bothering with asking 'whom', before he replies "let 'em watch".

"You might be serving alongside them."

He gives you another kiss. "And?"

You sigh. "You know your fellow soldiers are going to talk about their girls, then ask about yours. About John's. What're you going to tell them?"

He's looking at you with mild amusement, like you should somehow already know the answer. "The truth, I guess."

You're surprised by his answer.

The two of them seemed to stop caring a long time ago about what others do, or even might think about them. You still find it difficult to at times. You want to reach the same level of surety about your marriage—it still feels so strange to even think about it as that now—that they both have.

"Oh."

He cups your cheek in his palm. "The only two people whose opinions I care about are yours and John's. Nobody else gets to have one, not when it comes to us." He brushes the pad of his thumb along your lower lip. "Alright?"

You nod.

He kisses you once more before you lie your head back against his chest, this time facing in John's direction.

"Promise me you'll both take care of each other. That you won't let any stupid fights or squabbles get between you."

He replies almost instantly. "With our lives, honey. You know that. Won't be time for fighting each other when we'll have enemies on all sides that we'll be doing that with."

You nod. "Are you scared?"

He's silent for a moment, and that silence alone gives you your answer.

"Think I'd be stupid not to be. I know a lot of these boys are hoping to go off to Europe and become heroes, not wanting to acknowledge that they may not make it back in one piece, if at all. I'm just trying to keep my head out of the clouds and my expectations reasonable."

He begins rubbing one of his palms soothingly against your back.

"And John?"

"We haven't spoken much about it."

Because they're both scared, you think. They both put up such brave faces in front of you—for you—but you can read each of them like the back of your hand.

You suddenly feel a second body pressing itself against your back, strong arms wrapping around you, and your eyes flutter closed as you smile softly, happily, as the two of them hold you between them.

You will this night to last—both your husbands holding you, loving you, making you feel utterly safe and secure—because the thought of coming back home to an empty house tomorrow once they've both gone...

You squeeze your eyes more tightly shut, fighting back tears.

You're grateful they'll have each other, but who will you have to lean on? Who will hold you when you wake up in a cold sweat, crying and trembling as you fear the worst? Who will reassure you, as you sit on the front porch, or by the window, waiting for the post—for any word from them—that everything is okay? That they are?

What will you have left if, when they return home, it's with flags draped over coffins?

"I love you," John whispers, breaking you from fearful thoughts of the absolute worst.

Gale leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "We both do."

You don't see as their eyes meet, John's jaw flexing as he attempts to conserve his tears for when you won't be witness to them and Gale giving him a reassuring nod, telling him that it's okay to feel whatever he's feeling.

"I love you, too. Both of you. Just...come back to me."

"We will," they both reply in unison.

You all three pray for it to be true.

#fic: mota (gale cleven x reader x john egan)#mota x reader #mota x you #mota x y/n #mota fic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #gale cleven x reader #gale cleven x you #gale cleven x y/n #mota imagine

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szasfuckingwife · 1 year

Text

CANDY

TOJI FUSHIGURO x FEM!READER + MEGUMI

WARNINGS: FLUFF, megumi is a kid, megumi initially doesn’t like y/n, cute ending

A/n: i love kid megumi he’s SO CUTE omds

“Gumi!” You jumped as you saw the small dark haired boy on the way back to Toji’s bedroom.

You and Toji had been dating for a mere seven months and things were going great. I mean, not every relationship makes it this far- especially when one of you has a child.

When you met Megumi, you were surprised on how quiet he was. Most five year olds run up and down the walls all while screaming the house down but Megumi appreciated silence. Where the other kids were playing outside in the sun, drenching themselves with water, Megumi liked to draw that very scene but just from inside.

Toji always thought it was a little strange but never questioned it. He thought that this was what he gets for giving his mother hell when he was a child. The first thing Toji told you about his son was, ‘Well…he’s different from most kids.’

You knew that Megumi’s mother had passed and those shoes were unimaginably huge shoes to fill. So, you took your time with him. You rarely stayed the night, you only took him out on the weekends, you tried to elongate your conversations the more you spoke. Not only did you want a relationship with the child, but you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea that you were his mother’s replacement.

But the kid seemingly wasn’t a fan.

So, when you bump into him in the dimly lit hallway, you’re scared shitless.

“Gumi, what are you doing up?!”, you nervously chuckle. The child looks blankly at you, as if he thinks you’re the dumbest person to ever walk. “It’s far too late, you should be asleep.”

“Why are you here so late?” He asks, his voice was monotone. You chuckle again nervously, wishing Toji could wake up right now and try to explain things to his son.

You tightened your lips, “Ah…well…you see-”

However, your voice left you when Megumi walked away. You stood there in shock. Was it something you said? Was he mad that you were there when normally you’d be gone?

Deciding it’s best not to leave a child on his won at night, you follow him. It’s hard to see anything due it being night and nothing is lit up. But you figure that Megumi must have night vision or something due to the speed in which he walked.

You heard the back door open and every single fear came to mind. Immediately, you run to the door, panic laced in your every movement. Your brows furrow in the dark, trying to spot him.

“Megumi!” You yell.

But just then, you hear a tiny ‘shh!’ come from beneath you.

When you look down, you’re met with a sight that warms your heart.

Megumi strokes the head of one of the two dogs on his lap. You see the plate of hot dogs resting beside him with a glass of milk. The dogs looked comfortable in Megumi’s arms, you could’ve swore you saw the dark one nuzzle into his touch.

“You’re being too loud!” Megumi whispered.

You found the courage to sit next to Megumi, even though this was the first time you and him have ever been together without Toji. “So…what do you have there?”

“Dogs.” He answers.

He’s witty, like his father.

You chuckle slightly, “Who’s their owner?”

Megumi shakes his head and sighs. “They don’t have an owner. Or a mama.”

In regret of your question, you look away. “Their mama must’ve been a good mama. They’re good boys. They listen, they’re calm. Well…sometimes. They bark at me if I don’t give them my toys to chew on.”

Your heart aches for the boy. Having to grow up without a mother must’ve been tough, not only for Toji but for him too. Toji has confided in you how tough not having Megumi’s mother around can be.

There are some things you just need your mom for.

“But I love them. They’re kind.” He says. “They always come when dad’s asleep. We always play fetch and hide and seek together. But today, I think they’re just tired.”

You find yourself smiling at Megumi. He’s extremely mature for his age. “I think my dad knows about them. He always says the ‘sh’ word when they poo in the garden.”

Megumi’s comment humours you, since you have heard the very same ‘sh’ word leave Toji’s mouth when he finds presents left by the dogs.

“Are you my new mama?” He asked you, finally looking directly at you. His question was scary. There was no right answer to give.

Do you say yes and let Megumi think that you want both him and his father to forget the existence of his mother? Or do you say no and let Megumi think that you don’t want to have him as a son?

“Megumi…I’m whatever you want me to be.” You reply. “Whether it’s a stranger, a friend, dads girlfriend, or someone that helps you look after the dogs at midnight.”

He looks at you attentively, “But all I know is that you are an amazing kid. And I’d be a lucky woman to have you as a son. I’m sure your dad agrees.”

“I know dad likes you a lot.” You nod. “And auntie Maki likes you.” You nod again, chuckling.

“I think my mama would like you.”

Tears sting your eyes as you look at him lovingly. For such a young boy, he’s so open and beautiful with his feelings. “I think I’d like her too.”

You see him nod and stand up, struggling to hold both dogs.

“Where ya going?”

“They’re stinky. I’m going to give them a bath.”

You are again left behind as Megumi walks away with unrealistic speed. A chuckle leaves your lips as you get up and chase after him, shouting out, “Wait for me..”

Toji’s in the car, driving you home with his son in the backseat. Again, Toji yelled out an expletive when he saw the poo left behind by the dogs. You remember Megumi smiling at you as Toji began to clean it up.

Toji finally pulls up as he reaches your apartment. He gets out first and you’re reminded that Toji would never let you open your own door if he’s around.

You get out of the car as Toji opens the door. You stare up at the raven haired man, noticing all the details him and his son share.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek in the meanwhile. You nod at him before kissing his scarred lips.

You wave to Megumi through the window, surprised when he actually waves back. “You see that? He’s starting to like me!”

Toji smiled at your amusement, giving you one more parting kiss. There was a sense of pride with seeing both his girlfriend and son starting that bond. If he’s ever done any wrong, Megumi and you are those little things that he got right.

As Toji got back in the car, Megumi sighed deeply before clearing his throat.

“Got somethin’ to say, lil man?” Toji looks at him through the rear mirror.

The boy nods, “I like Y/N.”

Mentally, Toji is screaming, jumping for joy as fireworks explode. But, in front of his son, he saves face, giving a small hum as a response.

“I like her too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #megumi fluff

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rookiesbookies · 9 months

Note

Pregnant brat reader here with a sfw req this time with the same cod men from before bc that was scrumptious

The men are in the nursery, cradling their newborn to soothe them. Reader walks behind them, kissing their cheek (or wherever she can reach) and she whispers “I just fell in love with you all over again.”

Can you tell I have severe baby fever atm

Oh its ok I get baby fever too. If I wasn’t still too young and trying to get a degree first, oh boy. I also get it every time I look at Neil Ellice’s face (Soap’s va/reference).

Lowkey you’re making me fall more in love with these boys, hope this is all you hoped for my loving anon.

To all my readers and anons- Keep requesting this account is my hobby LMAO

Price

Price is already softly crying but now you’ve made this man want to sob. He puts the baby down since it’s late, poor thing basically just got cleared to go home.

He kneels by the crib, finger still in the baby’s grasp as it sleeps and Price is just done for. He’s doing everything possible not to wake this baby. He’s so grateful he got this chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

Now Price is going to need soothing because his heart can’t take this moment. His hand is over his mouth to help him choke down sobs. Just you and him and now the kid he always dreamed of? He’s going to be the best dad and there’s nothing that can stop him.

Soap

It’s crazy how forgetting to put on a condom once can change your whole life.

He immediately plants a kiss back on your head, telling you to go get rest. He’s going to spend the first months of this baby’s life sleeping in the room with it. The faintest cry or struggle has him up. He’s already got it all planned.

Never going to make this life feel like an accident, no this child is an accomplishment of good sex and a wonderful choice to keep it. Maybe it wasn’t an accident after all, maybe it was meant to be.

He mumbles all kinds of thanks to the universe. He’s already named Simon and the rest of the 141 the godfathers, he couldn’t stop making mafia jokes. But now he has no jokes or witty comments, just love for his wife and his baby.

Ghost

Simon is scared shitless.

He lost his last family, he can’t lose this one too. He’s already updated the house’s security. But maybe he should upgrade it more. There’s so much more he can do, he can feel his heart rate rising.

He mumbled endless promises of safety. You have to remind him the live in the moment, that those are all things that he can do tomorrow.

Thats when he starts to get emotional. You can see it in how he squints before he pulled off his baklava.

This is one of two days that’s proven Simon Riley still exists somewhere in Ghost. This proves that Simon Riley didn’t die. This proves what Price told you when you married him, that Ghost was a fortress built to protect Simon.

Gaz

He’s been crying since the baby was born. It’s not sobs but to him this child is the ultimate testimony of your love. Of your marriage even. He still doesn’t believe it. His world now revolves around this baby.

He still doesn’t believe its his child. Sure it looks like him but would an angel like you truly grace him with this? After all the terrible things he’s done and seen in the midst of battle?

He plants a kiss right back, running his thumb over the cheek of the baby. He knows he has to put it to bed but can't he hold his kid a little longer?

He may just stay here, just for one night. Just with his kid. He has so many stories to tell. He has to introduce the baby to his team and his family.

He knows he has to wait, but he cant help it.

Konig

He still doesn’t believe it. His anxiety tells him it’s a trap set by the enemy, that he couldn’t be loved, that a woman wouldn’t want to have his offspring.

But that all melts away when he turns to see you. He’s holding a baby he was surprised your body could push out, he knows this child is his without a doubt because of its sheer size and weight.

He places fluttering kisses all over your face.

He mentions keeping the baby in your shared room, just so he can keep an eye on it he swears. Oh he promises it won’t disturb you he swears.

It wasn’t even an option to tell him no, he was already carrying the baby in on arm with a secure hold and the crib in another. He hasn’t taken his eyes off your baby for even a second and getting him to sleep will be another struggle.

Krueger

Sebastian isn’t crying, you’re crying. What do you mean there’s tears coming down his face? No, that's sweat, it’s really warm.

He never needed you to tell him you loved him at the start, but when you started to he realized his heart wasn’t made of stone after all.

Now he’s holding this little creature thats half you and half him and he’s just breaking down.

This is a second chance at life for him and he swears he’s going to do better than he started off with.

In your eyes, this murderer looks like an angel with the light seeping softly through the windows against him as he holds your sweet baby.

For the first time in a long time, he prays. He prays to not mess up and for protection for his family. Its soft, under his breath and you would barely hear it, but he prays.

Keegan

When the baby was born the whole team of ghosts showed up. It was a moment of pride.

He turns to kiss your lips right back as he walks over to the rocking chair. Oh he could get the baby a little mask and armor. Could be a mini ghost.

The team fell straight in love but none could love this baby more than Keegan.

And how he looks at you? Its like you hung the stars… which you did help him do, there’s lots of stars hanging from the nursery ceiling, but you gave him a baby. He would trade the sun for his little family, unafraid of turning nocturnal if it meant keeping this moment.

He mumbled about this meaning worth all the fighting. Promises to always come home falling from his mouth so easily.

Edit: im dropping this incase you havent seen it tol

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #captain john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #konig x reader #konig call of duty #sebastian krueger x reader #cod krueger #keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ

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writeonwhiskey · 9 months

Text

the skz house: ch 9

a/n: So excited to get this one out to you guys! I hope you enjoy it 😁Thank you again to @cloverstayy for the beautiful graphic 🩵 she's amazing and is on insta & tiktok under the same name.

edit 1/22/24 - I have changed a few things around, this was previously chapter 7, but will now be chapter 9. Stay with me people!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

Chapter Nine: Of Halloween and Hallways

It’s now approaching the end of your first month at the SKZ house. Hyunjin still has not pressured you to move further, but you have continued to explore each others bodies more. Whenever you’re with him, kissing and cuddling in bed, you both allow your hands to roam freely across each other. He’s made it clear that you have control of the reins with him. You enjoy the power—getting both yourself and Hyunjin worked up, kissing, touching, fondling, just to back off. Maybe Chan’s sadism is rubbing off on you a bit.

Speaking of Chan, your nights with him since offering your submission are always like rolling a 20 sided die. You might be teased, you might get fucked, he might be sweet, but more often he’s rough. He does seem to make some kind of effort to not come off as a dick, however there is definitely still a wall between you two. You feel more comfortable conversing with him, though it’s usually just small talk and nothing remotely deep.

Lee Know’s birthday passes on Wednesday, October 25th and everyone celebrates with dinner, drinks and dessert. You and Allie helped Felix bake him a chocolate cake (they wouldn’t let you add arsenic, which was a bummer).

It’s now Saturday, October 28th—the day of the Halloween party. The morning of is spent with everyone moving throughout the house making sure their appointed tasks are complete. As evening approaches, your excitement for the event grows—everyone has kept their final costume reveals a secret and you can’t wait to see what they have all come up with.

Your main goal is to have a good time and possibly, finally have sex with Hyunjin. But, oh, sweet girl, you have no clue what the night has in store for you.

6:00pm

All of the decorations and finishing touches have been put in place. There are spiderwebs and bats strewn across the ceiling in the living room, a couple skeletons are seated at the dining room table that’s surrounded by floating candles, severed hands and feet rest on surfaces throughout the home, spiders of various sizes adorn the walls, and there’s even an animatronic Pennywise in the in the guest bathroom guaranteed to scare people shitless, but, hopefully not literally as that will just be a nightmare to clean.

6:30pm

The kegs arrive and are carted off to the basement and backyard. You’re setting up the snack table, putting out the orange and black paper cups, plates, and napkins when you hear a commotion coming down the stairs.

“This is stupid,” the familiar voice of Lee Know grumbles and you immediately smile.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing a dress,” says Changbin.

Two weeks ago you challenged Changbin and Lee Know in beer pong—winner got to choose the others Halloween costume. You had Hyunjin on your team and came out victorious.

“I don’t look that bad,” comes the voice of Seungmin.

Seungmin you challenged in a game of pool, same stakes. You’re shit at it, but he sank the 8 ball early and thus, you had all of them right where you wanted.

You turn around to face the stairs as they finish making their way down and bring your hand to your mouth to cover your laugh. They really committed…and their assignees had obviously helped put their looks together, from the makeup to the faux cleavage.

“The Sanderson sisters have come to SKZ house,” Han announces, pointing and laughing at the trio.

Changbin is dressed as Mary—eyebrows drawn on pencil thin, lips crooked and painted red, with a black wig shaped like a witch’s hat. Seungmin is Sarah—thick, dark eyebrows and eye makeup and a long, blonde wig. And the beautiful Lee Know is Winifred—copious amounts of blush on his cheeks, red lipstick only on the middle part of his lips, red wig and, of course, the look wouldn’t be complete without the trademark buck teeth.

“BoooOOOOOoook,” he wails as he enters the living room and everyone fucking loses it.

7:00pm

You finally have a chance to shower and get changed into your costume. It took you a while to decide on what you would be, but Hyunjin suggested an idea to play off what Chan is going as and you went along with it.

With your dress, corset, fishnets, calf-high combat boots in place and make up complete, you make your way back downstairs. The regular lights have all been turned off so the house has a darker feel to it, but there are various purple, red, and orange lights throughout to compliment the decorations and mood.

Hyunjin is sitting on the couch and offers you a look of appreciation when he sees you. You can only giggle at his costume. He’s half-assed it, for sure, but he still looks adorable. He’s wearing his regular clothing and has a headband on with pink ears, a pink bow tie, and a pink pigs nose covering his own. He turns around to show you the squiggly tail hanging near his butt.

“Cute,” you tell him.

“You look way better,” he says, pulling you close and lifting his pig nose to kiss you on the lips.

You look around the living room and survey everyone’s costumes. Han is dressed as Jack Sparrow, Felix looks like a man being taken by an inflatable alien and Allie is dressed as an agent from ‘Men In Black’. Jeongin is Woody from Toy Story and Charlotte is Jesse, they’re adorable. Rhiannon has decided to play along with Seungmin and Changbin as the Sanderson sisters and dressed as Binx, wearing all black with cat ears and whiskers, she even popped in some yellow cat eye contacts.

You don’t see Chan though and you’ve been dying to know what he’s put together. You excuse yourself from the room and check for him in the kitchen, but he’s not there either so you make your way to the basement.

It’s dark there as well, but lights have been added to each step to prevent anyone from falling. The lighting in the room is purple and a projector casts various Halloween themed images against the walls in slow, spinning rotation.

Chan and Changbin have their back to you as they struggle to get the dry ice machine working.

“Need any help?” You ask, and they turn to look at you over their shoulder.

Changbin’s eyebrows raise at the sight of you, followed by a nod and thumbs up thrown in your direction before he turns his attention back to the machine.

Chan turns around to face you, smirking as he takes in your costume. The first thing you notice on him is the amount of skin showing on his upper body and the slash-like wounds that have been added to it. You look from his bare navel up to his eyes and arch an eyebrow. It’s definitely not what you had expected but holy fuck does the sight of him make you want to let him do despicable things to you.

In his ears he has one silver stud earring and the the other is shaped like a fang. On his upper half he’s wearing a furry, grey vest that has a hood with a realistic wolf’s head attached to it. On his lower half he has on a pair of black boots and low hanging, ripped black jeans with black Supreme boxers peeking above the top. His hands are covered in grey, furry gloves with nothing but his finger tips out.

“Little red, eh?” He asks, looking you up and down.

Your costume consists of a dress that is white at the top (frilly and off the shoulders) then turns red near your hips accompanied by a black bustier that’s squeezing your insides together and pushing up your breasts. A red cloak is also draped around your shoulders, tied in a delicate bow across your clavicle. The fishnets and combat boots add a sexy, grungy feel to the look.

You pinch the sides of your dress between your thumb and forefinger, extend your right foot back and curtsy.

9:30pm

You hate to admit that Seungmin was right. Actually, you would never admit that. However, telling people the party began at 7:30 ensured they actually started showing up around 8:30. Everyone is now scattered throughout the first floor, basement and backyard.

You start the night off with a shot to calm your nerves from being in the house full of so many people. You also can’t help but feel like a hostess, wanting to make sure the snacks and drinks are never empty. You make sure the best costume voting station has pens and paper. You refill bowls of chips. Changbin follows behind you as you refill the drink dispensers to slip more alcohol into it. You eye him carefully and shoo him away from the one dispenser clearly labeled as non-alcoholic. Not everybody wants to get shitfaced tonight.

When you’re not playing hostess, you float around from room to room. With all the housemates here, you always have someone to wander off and talk to, which is comforting. You spend some time cheering Lee Know and Allie on as they reign over the beer pong table. You listen as Jeongin engages in a conversation with a group of girls, talking about needing models for an upcoming project. He has his arm wrapped around Charlotte’s waist as he addresses them, and she looks so out of her element, but leans onto him for support.

As far as you’ve seen, the boys really live up to the rule about not sleeping with anyone else outside of the house. Jeongin could probably pull any one of those girls in that circle, but he’s making it clear he has someone and is not interested.

Felix really did put himself in charge of the music and made a master playlist that’s blaring throughout the main floor. You spend some time with him in the living room, watching the people mingle and dance. Later you join Seungmin and Rhiannon in the backyard, sitting around the fire pit with a couple of others.

11:30pm

The house is fucking packed. With the music so loud, people’s conversations sound more like shouting matches. You take another shot with Hyunjin and snack on some of the Halloween-themed food that was catered. There are several giant, soft pretzels shaped like spiders, stuffed peppers that look like Jack-O-Lanterns, witch hat shaped calzones, white chocolate covered strawberries that look like ghosts, cheese wrapped with prosciutto and a green olive in the center to make it look like an eyeball. You’re delighted with the selections you and the girls made.

Eventually, you duck off from a conversation with Han (who, after two drinks is taking his role as Jack Sparrow a little too seriously), to head to the bathroom on the second floor. You bypass the yellow caution tape blocking upstairs to let everyone know it’s off limits, and head up. It’s dark and the lighting has been changed to red, making it feel extremely eerie.

Once in the bathroom, you quickly relieve your bladder and wash your hands. When you’re done, you stay inside for a bit longer than necessary, just needing a moment of silence. You can still hear the music bumping and people chattering, but it feels calmer in here. You lean against the counter, check your makeup and adjust your costume. The corset is tight around your chest—but it does look good. You bounce, tipsy enough to giggle at the sight of your boobs jiggling in the mirror.

There’s a knock at the door that snatches the laugh right out of you.

“Yes?” You call out, wondering who it could be. The girls would have walked right in, but no one else should be up here.

There’s no response, so you open the door, ready to tell off whoever it is.

“Second floor is off—“

The first thing you see is a wolf’s snout.

“What are you doing?” You ask Chan, shutting the light off to the bathroom. You place a hand on his chest and force him backwards into the hallway.

You move to drop your hand from his chest, but his fur clad hand stops you, keeping it in place.

“Just making sure nobody else was up here,” he shrugs.

He places his other hand on your waist and pulls you to him.

“Hmmm,” you hum, looking up at him skeptically. “Did you find anyone?”

“This costume,” he switches gears and releases your wrist, not allowing you time to call him on his bullshit. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but he’s not drunk.

His eyes trail down to your cleavage. He brings a hand up to trace lines back and forth across the top of your breasts with his finger.

“So you did wanna play dress up with me?”

Your eyes drop to his fingers touching you. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of saying yes.

“It was Hyunjin’s idea,” you reply.

“Oh?” He cocks his head to the side. “Those are two different wolves though—from the three pigs and little red.”

“And?” You counter.

His hand slides up from your breasts to your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. You are slowly growing accustom to the feel of this. You were shocked the first time he did it—there must have been an intense look of panic on your face because he eased up his grip and assured you he wouldn’t hurt you. It’s odd to think you trust him more sexually than in your everyday life, but he’s shown you enough when fucking you to let you know it’s all meant to be pleasurable in some way—sometimes for both of you, sometimes just for one of you.

“You guys never clarified what wolf I am,” he says.

His hand drops from your neck to yank down the fabric and reveal one of your breasts. You look down the hall, a look of shock plastered to your face, but there’s no one in sight. He doesn’t seem like he would care, even if there was. When your eyes meet with his again, he’s staring right back at you. Daring you to protest.

He pushes the wolf head off and it falls to his back. His dark, curly hair is stuck to his forehead after having it on for so long. You lean back instinctively as he lowers his head to take your nipple in his mouth and let out a surprised gasp.

“Chan,” you say, gripping his bare waist.

He swirls his tongue around your nipple and bites it, eliciting another gasp from you. He releases your nipple and stands up straight, cupping your breast as he makes a declaration you’ll never forget.

“I wanna be Red’s wolf.”

No smirk, no smile…it doesn’t feel like he’s joking or teasing you. Does he mean it?

Your hand shoots up to his neck lightning fast, pulling him down and crashing your lips to his. He spins you both around so your back is now against the wall as he kisses you. You roll your body, pressing your hips against his as his tongue clashes with yours.

He leans back for a moment, biting his furry glove with his hand to pull it off so his hand can feel you completely. When his lips are on yours again, his other hand takes hold of your neck once more, squeezing it as you slip your tongue in his mouth and he sucks it in further.

With his now glove free hand, he lowers it to rub at your fishnet covered thighs. His hand inches higher beneath the hem of the dress until it’s right between your legs. But then he freezes.

He breaks the kiss, still gripping your neck. His thumb rests on one side, pointer finger directly on your chin, and the other three are on the opposite side. He pushes your head up, pressing your head to the wall as you both catch your breath.

“Is shark week over yet?” He asks, cupping your pussy.

You start to repeat the phrase back to him, but chuckle as the realization hits you. The last three days you had been with him you were nearing the end of ‘shark week’ as he just called it. He had kept his distance, for the most part, aside from an impromptu morning blowjob before he trotted off to class on Tuesday.

“Yes,” you breathe in response.

His thumb and pointer finger squeeze your jaw, lowering your head and allowing him to recapture your lips. He resumes moving his other hand, hooking two fingers between the fishnets and the side of your underwear. He sucks on your bottom lip as his fingers rub your pussy, feeling how wet you are. He groans into your mouth as his fingers circle between your lips.

“I wanna fuck you so bad, Red,” he says, breaking the kiss once again.

He withdraws his fingers and brings them up to his mouth, popping them right inside and sucking your juices off. You watch him through lustful eyes, loving how fond he is of your taste. He’s not even remotely communicative with you but in these small moments you share, you understand all you need.

He pulls his other glove off and tosses it aside before dropping to his knees in front of you and bringing both hands to where the fishnets are at your crotch, poised to rip them apart.

“Chan!” You yell, grabbing his wrists. “I’ve only gotten to wear this for three hours, the party isn’t even over yet.”

“So?” He says, breaking his wrists free of your hands with ease.

“So, relax.” You say, taking hold of his wrists again. “And wait.”

He drops his hands and sits back on his heels, looking up at you. With only the red light illuminating the hallway, his gaze feels ravenous. Perhaps he does not like you telling him what to do. You second guess your word choice…maybe you should have added a please in there. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as his continued silence makes you anxious.

When his hands move back to your thighs, you don’t even try to stop him this time. Resisting is futile. You always give in to the pleasure. They slide up beneath the hem of the dress again, but instead of ripping them, he respectfully finds the waistband of the fishnets. His eyes never leave yours as he hooks his finger inside them and slowly pulls them down, dragging your underwear with it.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. So maybe he disregarded the part about waiting, but he did at least grant your request to not rip them. He has a smug look on his face, seeing your reaction. You avert your gaze down the hall, wanting to check that the coast is clear but also wanting to keep him from seeing how much of an affect a small act of kindness from him makes you feel.

The hallway is still empty.

You look back to Chan and pull your dress up and out of the way. He uses one hand to keep the fishnets and underwear pulled down as the other guides your leg over his shoulder. And as soon as he leans forward, taking your pussy in his mouth, you know you wouldn’t fucking care if the entire party walked up here right now.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you roll your hips, pushing your pussy against his face so he can properly devour you. The music downstairs is muffled, but still mostly drowns out the sound of him slurping you up. He replaces his mouth with his fingers, playing in your wetness. He uses his thumb to rub circles around your clit as you grip his hair with your free hand.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, pressing his thumb against you harder, watching your hips move in response. He slips his fingers inside of you and swaps his thumb and mouth again.

Your eyes snap open at his words and your hand forces his face against your pussy even more. You had already declared you belong to him the first time he fucked you. Hearing him say it, hearing him claim you drives you wild.

His fingers pump in and out of you rapidly as his tongue licks up and down your pussy. You put your head back against the wall, moaning at all the feelings. His fingers inside of you, his mouth on you, being in the hallway where anyone could come up and see you. But most of all, being his.

“Please, Chan,” you say, feeling so fucking turned on you think you might burst.

He detaches his mouth and stands up, causing your leg to fall from his shoulder, and reclaims your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips as his fingers keep thrusting into you. His other hand finds it way back to your neck, squeezing it harder than before.

“Please what?” He asks, lips pressed against yours.

You keep your eyes on his as your hips fuck his fingers back, whimpering. You reach your hands between you, undoing the button on his jeans and pushing the zipper down. You slip a hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grip his cock, feeling how hard he is.

“I need you,” you force out with his hand still around your neck and he grins.

He knows how he makes you feel and he loves it. Seeing you desperate and needy, begging him to fuck you.

Before he has a chance to, you see someone step onto the landing from the corner for your eye. The thought of being caught and the reality of it are two very different things.

Chan reacts so quickly, turning to shield you, lowering his hand from you neck to pull your dress up and cover your breasts. You drop your dress and pull your fishnets and underwear back up. You peek over his shoulder to see who’s come up.

It’s Han.

He sees you two, but he doesn’t say anything. He opens the door and walks into his room, but a moment later his head pops back out, adorned with his pirates hat and he throws a grin in your direction. You flip him the middle finger and he disappears fully into his room.

You press your head to Chan’s chest. Maybe he does care about people seeing you exposed and he just talks a big game. You don’t want to ask, though. He might just take it as a challenge.

You lean your head back to look up at him and he chuckles, wrapping his hand around your back and pressing your hips against his. You can still feel the bulge of his cock.

“Let’s go back downstairs,” you say, taking a step away from him as you come back to your right state of mind. You need to clear your head—maybe get another drink, maybe get some fresh air.

“Will you stay with me Sunday?” He asks suddenly, pulling his zipper back up.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to concede so easily, nor ask you to stay with him. You had yet to spend a Sunday with him. In all honestly, you didn’t think he cared much for you to be there. But maybe he’s only asking since he didn’t get to fuck you during the week and feels like he needs to make up for lost time or something.

“Maybe,” you reply.

Sunday is your day. It would mean a lot, to you, for you to choose to stay with him. What would it mean to him?

He buttons his pants as you pick up his discarded gloves from the ground and hold them out to him.

“Maybe?” He repeats skeptically, eyeing you as he accepts the gloves with one hand.

His other hand—the one that had been inside you—he brings to his lips and sucks his first three fingers into his mouth one by one. He’s silent as he puts the gloves back on, mulling over your answer.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay?” You repeat him this time.

The dark look in his eyes makes you feel as though it’s not okay.

“Sure,” his tone is now sickly sweet and you find it unnerving. “I’ll be back down in a sec.”

12:15am

The keg in the basement has been tapped already. Changbin and Chan work to move the one from the backyard down there with the help of a few other guys. It looks like a disaster waiting to happen and you don’t want to watch. You spot one of your friends that you stayed with after the breakup hanging in the kitchen and talk with her for a bit. You let her know you’re fine and have found a place to stay—sparing the specifics, of course.

1:00am

All the housemates and a good majority of the guests crowd around the living room as Felix MC’s, to hand out best costume awards. Much to your chagrin, Changbin, Lee Know and Seungmin win best group. Some guy dressed as Elton John in his bedazzled LA Dodger outfit wins most like the original. A girl with a literal UFO floating above her head and lights streaming down wins most creative. Sexiest female goes to a girl dressed as a skimpy Mario. Sexiest male costume goes to none other than Chan—he celebrates by taking two shots back to back. You’re close enough to notice a small dribble that’s trickled down to his abdomen and you’re tempted to get on your knees and lick it off in front of everyone.

After the prizes—gift cards and alcohol—are handed out, the crowd disburses throughout the house. You stay in the living room with Hyunjin and Felix as Felix gets the music going again.

Hyunjin wraps his arm around your waist, holding you to his side as Despacito plays. He’s smiling down at you with glossy eyes and you can tell he’s definitely had a couple cups of the Changbin-spiked punch.

“Dance with me,” he says.

“Hell no,” you spit back, shaking your head. “I’m not anywhere near drunk enough for that.”

“Well, drink up,” he says, moving your hand with the cup to your mouth.

You take a large gulp but still shake your head again. He takes the cup from you and finishes it off, sitting it on the table next to Felix. You protest as he pulls you to the middle of the living room where others are dancing. You’re struck with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face as he dances around you. He moves freely and easily to the beat, tongue caught between his teeth with a smile. He stops behind you and puts his hands on your hips, moving you from side to side with him.

He spins you in a circle, then brings you back against him, rocking his hips backwards and forwards to the music, guiding yours in sync with his, holding you firmly to him. You want to feel mortified, but you’re smiling and laughing. You’re enjoying yourself. As you always do with him. He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling your back flush against his chest and kisses your neck.

“Y/n?” You hear your name called and as your eyes snap up to the person who said it your smile immediately drops.

Your ex.

Hyunjin still has his arms around your shoulder, holding you against him, but he stops moving and looks up at your mood killer too.

“Who’s that?” He asks.

“My ex,” you tell him. He straightens up, but doesn’t remove his arms from you.

Your ex walks closer to you, not even glancing at Hyunjin behind you.

“Can we talk?” He asks.

1:45am

You’re hesitant. You don’t walk to speak to him, not now when you’re having such a good time. You also don’t want to cause a scene, though.

You tap Hyunjin’s arm around your shoulder and he releases you. You gesture for you ex to follow you and lead him through the kitchen to the backyard. There are people out here too, but it’s not as crowded. You fan yourself when you hit the fresh air—you hadn’t realized how hot it had gotten inside with all the people, combined with the alcohol and dancing.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks in an accusatory manner.

“Nothing?” You respond, not sure what he means.

“I saw you a few weeks ago with one guy, now you’re dancing up on some other dude?”

“You keep asking these questions as if you’re entitled to answers,” you snap at him. “You wanted to break up with me. You wanted to see other people. You don’t get to say shit about what I do.” You step closer to him and jab your finger into his chest each time you say ‘you’.

“Is this where you’re living now, then?”

You sigh, shaking your head.

“Listen, I think closure would be good here…but this is not the way.”

“I told you I wasn’t looking for closure.”

You let out a wry laugh.

“I’m not going to sit around waiting for you, if that’s what you’re wanting. I’m single. I’ll do whatever and whomever I want.”

His jaw clenches as he glares at you.

“And I have no intention of ever being with you again.” You add. “So, either leave me alone and enjoy yourself at the party or get the fuck out if that’s too hard for you to do.”

You throw your hands up at him and shake your head before opening the sliding glass door and walking back into the house. He follows you inside, grabbing you by the arm to stop you before you reach the living room. You turn to face him, snatching your arm back.

“So you give me shit about wanting to see other people, but now you’re living in a house with these frat bros?” He arches an eyebrow.

You shrug. He becomes more annoyed at your response.

“You’re fucking them aren’t you?” He spits, stepping closer to you, leaning down so you can hear him over the loud music. He grabs you by the arm again, dragging you to him.

You put a hand on his chest and struggle to push him away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. You’re certain the music is still blaring, but it suddenly feels extremely quiet.

“You’re fucking all eight of these squinty-eyed motherfu—“

Your fist connecting with his jaw cuts him off. You don’t know what’s come over you to react in such a physical way, but you’d be damned if you let him finish that sentence.

The next few moments happen in a blur.

He yanks you closer, seething, as he opens his mouth to say more disprectful shit. But someone wraps their arm around your waist and pulls you away from him and at the same time, someone else shoves your ex. Then Chan is standing between you and him, facing your ex. You can’t clearly hear what he’s saying over the music and the erratic beating of your heart, but they look to be exchanging some heated words. Your ex looks furious with Chan in his face, acting like the literal big, bad wolf.

You look back to see who’s grabbed you—it’s Seungmin. He’s holding you close, but his eyes are locked on Chan, waiting to see if he needs to get involved.

Hyunjin and Felix come into the dining room amidst the commotion. He walks behind your ex and places a hand on his shoulder. Your ex shoves his hand off, says one last remark to Chan then storms out of the room. Hyunjin follows behind him to make sure he leaves. Felix puts a hand on Chan’s chest to keep him from following. He forces Chan to look him in the eye to hear whatever he’s saying.

Changbin storms in, coming from the basement a little too late, but still looking ready for a confrontation. All while dressed as Mary Sanderson. The sight sends you into an immediate fit of laughter.

The partygoers go back to their own conversation as Changbin approaches you, Chan, Felix and Seungmin.

“Why didn’t you ride your vacuum?” Seungmin says to him. “You would have gotten here sooner.”

“He’s lucky I was late,” he huffs.

Chan turns away from Felix to face you and Seungmin releases you from his grasp.

“You okay?” Chan asks, softly.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, wiping at a stray tear as you regain your composure.

Chan lifts your chin up with a finger so you’re looking him in the eyes, possibly wanting to make sure the tears are from laughing.

You nod your head, reassuring him.

“Nice job, slugger,” Seungmin says, ruffling the top of your hair. You swat him away and wince as your hand comes in contact with his arm. He laughs at your pain. “I’ll get some ice.”

He disappears behind you towards the fridge.

Chan gently takes your hand in his and brings it up for inspection as you weakly wiggle your fingers.

“Can you make a fist?”

You squeeze your hand together the best you can but it becomes painful before you can make a complete fist.

You hear Chan take a deep breath. He closes his eyes, hand still holding yours.

“Tell me I shouldn’t go after him,” his eyes snap back open and they are brimming with rage.

“Don’t,” you plead.

“I wouldn’t lose,” he says, rubbing his thumb across your fingers. He’s here, physically, in front of you, but it seems like his mind is already out the door.

“He’s not worth it,” you shake your head.

He readjusts the wolf on his head and nods, as if trying to convince himself you’re right.

“Go to Seungmin, put some ice on it.”

He lets go of your hand and heads for the basement with Changbin.

3:30am

You’ve apologized profusely to the members and the other assignees, hoping the altercation with your ex hadn’t put a damper on the night. They assure you it’s alright—they all seem more concerned that you’re okay, and it makes you feel warm and cared for.

The house has mostly emptied, Seungmin and Jeongin are getting the last few stragglers out. Changbin and Hyunjin are supposed to be helping clean but Changbin, drunk off his spiked punch, is cradling Hyunjin’s face in his hands and loudly alternating between calling him the cutest piglet he’s ever seen and asking him to ‘oink’. Hyunjin is cackling, trying to squirm away from his touch, but he’s no match for Changbin’s strength.

Chan, Jeongin and Han come up from the basement and shut the light off behind them.

“Everyone’s clear from down there,” Han says, removing his pirate hat.

Chan has his arm around Jeongin’s neck as Jeongin supports his stumbling steps.

“…and that’s why you’re my baby,” Chan is saying to Jeongin.

“Okay, hyung, okay. I’m your baby forever,” Jeongin is smiling widely, amused.

He must not get to see their chapter president like this often.

You’ve never seen him like this.

“Y/n,” he says with a smile when his eyes fall on you.

He shakes free of Jeongin and walks to you.

“What did you do to him down there?” You ask.

“We had to keep him from going after that guy—he’s at least responsible enough to not drive drunk,” Han tells you.

His words give you some pause. You would never want to condone any further violence, but…had Chan been ready and willing to fight over you?

Chan hugs you from behind, head hanging over your shoulder.

“You should probably take him upstairs,” Felix says, taking the stack of paper plates you’ve amassed and tossing them into the trash bag he’s holding.

You step to the side and drape Chan’s arm around your neck, holding on to it with one hand as the other holds him by the waist.

He lets you walk him up the stairs, giggling to himself as he concentrates on taking one step after the other.

“Do not fucking fall. I’m telling you right now I can’t save you,” you warn him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he giggles again, putting his other hand on the rail to grip as he walks.

Once in his room, finally, you ease him onto his bed and he immediately splays out flat on his back. You kneel on the bed to get his costume off and he lets you remove his gloves, and vest without putting up a fight. However, when you get off the bed to place them on the dresser, he protests

“Come here with me,” he whines.

“You need to sleep it off, Chan.” You tell him, softly.

“No,” he pouts, sitting up on the bed, swaying. He looks like he’s concentrating every fiber of his being on holding steady. “Come here.”

There’s more demand to his voice the second time. You sigh and walk towards the bed.

“Don’t do that,” he chides.

“Do what?”

He mimics your sigh.

“Like you hate me or something. Don’t hate me,” he turns to look at you with sad eyes and pout once again firmly in place on his lips.

“I don’t hate you,” you tell him truthfully, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you sit next to him on the bed. “You’re just always so hot and cold with me. I don’t know how to be or feel when I’m around you. I’m in a perpetual state of conflicting confusion with you.”

You choose to be honest with him about your emotions. You do want him to know how it feels, but you also wonder if he’ll even remember any of this tomorrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning to the side to rest his head on your shoulders. “I have to be this way, y/n.”

You furrow your brow at his response. Why on earth would he have to be this way to you? You shake him off of you and he sits back up on his own, leaving his head hanging.

“Why, Chan?” You ask angrily. He doesn’t budge. “Chan. Look at me!”

Your sharp tone of voice causes his head to snap up.

“Why?” You ask again, softer this time.

“It’s just easier this way…I don’t think I cou—“ he starts but trails off and shakes head, unable to finish.

“Chan, please,” you plead with him. “How is this easier? Easier than what?”

He shrugs and places his head in his hand. A silence falls over the room as you wait to see if he will respond. He doesn’t, and it angers you.

“Why would you choose me,” you start slowly, “if you’re so determined to treat me like an object you own when everyone else in this house can be both friends and lovers, fuck buddies, whatever the hell you want to call it with their assignee. Why is it so fucking hard for you?”

“I couldn’t let you end up with anyone else,” he says, words muffled by his hands.

You sigh. Again. You’re desperate to know what he means, to get some kind of clue about why he keeps you at arms length. Why he wants your full submission but refuses to let you get closer to him. You wish he were sober. It's even more frustrating that even when he’s drunk, he’s not spilling out helpful information. It’s the most of an explanation you’ve ever gotten out of him, though, but talking to him like these feels useless. He’s too heavily guarded.

He looks up again and turns to face you.

“Stay with me tonight?”

What is he trying to do to you? It’s the second time tonight he’s asked you to stay with him. And the way he looks right now, annoyingly adorable, you want nothing more than to grant his wish. But it’s infuriating to think that this isn’t the real him. Or if it is, why the fuck can’t sober Chan be the same? If you give in to him like this, after he’s explained nothing yet expects everything from you, you will lose even more of yourself.

You find logical ways to justify your shared intimacy and lack of anything else, telling yourself that it’s part of the gig as an in-house stay. But what happens if you start to choose him and his behavior doesn’t change? Will you become upset if he continues to treat you the same?

“It’s Saturday,” you say finally, standing from the bed.

He pouts again.

“It’s Sunday, actually.” He corrects you.

He stands, taking a moment to catch his balance. He reaches for your hand and brings you towards him. He rubs his finger over the back of your knuckles. The pain from the punch earlier had mostly subsided after icing it.

You think back to Chan’s actions in the kitchen, how he immediately sprung to your defense. It’s as if he wants to be the only one who can get away with mistreating you.

“We’ll just sleep. Stay with me.” He asks again, bringing your hand to his mouth and placing a soft kiss on it. Your stomach flutters at the sight.

“No,” you say defiantly, shaking your head. “That’s not how it works.”

“It works how we decide it works,” he counters, placing his hands on your hips and looking down at you.

“No, Chan…not like this.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, dropping his hands from you.

He turns away from you and walks towards the corner of the room—to your bed. He grabs your pillow and hugs it to his chest as he walks back to his bed.

He’s acting like the cutest fucking brat you’ve ever seen and yet you still want to slap his face. How had his parents put up with this? Maybe shipping him off to the states for school had been in their best interest. He would have been a handful, and spoiled rotten. You can almost guarantee it.

He climbs into his bed, holding your pillow as he gets comfortable. You stand watching him. You want to go to him. You want to curl up behind him, to hold him. To share a bed with him for the first time. But you can’t keep setting yourself up for failure. If you do that tonight, what happens tomorrow? He won’t treat you any different and you’ll be upset you let yourself fall for it.

“Goodnight, Chan,” you say, turning for the door.

He grunts in response as you turn the light off and exit the room.

On your way downstairs, you stop to listen and see if anyone is still cleaning in the kitchen but it’s dead quiet so you continue to Hyunjin’s room. You make it back to the room and see he’s already knocked out. You contemplate waking him up but decide against it. Any mood you had for fooling around is gone.

You rid yourself of your costume piece by piece and climb into bed with Hyunjin in just your underwear and a shirt. His body adjusts to your presence, as it always does, and you snuggle in to him. What started as a promising night that could have ended with some fun—with either Hyunjin or Chan—turned out to be quite the opposite.

[ read chapter 10 here ]

a/n: I am struggling so much to keep Chan in check. I want him to just give in an be the bestest boy ever, but then it'll be a rush and the story will end sooner. So, let's ride this out together.

taglist: @iflmho / @skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #bangchan fanfic #stray kids #bang chan #skz smut #bang chan smut #bang chan imagines #bangchan smut #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n

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moeswriting · 1 month

Text

mine | 1. wondering why we bother with love

pairing: young!no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

chapter summary: a regular day at work turns into the beginning of something joel never thought would happen to him again.

chapter warnings: joel is 22 and reader is 20, mentions of a bad marriage and teenage pregnancy, reader is described a small amount (has hair, able-bodied, wears feminine clothing, is going to school for secondary english education, has a heavily-detailed background), joel being the single dad™, southern banter and teasing, fluff, joel being a flirt, baby sarah being her dad's favorite, if i missed anything let me know

word count: 3.6k (future chapters will be longer)

a/n: good lord, this got some attention!!! i'm so fucking grateful for it. really excited for you guys to read this. hope you like it. lemme know what you think. any reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

series masterlist | next chapter ->

read this chapter on ao3

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin'

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

✦ ✦ ✦

October 1994

At seventeen-years-old, Joel Miller found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It was startling and overbearing and horrifying and it made him want to scream at the sky, at God or whatever was up there and curse them for fucking up his life. He told Amanda that he was there for her, would do anything for her, but he was scared shitless.

At eighteen, he was holding a baby in the hospital with a ring on his left hand and thanking whatever was up there for bringing him a healthy baby girl to hold for the rest of his life. Maybe it was too soon, but as soon as he laid eyes on her, he knew. He knew he would love Sarah for the rest of his life and even beyond that. But, Amanda held her for a second and gave her back to him. He knew that she resented him– could tell by the way she fidgeted with the ring on her finger, pulling it off and then putting it back on, scowling at it when she thought he wasn’t looking. They moved into a small apartment near the college campus in Austin right before the baby was born. He could tell she hated that too. He knew he could grin and bear it, as long as Sarah got to have two parents.

At twenty, he came home from his job at the small diner across the street to their small apartment where his little girl was crying in her crib and a note sat on the counter that read, “I’m just not built to be a mother or a wife, Joel.” All of her things were gone. It was like she’d never been there at all.

That night, he held Sarah in his arms and cried. He watched her big, curious eyes as his tears ran down her face and soaked into her pink pajamas. He thinks maybe she knew what was going on– the toddler was always more ahead than he ever was. It only took a day for her to start begging for her mother, sobbing in Joel’s arms as he held her tight to his chest, hushing in her ear, trying to sing any lullaby he could think of. It took her two months to stop bringing her up at all.

By twenty-two, he’s a fully-functioning single dad. He has a stable job at the diner and does some contracting with his brother on the side. His mom helps him watch Sarah while he’s working– shows him pictures of her on her digital camera she insists on bringing with her everywhere when he gets back from work. There’s a wall in his kitchen dedicated to his favorites. He never stops thanking her for everything she does for him.

Sarah is growing beautifully. Her curly hair is a mess, but he’s trying his best to learn how to do it right. Amanda had always done it before– pigtails and braids perfectly set on her tiny head. But he finds that her thick hair is hard to tame on his own. He takes her to the salon downtown for them to do her braids whenever he can afford it. Her big brown eyes could make him do anything– she knows just how to work him with her wet, puppy dog stare and pouty lips. She’s up to his knees now. Everytime he comes home from work, she’ll run to him and crash into his calves and he can’t help but smile everytime she does it.

She’s his world, his everything.

It’s a Sunday morning. He always works Sunday mornings because the church crowd always tips well and today is no different. Sweat is dripping down his back from running around, and his brain feels like it’s split in half with all the orders stuffed in his head. The diner’s small enough that he’s only one of two servers working, despite how ridiculously busy it is, but he doesn’t mind. He can’t mind, really.

“Donald! Where’s my pancakes?”

The owner of the establishment’s balding head peaks out of the kitchen, as he yells back at him, “In your ass, Miller!”

“Hilarious,” he deadpans, pushing an order sheet back into the kitchen for Donald to grab, “Hurry it up, please. Mr. Cassini is starting to get hangry again.”

Donald laughs boisterously, “Oh, that old man is always angry!”

Joel waves him off, “Just do it, Don.”

“No problem, kid!”

He turns around and there’s a new patron sitting at one of his tables. A woman, body guarded, eyes on alert, evaluating the diner for the closest exits. You look scared, but only in the way that prey does when it knows it’s safe– waiting for the next predator to flash its teeth at your trembling form. Your hair is wet, as well as the tops of your shoulders, which are tucked into a large hoodie that swallows you. He didn’t realize it was raining. Your sneaker-clad feet are tucked under your legs, criss-cross-applesauce on the soft leather of the booth beneath you.

You’re beautiful.

Tapping his pencil against his order pad, he approaches you carefully. You look like you’ll run for the hills if he takes you by surprise. But, his tapping seems to alert you of his presence, as your head turns towards him. You watch him with a discerning look and fold your hands on your lap.

He pulls out the Southern charm his momma taught him, smile and all, hoping it might ease your cautiousness, “Hello, ma’am. Can I get you something to drink?”

You look surprised– eyebrows raised and eyes wide, like you didn’t expect him to talk. It’s odd, he thinks.

“Oh– uh–” you look down to the menu he placed in front of you upon his approach– “Iced tea?”

Just from your voice alone– and piled onto the fact that he knows everyone around here, and he’s damn sure he’s never seen a woman as pretty as you before– he knows you aren’t from around here. He has the sudden and all-consuming need to know everything about you. Why are you here? Who the hell are you?

“You need a lemon with that, sweetheart?” He can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Oh, no, no. Sugar is good enough for me.” As if to prove your point, you pull a couple packets of Sweet ‘N Low out of the small container at the end of the table and toss them next to the menu splayed out in front of you.

“Alright, darlin’. One iced tea comin’ up.” He pulls out a wink for you and walks away. He isn’t prepared to see the aftermath of his overconfidence. He really hopes you don’t run.

And he finds that you haven’t when he comes back with your iced tea in his hand. He places it down in front of you with a, Here you go, hon, and asks if you want anything to eat, and you decline. He rushes to get to his other customers. Tips are more important than the beautiful woman, he has to tell himself, but he finds that his eyes drift to you as you dump three pink packets of the sweetener into your tea and swirl it around. He shakes his head in amusement when you pull a book out of the backpack sitting next to you and start to read.

✦ ✦ ✦

When he comes back to check on you again, you’ve downed your glass of tea and you’re squinting your eyes as you write on the page of the book in front of you, underlining a passage you determine is worthy of note, not once, not twice, but three times. He thinks he sees the words ‘idealized love’ as he pours more tea from the pitcher he brought with him into your plastic cup.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Your eyes don’t even leave the page, pencil doesn’t cease writing as you reply, “The Great Gatsby.”

“Huh. Read that in high school. Kinda sad, ain’t it?”

You place your pencil down in the crease of your paperback, still reading, “I suppose so.”

It’s gone quiet in the diner now that the Church crowd has left, the sound of the jukebox in the corner the only background noise remaining. Only people here now are you and Mr. Cassini, but he’s preoccupied with Doreen, the other waitress on duty today. They’re flirting in the way that old people do, with shy smiles and boisterous laughter. He thinks he can take a quick break.

He sits down on the booth across from you and you look up at him for the first time since he came back to fill your tea.

“What’re you doing,” you ask– not in anger or annoyance, but just genuine confusion.

“Sittin’. This book for pleasure or school?”

You seem to accept his presence here with you as your new, temporary situation and put your bookmark– a pressed leaf– back in your book and close it shut. “School.”

He hums, disappointment dripping down his back, “You in high school then?”

Your eyebrows furrow before you seem to realize where he is drawing his conclusion from, “Oh! No, no. I’m studying to be an English teacher. We’re supposed to read this and come up with a fake lesson plan.”

Relief replaces the disappointment just as quickly as it had come.

“Huh. Interesting.”

You shrug, “I’d like to think so.”

He shuffles in his seat, pressing the cold leather against his sweltering back. “So, what– you gonna be a high school teacher?”

“I’m trying to. It’s hard work.” You pull out a few more packets of sweetener and pour them into your new cup of tea. He tries his best not to smile, but he can feel the corners of his lips pulling at his skin.

“Hard work is good for the soul– shows you got guts. That’s what my momma always says, anyways.”

You grin, “She sounds real smart, your mamma.” He hears you emulating his accent, teasing him for being so incredibly cliché, but he’s so focused on your blinding smile that he can’t even fight back.

“She is. She’s the best I could ask for.”

“Good. Everyone deserves a good mom,” you say, your smile almost turns sad as you say it. He wants to grab your face and beg you to tell him why what you said makes you sad, where’s your good mom that you deserve?

“Joel Miller, what are you doin’, sittin’ down? Get your ass up and clean some tables,” Donald yells from across the diner. Joel doesn’t even flinch– used to his sour attitude from almost four years of working here. But he watches you flinch, eyes going wide. You look warily over to Donald, assessing the situation, before you look back over to him.

You clear your throat, “It seems like you need to be getting to work, Joel Miller.”

You're teasing him again, but he can tell you’re nervous. He smiles, trying to calm your nerves as much as he can, and he thinks it works as he watches your shoulders relax slightly.

He chuckles, muttering to you conspiratorially, “Bitter old man, can’t see I’m trying to get myself a date over here.”

Your eyes flick down to your book and back up to him. Biting your lip, trying to suppress the smile he can see taking over your face, you reply, “Get back to work.”

“Alright, alright, sugar. I’m going,” he concedes, hands flying up in surrender.

The grin finally takes over your lips again and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful– besides his own baby girl’s smile.

A name falls from your upturned lips.

“Huh?”

You laugh, opening your book back up and pulling yourself back into the story, “My name, Joel Miller.”

He repeats it back to you. It tastes like honey and sweetener on his tongue.

He wonders what you would taste like on his tongue.

“I’m getting off in 30 minutes.” An invitation.

You look back up at him. “Well, then, I guess I got another thirty minutes to read before you’re bothering me again.” You accept.

“I suppose you do.” He turns back to the counter and walks away. He can feel the pull to go back to you, to indulge himself in you further, but he needs the money and the extra $3 for the next thirty minutes could be the difference between his baby girl getting a full meal or not, and Donald has a nasty habit of not paying the full amount if he ain’t working, so he picks up a rag and gets back to work.

✦ ✦ ✦

Thirty minutes later, he’s pulling off his apron and bounding out of the backroom towards the table you’ve made a home of. He finds that you’ve packed up your things into your lavender bookbag, like you’re ready for whatever he throws at you– to go wherever he’s going to take you.

He wastes no time; he doesn’t want to be here anymore. “You wanna go on a walk?”

You nod your head eagerly. It seems you’re in agreement.

The pavement is a dark gray beneath your purple sneakers and his steel-toed boots, a pair his momma gave him for his 18th birthday. They’re good for work– sturdy, not too sweaty or uncomfortable. He wears them everyday. He wonders if you like cowboy boots, hopes you don’t find them tacky.

It’s still light out, around six in the afternoon. It stopped raining an hour ago, but the humidity still lies heavy in the air as the two of you make your way outside. It’s hot, but only in the way that Texas is in the middle of October. It’s comforting, like laying in front of a fire on a cold day.

He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets. He wants to take your hand, can feel his fingers twitching with the exertion of forcing himself to stop. You don’t even know him– he doesn’t want to scare you off yet.

You look to him for directions and he tilts his head forward and down the street, starting your walk at a slow, but steady, pace.

Austin is busy this time of year, what with all the college students a month or so into their return for the fall semester. The bars they pass are full of drunk students on full-weekend benders and loud music. Stupid decisions and disco lighting. Sometimes he’s glad he was able to avoid all that. Sometimes he misses having the option of making mistakes.

He clears his throat, “Where you from, darlin’?”

You smile, kicking a rock with the edge of your sneaker, “Oh, is it that obvious that I’m not a Texas girl?”

If the lack of the local accent and not recognizing you wasn’t enough, the way you held yourself would be the obvious give away to him– nervous, on-guard. He finds that people around here aren’t scared of being too loud or in the way of anyone or anything. It was plain to him that you couldn’t stand the idea of getting in anyone’s way.

“Kinda,” he chuckles.

You hesitate, looking away from him and to the uneven sidewalk below you both, like you’re trying to decide if you should lie to him or not.

“Seattle.”

That takes him by surprise, but he hopes it doesn’t show too much. What in the hell were you doing all the way down here?

So many questions left unanswered in the aftermath of you.

“Woah– long way from home, aren’t we?”

Your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah— yeah, I am.”

Home, family seem to be sore topics for you. He makes a note to avoid it.

“Never been to Seattle. In fact, I’ve never left Texas.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Really? Washington’s beautiful.”

“Lotsa rain, I hear.”

You let out a breath of amusement, “You hear correctly. It's one of the only things I miss about it. Texas isn’t exactly known for its rain.”

He snorts, “No, it ain’t. But, you got yourself some today. Bet that was nice.”

You nod. It’s a few moments of comfortable silence before you speak again.

“You from around here?”

He nods once, pushing his hands even further into his pockets in embarrassment, “Lived in Austin my whole life.”

“Joel Miller, you’ve gotta get out of Texas,” you laugh.

You’re beautiful when you laugh. Your smile lights up your whole face like the sun as you throw your head back towards the dreary sky, eyes crinkled by the pull of your cheeks.

He sighs lightly, “Yeah, ‘spose I do.”

You seem to realize something as you do a quick scan of your surroundings before you look back at him with narrowed eyes and a playful smirk.

“Miller, where are we going,” you draw out.

“Nowhere,” he mimics your drawn out syllables, “Just walkin’.”

You hum, “Hm, and I don’t suppose that nowhere is in the general direction of my college campus and that you may be ‘just walkin’ ‘ me to my dorm like the Southern gentleman you are?”

He chuckles, bashfully scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe.”

You pause, look him up and down, and then sigh, “Thank you, Joel.”

“It’s no problem, sugar.”

He lets you take the lead now that you’re approaching the campus, slowing his steps so he could keep up with you. You scrunch your eyebrows at the ground below you and pucker your lips, opening your mouth and then closing it again. When Sarah does that, he calls her ‘fishy’. He desperately wants to tell you about her, but he finds himself once again fighting the urge so he doesn’t scare you off. Not yet, he tells himself.

You look up at him again, eyes wide and biting your bottom lip, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

He’s staring. He knows he’s staring at your mouth, but he can’t help it. They’re like a siren song he can’t resist. He can’t think straight when you’re next to him.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, “What?”

“‘Sugar’. Why do you keep calling me that?” You glance over at him, but quickly look back at the ground when you catch him staring at you. He can tell you’re flustered.

“Oh, well, I watched you pour three packets of sweetener in your tea like a maniac. So, I figured that was an appropriate nickname.”

You scoff, throwing your hands up in the air, a grin growing on your face, “Hey, that is a very appropriate amount of sweetener, thank you very much! I thought you Southerners adored your sweet tea.”

“Darlin’, if all us ‘Southerners’ drank three packets of sweetener with our iced tea, we would all be dying at a very young age.”

“Well then, I’ll die a very sugar-high and happy, young woman.”

He laughs– one of those real laughs that only his family can bring out of him. He can’t remember the last time he laughed like this in public.

“Y’know, if you’re gonna die young, sugar, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea that I do what I was about to do.”

You stop in front of the tall brick building in front of you, clicking your heels together, and playfully furrow your eyebrows again. You’ve reached your destination. This is goodbye. He doesn’t want it to be.

“And what were you about to do, Joel Miller?”

“Ask you on a date,” he smiles and you smirk, “But… if you’re planning on an early demise, darlin’, I don’t wanna get my heart broken.”

“And if I promised to cut back?” You’re approaching him quietly– two feet turning into almost chest-to-chest in a few agonizing seconds.

“Then, I’ll have to take you out to make sure you keep your promise– now, won’t I?”

He watches from the corner of his eye as you pull a piece of paper out of your hoodie pocket and stuff it in his own. The soft, fleeting feeling of your hand brushing his makes a shiver run down his spine. Your hand quickly retreats.

You look up at him with mischief in your eyes, “I guess you will.”

Before he can even blink or think or process, you're kissing his cheek with a tenderness he hasn’t felt in years– eyes closed and big grin plastered on your face. He knows he’s blushing; the heat is crawling up his face ruthlessly.

You pull away and start to walk toward your building. He lifts a hand to his face in hopes that you left something there, evidence that you were real, evidence that what just happened wasn’t a figment of his imagination. But all he can feel is his own stubble. He hopes it didn’t hurt your lips. Maybe he should shave when he gets home.

“Call me, Joel Miller,” you shout over your shoulder, grinning brightly.

“How,” he shouts back.

“Look in your pocket!” You point to your own in emphasis.

His eyebrows pull together as he pulls the paper out of his pocket and reads it. Ten digits sitting pretty in red at the top with your name sitting on the bottom, a heart colored in with purple highlighter drawn next to it.

He goes to tell you thank you, or declare something he’s not even sure of himself, but when he looks back up to the doors of your building, you’re gone. The only evidence that you were ever real sits in his hands like a promise.

He rushes home before his mom starts to worry about where he went. He can’t wait to tell her all about you.

series masterlist | masterlist of all masterlists 🌼 | eras masterlist 🌻

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel m #tlou #fluff #joel miller fluff #moe's writing #eras fanfic tour #speak now teft #joel miller au

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officialabortive · 1 year

Text

Katsuki was well aware that you had a cat. You'd mentioned your feline companion to him a few times in passing during conversation. Naturally, he didn't think much of it. You had a cat, so what?

Yeah, it turns out your cat is a little shit

Katsuki was headed back to the agency, just having finished patrol when you'd crossed paths.

He'd approached from behind with arms folded over his broad chest as he awaited your acknowledgement. Only huffing with his signature irritated scowl when you kept walking, clueless to his presence.

"Oi"

Now that more than gained your attention. You whipped around, the shock causing you to reflexively swing at whatever spooked you. Successfully landing a punch to the hero's solar plexus.

The fact that he barely flinched didn't go unnoticed, neither did the looks you were receiving from passing civilians.

"Katsuki what the fuck"

He wore a teasing smirk, clearly amused with your reaction.

"Just finished patrol. Wanted 't see what you're up to"

"Well I was on my way home before I got scared shitless" you paused, thinking things over. "But if you're done working, you should come with me. If you're free that is."

You fumbled with your keys, trying to unlock the door to your fourth floor apartment. Letting out a breath when you finally got the door to swing open, colliding with the wall a bit too aggressively.

You and Katsuki had been dating for a little while now, over 5 months. But this was the first time he's ever seen your apartment. Sure, he's been there the times he'd walk you home or take you out, but he's never actually been inside.

Katsuki placed his gauntlets beside his shoes, before slowly stalking toward you. He knew how much you loved how he looked in his hero attire, and you were past avoiding staring. Now shamelessly eyeing him down as he approaches, running your hands down his torso, stopping to rest at his hips. His own hands slid under your shirt, running up and down your back before placing both hands on your chest

MROW

All attention got ripped away from him as your cat came prancing in, coming to rub in your legs

"Oh hello! I missed you too"

Katsuki glared down at the cat you were giving so much love to. Love that you should be giving to him right now

"Fucking cockblock"

This continued throughout the day. Whenever he got close to you on the couch, the cat would jump up between both of you. His hand would get swatted away by a fuzzy paw when it rested on your plush thighs.

Slit pupils were always on him, waiting for him to make a move. And he always shot back a glare of his own. He is Dynamite for fuck sake. One of Japan's most powerful heroes, not a force to be reckoned with. He refuses to lose to someone who shits in a box.

He makes that clear once you leave to go to the bathroom.

"Listen up fuckface. You better back the hell off because you can't get rid of me"

Pt2

MASTERLIST

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mandalhoerian · 1 year

Note

Shai! Shai! I've thought of another scenario for Leon😊 Altho being a new fan I've come to the conclusion that Leon is the type to believe he's not good enough for his partner, he believes they could do better then him. So imagine a Leon who has finally accepted he has feelings for you and works up the courage to confess only for you to turn the tables on him and say you dont feel good enough for him. I imagine he would be in disbelief? How would he react to his crush telling him "You're too good for me Leon."?

too good for me | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x reader (unspecified gender) genre: fluff, miscommunication, the "endeared badass x normal person scared shitless of the endeared badass" trope. no spice, unfortunately. only good vibes and leon being head over heels smitten. enjoy! word count: 2.7K? It's short! notes: hi sarah! i am SO SORRY this has taken forever. you requested this one month ago! its been so hectic lately, i've been having health problems that required regular hospital visits and tests upon tests, but now that my surgery (yeah i know... yikes) is authorized i'm only waiting for them to call me for the date and have all the time in the world to get my rest and write. i'm also working on your other (wink wink) request! thank you so much for being patient with me. hope this is what you had in mind! i also added my touch and ideas to it lmao. happy reading!!

🌀 read on ao3!

“You’re too good for me,” is the hesitant, small answer you give him while avoiding eye contact and playing with your fingers in front of your office’s shared coffee maker Leon had made countless paperwork excuses to be able to simply stop by — to his question, that is, about why you wouldn’t go on a simple date with him.

You puff out an awkward laugh to smooth things over as humorous but it’s forced and not at all sincere.

It’s taken Leon a whole inner journey (Spain. Mostly the simultaneous trauma and catharsis of Spain) to get over himself to recognize what his heart truly wanted but was too pussy to look at before, yet here you two are. The lone angel in his life telling the failure Leon is that he’s too good? For you?

He simply stares, dumbly standing there, piping hot coffee that’s actually incompatible with his taste buds he insists he must do a detour to get from here simply because you often do, stiff and awkward in his hold, thinking he heard you wrong because he hasn’t gotten a good night’s rest — rest, not sleep — in forever since he came back from Spain.

He’s been forcing himself to come to work just for a glimpse of you and your pretty face to recharge his battery, heal his soul a bit, let you be all that occupies his mind despite being laid off after that outrageous mission that resulted in the president’s unwanted favor and nightmares upon nightmares with only anxious yet soothing thoughts of you as the best bad out of the worst he’s had to face— and what is it that you said again?

“You’re joking right?” Leon says, pride not knowing if it should be broken or not because he’s not sure to take this as a rejection, and it isn’t his intention for it to sound that harsh. He’s not some asshole who can’t take no for an answer, it’s your reasoning that has him downright jamming like a gun.

Leon has to remind himself to switch off work mode because now you look mousey as if he has a paw on your tail, shoulders pulled into yourself. “Sorry!” He feels so bad, heart expanding within his ribcage and it aches, fuck, he just wanted to ask you out and all he’s doing is scaring you. “I’m sorry, you were kidding. I didn’t get it— I’m kinda slow and you sound flat sometimes, of course you weren’t serious, I’m—”

“No, I was serious.” His eyebrows furrow at yet another self-degradation from you. “It’s you who has to be kidding. What do you mean too good for you?”

You are at a loss of words, mouth opening but nothing coming out, and finally look him in the eye and all Leon wants to do is lean down and capture your mouth, he’s heavily distracted by you licking your lips and swallowing, the sighting of the tip of your pink tongue makes his shirt suddenly suffocating and tight.

“I mean,” you begin tentatively, unaware of what’s going on in his head, vaguely gesturing to Leon. “Well… You’re you, I mean… And I’m. Me. Look at you and look at me. Why would you even…?”

“Hey,” Leon sets his mug on the counter, closing his eyes and pinching the insides with his thumb and pointer. The implications alone sent a zapping headache through his skull that he knows he has to rest to be able to unpack, especially when he’s finally decided on seriously pursuing you in spite of himself. Leon can’t let this remain unaddressed, for your sake and his sanity. “How about I wait for you after work today and we talk about this somewhere else?” He’s squinting. “In detail.”

“We don’t really need to—”

“We do.” Leon wants you to see he’s serious about this — about you. “Because I see something here that I want to pursue and we can’t have any misunderstandings. Would appreciate it if you at least give me the chance to clear the air.”

“P-pursue?” You swallow and Leon’s mind wanders again. “Clear the air you say…”

He breathes in. “Can you give me your phone?”

You slap it into his palm almost immediately, the speed with which you obey him without asking him any questions surprises him. He wants to scold if you’re willing to hand over your mobile to any guy who asks, but supposes it’s not his place — is frustrated this is what it takes to get him annoyed, as well. He isn’t some young adult. Weirdly, you make him feel like one.

He’s punching his own number in, despite the conflicting feelings, finally feeling like this is getting somewhere and he’s doing it when you start talking again, nervous. “You can uh, clear the air… right here… without taking me to a secondary location…”

His eyes flick up to yours in confusion and you look to the right immediately, and back to him. To the right. Back to him. It’s somehow comedic, because why do you look like you’re cornered by some bad guy?

You really look like you want to be anywhere else than here, Leon’s fucking this up and he doesn’t even know what he’s doing wrong. Was he going too fast? Should he have told you his number and let you save it instead?

You’re mumbling, nervousness clear as day for reasons he can’t fathom, he hears you, but he doesn’t really understand.

“What? What's wrong?" Leon asks, his voice laced with genuine concern. He takes a step closer, wanting to bridge the gap between you and alleviate whatever discomfort you were experiencing. "You seem... uneasy. Did I do something wrong?"

Your eyes meet his briefly, then quickly shift away again, as if you are struggling to find the right words.

Leon's heart sinks. His intention wasn’t to make you feel nervous or pressured, especially when he is genuinely trying to connect with you — then, in a brilliant moment of heart-stopping realization, the fact that you might just not be interested slaps him in the face and he’s…

Well. Wouldn’t that be the reality?

Leon is… He isn’t exactly the ideal man. Not with what he does, and how his life is. He’s aware of that. Have been running from forming connections because of what he knows will end up happening because of that. He can’t get attached and keep losing people — can’t keep getting hurt in the vicious cycle to prevent everyone from getting hurt. It’s been the bane of his existence ever since STRATCOM plucked him off straight from Raccoon City. Even if you work in the same field as him, just different offices, who is to say it will work out anyway?

He’s getting ahead of himself. You might not like him at all in the first place. Jesus.

Maybe you see him for what he is. Maybe you think he’s not —- the effort’s not worth it, and you wouldn’t exactly be wrong in thinking so. You could be wanting something else in life that he only has the desire to give you, and not the promise. He wouldn’t blame you, hell, who would blame someone for being their own person with their thoughts, wishes, wants and goals in life?

You’re too good for me, really, is his line. It has been right from the beginning, his excuse in running away from his undeniable, frightening attraction to you.

"No, it's not you," you finally managed to articulate, prompting Leon to release the breath he was holding, your voice shaky, playing with your fingers. "I just... I feel a bit overwhelmed. This is all happening so fast, and I never expected..."

Leon nods, his expression softening as he realizes the weight of the situation. He hasn’t fully considered how his sudden confession and determination to pursue you might have caught you off guard. He has been so focused on his own feelings that he hasn’t taken into account your own thoughts and emotions.

"I understand," he replies, voice gentle and reassuring. "I didn't mean to overwhelm you. I just... I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. But please know that I don't expect an immediate answer or any commitment from you. I just… Well. I just wanted to tell you. See where this goes. Or, maybe, if that’s not the case… Get rejected for good so I can move on, you know?"

You laugh a little and it’s genuine — you have no idea how it turns Leon’s heart into putty right where it hangs between two lungs. “Do you really mean all of that?”

“Of course,” he says, offended the tiniest bit. “Why do you think I would joke about something like this?”

“It’s not about you joking, really…” You’re uncomfortable again, hesitating to tell him something.

“Hey, you can tell me.”

“Can you promise you won’t get mad?”

“What am I, your father?” He snorts. “Come on, tell me.”

You brace yourself for it and he doesn’t understand why until you say it. “You, um… You’re kinda scary.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Sorry!” You raise your hands up in panic. “I don’t really mean it like that, not to insult you or anything, it’s actually admirable, I’m just saying! Discipline, work ethic, unmatched field performance! You’re very… Very, uh… Intimidating, yeah, that’s the word…? I mean, like… You, uh, you’re famous, you know, we all know your work, you’re very hard working, working hard, very hard work — uh, um… So it’s…”

“I scare you?” Leon swears he felt his eyes get bigger the faster you kept on vomiting words. “You think I would hurt you?”

“No!” You reject strongly, waving a nervous hand at him. Silence befalls later, which you follow awkwardly with a silent, guilty. “Maybe,” after clearing your throat.

He had always strived to be a protector, but he hadn't realized that his image and reputation — what it had become after Spain — could have such an effect on someone he cares about.

"I never meant to scare you," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine remorse, he puts the coffee mug on the counter and leans his hip on it, shoulders sagging a bit as he crosses his arms. The thought of you only feeling intimidation about him leaves a bitter taste worse than the coffee does. "I guess... I've always been so focused on work, on the dangers just around the corner — I’m aware how it might affect my relationships in the long run so I never attempted to form any at all, but I never realized how it might affect how people see me in the first place. I never wanted to make you, of all people, feel this way. I could never hurt you. Never."

“I didn’t want to imply you’re a guy who’d intentionally hurt someone—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, ruffling his hair to get rid of the awkwardness. “So I’ve just been bugging you this whole time, huh? Jesus. I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, don’t say that, you’re amazing! You’re like a hero around here…”

“Around here doesn’t mean shit,” he replies curtly, and regrets cursing like that in front of you immediately. It’s unbecoming of him — and doesn’t help his image in your eyes at all. He’s getting frustrated. His tone lowers into a softer, more disappointed, heartfelt one. “I only care about how you think of me.”

“Well, you’re amazing,” you say again, bashfully this time, and it prompts him to look at you. There’s something shy about you now that has him standing taller in anticipation, wondering if it’s him reading this wrong or not. “It’s pretty well-known if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t know,” he prods, idiot heart fluttering at the way you’re flustered. “What do you think? Besides intimidating, I mean. Not reporting on the local gossip this time, if you don’t mind.”

“You seem like a nice guy,” you settle. The middle ground. “I’ve seen you with the president’s daughter.”

Leon's expression softens at your words, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He takes a deep breath, trying to let go of the tension that had built up within him. The mention brings a slight smile to his face, memories of Ashley flooding his mind, a fondness evident in his eyes. "Ah, Ashley. Yeah, that was quite the adventure. Though what can you be other than a nice guy when your mission is the president’s daughter?"

“I know a couple people who’d treat her like a package to be delivered. You prioritized her wellbeing more than anything.”

“What else was I supposed to prioritize?”

“You know what I mean. Emotional wellbeing. I’ve read your initial report and her statement. You cared about her.” A smile tugs at your lips, he can tell you’re a bit more comfortable now. "Especially during what you’ve been through. It's impressive how you handle yourself in those situations."

He shrugs modestly, a hint of pride shining in his eyes. You respect him. "I guess you could say it comes with the job. But it's not all action and danger, you know. There's more to me than just being a government agent."

Your curiosity piques, and you tilt your head, prompting him to continue. "Tell me more. What's Leon Kennedy like outside of work and missions?"

It catches him off guard that you want to know more and take the first step. You could have just rejected him. His heart picks up, chest expanding in excitement, he’s glad for the opportunity to share a glimpse of his life beyond the chaos of his work — he’s normally not eager to share pieces of his life like this, but… He’d give it to you on a silver platter, whether it'd lure you in or not. That’s how Leon knows he wants this with you so bad. “I wanna lie to woo you but… Would it be too unattractive to tell I really don’t have a life outside of work? I’m still trying to find some balance in my life. The upper echelon guys are pretty ruthless and demanding. I guess it means I can say I’m into traveling?”

“Is this the cool guy way of saying you’re an introvert these days?”

The unexpectedness of it is what gets him to throw his head back to laugh, and he catches you staring, scrambling to rub his face to get rid of it and regain some composure. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Pretty much.”

“Well,” you gesture at him, there’s a vague pink hue dusting your cheeks. “What are you into, then?”

God, he can’t stop, “Other than you?” from escaping his dumb mouth. He shouldn’t have said it. It’s too corny. So uncalled for. Your mouth hangs open and he wishes he could rewind the tape to take it back and choose some other option. “Say… What about we continue this discussion after work? I know a good coffee place. Let me make it up to you for invading your lunch time. I’ll tell you all about me, what do you say?”

You look at the clock on the wall, he knows you didn’t get to have anything because he decided to turn up and serenade you with unwanted attention, it’s two birds with one stone for him if you decide to accept — he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t see a perfect moment to seize the chance.

“Coffee sounds perfect,” you nod, with no pressure from him, and it lifts a great weight off his shoulders. “Would it be okay if I eat something too?”

Why are you so adorable? You don’t know that you own the power to get Leon to have your superiors let you go for the day, but he can’t get too excited right now. “Say the word and it becomes a dinner date.”

It gets you flustered again, you don’t know where to put your hands, and he’s so happy about it. “It’s a weekday… That’d be a bit exhausting…”

“Okay. Coffee date it is.”

He’s noticing you like the cheeky confidence, and it makes sense, considering the intensity had you intimidated. “Thank you,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Believe me,” Leon can’t stop the grin from overtaking his expression. “My pleasure. You’re honestly too good for me.”

There’s the sudden urge to kiss you when vulnerability and shyness lights up your whole face, but he’ll take it slow. He has to take it slow. For himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff

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itsfairly · 3 months

Text

Saying Out Loud // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

cw: none.

notes: HAPPY PRIDE YALL! i normally post once a month, but lets pretend last post was the make-up for may and this one is june's. either way, fits the month, right?

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

"I'm bisexual," you said with a small crack towards the end of your words.

your eyes were constantly shifting between his, searching for any reaction or response from Kento as your fingers fidgeted with each other in an effort to calm your nerves.

it was so uncomfortable, so tense, so terrifying. you know this stuff is told at the beginning of a relationship, not months into it, but things with Kento were going so well. you've never felt so calm around someone, so loved in the most simple yet concrete ways, that a relationship could be so easy and rewarding as this one with him. you wanted to hold on to this stage, this moment where things flowed perfectly and the world seemed to say yes, these two are meant for each other. that's why you took so long to tell him.

after all, how many people treated you differently after they learned this about you?

sorry, its just that i dont want to date someone who will make me look over my shoulder to see if they are being faithful.

what? so you're just gonna leave me when you want to date a man or something?

does that mean we can have a threesome?

its was as if there mere mention of your bisexuality was a burden to them or some sort of fetish. it was exhausting and no matter how much you tried to be fine with it, you weren't.

it wasnt like you didnt trust Kento, he had been nothing but respectful to you and such a gentleman. but god, did those relationships screw up your confidence in this area...you thought you could keep this to yourself, but then again, he deserved to know before things went any further, to walk out if this wasn't what he hoped. you would get it even if it was unfair.

with every second his eyes looked into yours, taking in your words with that stoic expression of his that you could barely read at the moment, the fear was growing in your chest. It kept expanding until it reached your lungs and had to take deep breaths to appear calm about this when you were scared shitless. what would he say? why was he taking so long? he wants to break up, doesn't he? of course, he-

"what made you want to tell me now?" Kento asked, his voice calm as ever as if he was asking where you wanted to have lunch, making you wonder if he was even understanding the severity of your words.

"we've been dating for months now, exclusively even, and you deserved to know before things got serious," you said, feeling your heart race with every word you said. hell, you wondered how you managed to speak so clearly with these many thoughts in your head.

"but are you telling me because you want to or because you felt like you have to?" Kento asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, his eyes showing this concern.

that made you blink a few times. this wasn't the kind of reaction you usually received. you were bracing yourself to hear any apprehension, maybe for him to reject or twist your words, but not to see him worried for you like this.

"i told you, we have been dating for a few months and it would be fair if i kept this from you-"

"but its not fair to force yourself either." Kento interrupted you, his words having this firm yet soft tone to them.

his hands reached out to one of yours, covering it completely in his hold. a steady hold opposite to the fidgeting of your fingers, but in his hands, your hand had no choice but to relax.

"you look so stiff you might break, try and take a breath," he adds, his head tilting to the side as his expression softened.

you do just that, mirroring Kento as he also took a deep breath to encourage you to do the same, and while it did help with the nerves, it didn't relieve your confusion. he wasn't saying much on your coming out, he hadn't say a single word about it yet.

"i wanted—want to tell you because i don't want you to find out later on after investing so much in me and just...you don't need to waste your time if someone like me isn't what you were looking for," you explained.

of course you wanted to tell him, but it didn't took away how scary coming out is, especially when the person you're coming out to is so special and you want them in your life regardless. you didn't want to lose him, but you also didn't want to deceive him like this. maybe you did had to push yourself to say it, not wanting to ruin things so quickly, but you couldn't wait any longer.

Kento sighs, making your heart stop for a second. Was he disappointed? Infuriated? Angry?

But when you heard his words as he squeezed your hand, you were surprised to learn how far off you were...

"i must be awful at making it clear that you're exactly who I'm looking for."

suddenly, its as if your heart gains this new energy, beating and beating as if you just ran a marathon. your mouth feels dry as youfeel your brows knitting together, feeling as if this conversation was bringing more surprises to you than to him.

"you don't care that i'm bi?" you asked quietly, your hand squeezing his back in hopes you didn't hear him wrong.

Kento shakes his head, "i do, but not in the way you think," he says, a shadow of a smile coming to the corner of his lip as he scoots closer to you. His eyes look at yours, silently asking if that was okay. You nod.

"i care, not because it annoys me—i would be an asshole if that were the case—, but because i'm learning about you. The you that you feel most authentic to. While i am happy that you are opening up to me about something so important to you, i wished you would feel more comfortable telling me about it because you were ready, not because you felt pressured to. i'm sorry if i made you feel that."

you didnt know what it was at this point, whether it was the adrenaline or sweetness of the moment, but you knew Kento was the reason with all these words he was saying. he wasn't anything like anyone you'd dated before, he was being so sweet and just a dream. you never thought your chest could swell with this feeling while coming out to someone. it felt...easy.

you quickly shake your head, your turn to scoot over to him with your knees bumping against his. "no, no! you didn't pressure me in any way, Kento. its just that i know how much of a dealbreaker this is to some and i..." you took in a deep breath, feeling your throat hitch with this lump, "god, you have no idea how relieving it is to hear that."

you didn't wait a second longer before you wrapped you arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug as you rested your forehead in his shoulder. you felt his arms wrapped around you in return, pulling you closer to his body as his hand caressed your back in soothing circles that made your heart calm down.

"someone like you is special," Kento says softly, his breath tickling your ear, "you're choosing me over anyone else, and i feel so honored that you are with me."

you laughed softly, pulling your head back from his shoulder and looking at him with a huge grin. god, he made this so, so easy.

"kento, you have no idea what this means to me. No idea how easy it is to feel lucky right now." You said quietly, taking a deep breath before resting your forehead against his, "thank you, just thank you."

Kento hums, his hand coming up to your scalp to stroke your hair gently. hearing all your words and seeing all the emotions you wore on your sleeve made him realize how big of a step this was for you, how heavy of a topic this was on you. it didn't take a genius to know that this reaction from you meant that this situation didn't went as well in the past with other people, which made his heart hurt for you. Sweet you who thought about him first before herself when this wasn't about him.

more than ever, Kento would make sure that you felt comfortable in your skin and secure in your relationship. you deserved nothing less than that and you were worth investing in as you said in your own words, though he would much rather call it loving you. it sounded more accurate to what he wanted to do.

"you know, now i have to put more effort into our relationship," Kento said softly, a hint of playfulness in his voice, "after all, I'm showing you off to double the people, aren't i?"

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