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trensu · 1 year

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ETA: now on ao3 as Hawkins Halfway House for Homeless Horrors

ETA2: now with an additional snippet

okay, how's this for an AU

We know that Steve wants to be a dad. Like, his literal life dream is to have a minimum of six children. SIX. who wants that?? crazy people, that's who. but we forgive him his insanity because he's sweet and will actually probably be a really good dad and there's not enough of those in the world.

the downer is that it's the late 90s, he's a (still) single guy in his thirties, and every adoption agency on the planet would rather give their children to a heteronormative couple who don't even want kids than to a single dude who would dedicate his heart and soul to giving his kids a happy healthy home.

He's bemoaning his fate to Robin at a bar they recently discovered. It's a weird little joint, kinda tucked away on the outskirts where Steve could've sworn didn't exist just last week. The patrons were kinda weird too but neither he or Robin could put their finger on why or how. If Steve had been a little less miserable, and Robin a little less caught up in comforting him, they might've noticed how everyone else in the bar kept sneaking curious glances at them or how they somehow always kept most of their features hidden.

They didn't though. Even when they were interrupted by a handsome black gentleman who called himself Jeff. Jeff said that he couldn't help but overhear their dilemma and that he's actually part of an agency that is more open minded about potential foster or adoptive parents. Steve's a little deeper in his cups than he intended, and doesn't question that some random guy in a bar is offering him a chance of having children. Robin is not as far in her cups and finds it a bit suspicious.

She was going to say something about it but Jeff looked her in the eye and said, "Everything is fine. There's no reason to worry. I'm only trying to help."

"You're only trying to help," Robin murmured back blearily. "Everything is fine. Yeah. Yeah, 'm not worried."

Jeff gives Steve his card and tells him he can stop by the very next day if he'd like, since his schedule is open.

The next day, Steve is regretting having gotten so drunk. Not really because of the hangover (though holy shit, he is NOT twenty anymore he needs to stop drinking like one). No. It's because Jeff had just finished giving him a tour of the facility full of rambunctious children in need of a home.

Actually, that had been pretty okay even if the other adults in the facility startled at the sight of him and the children kept ducking into other rooms to hide from him.

No. It's because Jeff had just introduced him to a child named Dustin who sneezed unexpectedly and somehow turned into a kitten.

"Um," Steve said. Jeff sighed.

"Dustin hasn't gotten back control over his shapeshifting since his mother's passing, but I assure you he's been improving."

"...shapeshifting," Steve said, numbly.

"Yes. Dustin tends to go for cat shapes, like his mother did." Jeff bends down to pick up the loudly mewing tabby kitten. "We've managed to get him to shift mostly into a domestic shorthair, rather than a cougar cub."

"That's great," Steve squeaked as he tried to tamp down the growing hysteria in him. "Really, really great. Y'know what, Jeff, this whole thing's been great but I think I'm still kind of drunk so I'm just gonna go--"

"No, wait," Jeff says, quickly placing the Dustin kitten on his shoulder before reaching out to grab Steve by the elbow. "Please. Look, you seem like a good guy. I did a quick scan of you and everything, and I really think if you'd take a moment to sit down and--"

"JEFFORD BILLANY JONES."

Jeff's shoulders hunched, nearly dislodging Dustin from his shoulder. He sighed again and turned to face the man storming towards him and Steve.

"Eddy, you know none of that is my name."

"I'll call you whatever I want since for some unfathomable reason, you've brought a human into my sanctuary. Why is there a human in my home, Jeffamy."

"Eddy, let me explain."

"It's Eddie in front of the human," Eddie said.

Steve's brain was experiencing some sort of malfunction because Jeff had been calling this man Eddie, except if he concentrated, the way Jeff said Eddie and the way Eddie had said Eddie sounded very very different except it hadn't because they both sounded like Eddie except for how Jeff's Eddie sounded different from, the same as, different, just like--

A pair of ringed fingers snapped aggressively in front of his face, startling Steve from an impending aneurysm.

"You. Who are you, who sent you, what do you want."

Steve stuttered something incoherent. He's pretty sure he's had a mental break from reality. There was some sort of sentient black sludge creeping across the tiled floor, wrapping a tendril around Jeff's leg.

"What is that?" Steve squawked. Jeff beamed at him.

"Oh, this is El! She's a Monster Under the Bed. She hasn't decided on a form yet, but that's okay, we love her just as she is."

"Jeff," Eddie snapped. Jeff looked at Eddie stubbornly.

"You told me we needed all hands on deck."

"How dare you, I'd never stoop to using boat metaphors."

"Don't distract me with blatant lies. Eddy, you said we needed help. You said you'd take anyone at this point."

Steve has not been able to stop staring at the sludge creature (El?). He's beginning to realize that he can't quite remember what Jeff looked like, or any of the adults they had seen. He's noticing that some of the children that have been scampering about had looked off. Like the boy with the bowl-cut they had passed by earlier who had looked...frosty around the edges. Or the girl he thought had had red feathers in her hair but is now suspecting the feathers were something more than decorative.

Ringed fingers snap in front of his face again. Steve finally focused on the man named Eddie who was actually named Eddie which was different from Eddie somehow. Now that he's able to shove away the confusion that is this man's name, he's struck by the fact that Eddie was quite possibly the most gorgeous man Steve's ever seen. He had wide, dark eyes that made Steve think of seabeds in the deepest of waters. His hair was a riot of dark brown curls that for some reason brought to mind swirling schools of fish.

"Answer my questions," Eddie demanded. Steve blinked and, with some difficulty, remembered the previous interrogation.

"Uh, I'm Steve. Jeff invited me because I want to be a dad."

Eddie barked out a laugh.

"Oh, is that right? In that case, welcome to Hawkins' Halfway House for Homeless Horrors! I'm sure Jeff would love to finish introducing you to the rest of our children. Have you met Mike? He's a ghoul! Or Lucas! He's a werewolf and his dream is to become a basketball star. They both have very sharp teeth so watch out for their tantrums."

Jeff scowls at Eddie before turning back to Steve. Steve was starting to feel faint and he was no longer sure if he regretted drinking the night before or regretted not drinking more.

"Steve, it's okay. Eddy is making it sound scarier than it actually is. You said you wanted to be a dad, and we need foster parents that can help these kids learn how to blend in with humans. That's what the halfway house is for, but there's only so much they can learn while living in sanctuary. We need a way to have them experience the human world more directly while still keeping them safe, and I think you're the solution we've been looking for. What do you think?"

"I think I need to sit down," Steve said thinly. Eddie snorted derisively. Steve was slightly offended but honestly everything was a bit too much right now and he really would like to sit down for a moment just to process. Because monsters are real, apparently, and some of them need parents. Which was terrifying to think about but also not so much? Because all kids were little monsters some of the time right? If Steve could have a moment to get his bearings...

"This was a terrible idea, Jeffathan."

"I think it was a great idea, actually. I really think this could work."

"No. I forbid it. Don't do this again."

Then there was a sweet and beautiful humming. It made the edges of Steve's mind go fuzzy and soft. He blinked slowly and looked for the source of the sound. Eddie stared at him intently and when he spoke, his voice was like music.

"Steve," Eddie said. "Steve, do you want to make me happy?"

Steve nodded dumbly. He wanted that more than anything in the whole world. He wanted to make Eddie smile. He wanted Eddie to never stop singing.

"It would make me very happy if you went home and forgot everything you saw here today," Eddie continued.

Steve made a sad sound. He didn't want to forget. He didn't want to forget beautiful, gorgeous Eddie and this place that could make his dream come true.

"Please, Steve," Eddie's lyrical voice took on an aching mournful tone. "If you don't, you'll break my heart. I'll never be happy again."

The sadness in the song made Steve feel like the world was ending. Eddie couldn't be sad! Steve would rather die than make Eddie sad!

"I forget," Steve mumbled through the fog in his mind. "And you'll be happy?"

"So happy. I'd be the happiest man alive if you do that one little thing for me, my sweet Steve."

Steve nods again. "Okay."

"Good boy," Eddie croons. Steve felt like he swallowed the sun at those words. He followed Eddie as Eddie guided him through the halfway house. Eddie hummed his lovely song the entire way.

"Go home and forget," Eddie sang one last time as he helped Steve get behind the wheel of his car.

"Yeah," Steve replied dreamily and drove away.

The telephone rang shrilly through his apartment. Steve stumbled out of bed and picked up, only fumbling it a little bit.

"H'llo?"

"Steve, what the hell, I've been trying to get a hold of you all day! Where have you been?" Robin's voice rang out, making Steve flinch. He scrubbed his free hand over his face tiredly.

"Home? I just woke up," Steve said. It was weird that he was fully dressed, he thought dazedly, but it wouldn't be the first time he's passed out drunk in his street clothes. Was he wearing this shirt yesterday? He could've sworn he'd worn the navy one.

"What? Just now? It's like five in the evening!"

"Huh. That'd explain the weird dream," Steve mumbled.

"Was it the one where you get seduced by a giant squid? Because I don't need to know more about your weird tentacle fetish."

"I don't have a tentacle fetish! I had the dream ONE time, and I wasn't being seduced, I was getting drowned and it was terrifying!"

"To-may-to, to-mah-to."

"Whatever, this one was weirder anyway."

"I find that hard to believe but now I'm morbidly curious. Hit me with it."

"...I don't remember."

"There goes my entertainment for the evening."

"Was there a reason you called, Robin?"

"Yes! I met this girl named Chrissy and I swear Steve, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen..."

Beautiful. Steve had the faint impression of dark eyes and silver rings, but it was quickly washed away like a child's sandcastle in the tide under the onslaught of Robin's ramblings. As he listened to his best friend, he couldn't help but feel there was something he'd forgotten. There was something he'd been planning on doing today, wasn't there...?

...oh, well. If it was really important, he'd remember eventually.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #trensu tells stories #jeff doesn't understand why eddie hates humans so much #the man who raised eddie was human after all and eddie loved him #eddie: uncle wayne is a god among men how dare you compare him to a human #jeff: well i think uncle wayne would've liked steve and he'd totally agree that my idea was awesome #eddie: BLASPHEMY #jeff sighs the sigh of someone who has unfortunately grown used to the nonsensical dramatics of sirens #look guys i just want steve to adopt a horde of monster children #and for eddie to slowly fall in love with single dad steve #is that too much to ask for?#hawkins halfway house for homeless horrors

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silentglassbreak · 2 months

Note

What if the reader and Noah have been training together with Ash, doing kickboxing and all that. They haven't hung out together, but one day, Noah invites the reader over. They find out that they have more in common than they realize.

You can make this cute, romantic, fluff, smutty...you do you :)

Ahhh mi mayor amor, this ask holds a special place in my heart. I trained martial arts for a long time. This sounds like a lot of fun. Now, I will forewarn you, I’ve never done a reader perspective fic before. I’m nervous. The Y/N thing scares me, but I’m going to take a crack at it. Honest feedback is appreciated! After writing notes: I'm so FUCKING evil. :)

Ratings: Explicit

Warnings: Hehehehehe.......

Vices

“Damn it!” My hand tapped the leg cinched around my throat, my mouth guard nearly choking me as I struggled.

The grip loosened and I rolled backward over my head, fist punching the mat beneath me. The Dutch braids my hair was in was faltering, and I stared at the man in front of me.

“What the fuck am I doing wrong?!”

“Calm down, Y/N. You’re going to get this.” Ash, despite being covered in a thin layer of sweat, was smiling warm at me, trying to calm my frustration.

“We’ve been at this for twenty fucking minutes, dude! I keep getting locked the fuck up!” My hands gestured in front of me, my backside rested on my heels.

“You’ve only been doing Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for three months. You’re still learning. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He moved to stand. “You want to take a break?”

I stood as well, leaning down into my stance. “No. Let’s go again.”

Ash quirked a brow, defeated, and shook his head, bending down as well. Before I could reach for him, a voice echoed from behind me, disrupting my focus.

“You’re too tense. You need to shake off some of that rage you got there, doll.”

I snapped my head over, inadvertently whipping myself in the mouth with the end of my braid.

Noah stood, tall and sweaty, leaning against one of the heavy punching bags lining the back wall of the room. A towel was draped over his left shoulder, his water bottle in his hand. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“If I wanted your opinion, dick, I would’ve asked for it.”

He threw his hands up defensively. “Just trying to help.”

Scoffing, I turned back around to ready myself. “Sure. I believe that.”

If there was anyone in this gym that I considered a nemesis, it was Noah ‘Dickwad’ Sebastian. I couldn’t fucking stand him. He was arrogant, unbearably fucking tall, and insanely fucking irritating.

We met for the first time when I joined the gym three months ago. He had been training here only six months longer than I, and from the beginning, he was constantly poking a fucking stick at me. It didn’t make sense, and I didn’t fucking care.

I learned through whispers in the gym that he was in a band, so when I googled him and learned what he did for a living, I wasn’t impressed in the slightest.

So what if he could sing? Didn’t make him any less intolerable. He wouldn’t sing too well if I stuck my foot down his throat, anyway.

Had I added a few of his songs to my workout playlist? Maybe. That's beside the point.

Ash wrapped me up in the arm bar yet again, my wrist screaming at me to tap out before it snapped in two. My fingers tapped his leg, and he released me.

“Alright Fireball, that’s enough for one day.” He stood, walking over to his corner where he kept his bag and water.

I noticed Noah had left, so I relaxed, straightening my shirt and making my way over to my own bag next to Ash.

“What am I doing wrong, dude? Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Honestly? You’re just off right now. Did something happen today?”

Rolling my eyes, I sprayed water into my mouth. “My bitch of a mother called me this morning.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That angered you?” His question was sincere. I didn’t share a lot about my personal life with my gym mates.

“It did.” Was all I gave before I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped my slides on.

He nodded in approval. “Trying to train angry never works. It makes you unfocused. That’s why we do breathing exercises beforehand.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Try to let it go. We’ll work on it more tomorrow.”

His words calmed my fried nerves ever so slightly, and I grinned at him.

“Thanks Ash. I’ll see you then.”

Life really fucking blows sometimes. The last week had been a shit show and a half, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t been back to the gym because work had kept me busy, then I got rear-ended, totaling my ‘98 Corolla, and had been dodging calls from my Mom every hour like clockwork.

Needless to say, when I stepped foot into the gym, the smell of perspiration and mat cleaner was like a breath of fresh air.

My eyes searched, noticing an unfamiliar class going. I spotted Ash, whose eyes flashed over to me before he halted his spar, and jogged over.

“Hey, you okay? Haven’t seen you in over a week.”

I nodded. “Rough few days, but I’m good now.”

He smiled, but a look of concern crossed his face.

“Gosh, Y/N, I’m sorry, but we’re not running regular classes this week. There’s a tournament on the weekend, we’ve got to train our competitors.”

My mood fell, my shoulders going with it. I needed the relief. I needed to train.

Ash saw my eyes, and a sympathetic look crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

I shook my head, waving a hand. “No, no. That’s okay. I totally understand.”

He chewed the inside of his lip, peering around the room. A sly smile perked up on his lips.

“Come here.” He motioned for me to follow, which I did, kicking my sandals off before entering the mat, giving a quick bow.

When we rounded the corner into the back of the gym, my feet halted just before the line of bags. Only one person was there, gloves and shin guards on, practicing his combinations.

Oh hell no.

“Y/N, why don’t you spar with Noah?”

My jaw dropped as he stopped mid-hook, pulling an earbud out. “What’s up?”

His chestnut brown hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his eyes were widened slightly. I suddenly felt very exposed, only in a sports bra and fitness leggings.

“Would you be willing to spar with Y/N?”

Noah’s eyes made a show of looking me up and down, a devious grin creeping over his face.

“Oh, of course.”

I snorted, looking at Ash. “Are you insane?”

He shrugged. “You’re my only two not competing. It gives you a way to train.”

Holding up a hand toward Noah, my voice raised several octaves. “How am I supposed to spar with him?! He’s a fucking tree!” I motioned to my own height. “I’m only five fucking three!”

Ash’s eyes narrowed at me, clearly not amused with my tantrum.

“Listen, this is the only solution I have for you this week. If you don’t want to, totally fine.” He interlocked his fingers. “But I think it would be good for you.” He glanced between us. “Both of you.”

And just like that, he left.

Noah stared at me now, waiting for my decision. I just shook my head and snarled. “Fuck this.”

Turning to leave, I heard his voice call after me. “Yeah, figured you’d be too scared.”

I froze mid-step, craning my neck to look back at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it. I’m intimidating.” He was unhooking his shin guards, tossing them to the side.

“Are you, now?” I turned back around, arms crossing over my chest.

His gloves went next, falling next to his bag. “Obviously.”

“You’re way out of my weight class, Noah.”

He smirked. “Calling me fat?”

I rolled my eyes. What a fucking douche.

“You have an unfair advantage with your long noodle limbs.”

He sucked his teeth, taking a short drink of water. “Having fun insulting me today, huh?”

“Doesn’t change the circumstance.”

“You joined martial arts for self defense, right?”

I jutted my hip out. “So?”

He set down his bottle, running long tattooed fingers through his damp hair.

“So, you think every attacker is going to be the same size and weight as you?”

This gave me pause. He had a point.

I let my bag fall casually off my shoulder, holding my arms up in defeat.

“Fine.” I stepped forward to the middle of the mat. “You want to spar? Let’s do it.”

His eyes sparkled, which made my breath catch for a second, as he walked over to me.

His long form bowed forward as I did, before we bent down in our stance.

It was as I expected; infuriating.

His arms could nearly wrap me around twice. His legs were surprisingly strong, his thighs much more muscular than I had originally anticipated. I kept having to tap, which was making me angrier with each match.

“This is bullshit!”

He hopped on the mat, keeping his blood flowing. “You’re overthinking it. Going rigid.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck that. I’m just too fucking small for this.”

He shook his head, eyes locked on my face. “You’re not. You need to let go. Quit thinking about it so hard.”

We restarted, and I let his words soak in. Feeling my heart beating, my lungs breathing, I let my body instinctively take over. Noah’s thighs wrapped around my waist, but I managed to wrap and arm between them, breaking his grip. Before I could celebrate my victory, he wrapped an arm around my neck, holding me in a reverse choke.

I had to stop and think. Lifting my arm, I found his neck, and locked in tight, causing him to double over, and his arm to slip.

I flipped away from him and stood back up, hands out and waiting. He grabbed me, but I was faster, sprawling low and taking out his right leg before wrapping his ankle in a crushing grip.

I felt his fingers tap my leg three times, and released him, squealing in excitement.

Jumping to my feet, I clapped my hands together, smiling wildly.

“I fucking did it!”

He laid flat on the mat, breathing heavily, and gave me a weak thumbs up. I stood over him, bent at the waist, and smiled as sugary as possible.

“You okay Daddy Long Legs?”

He lowered his eyebrows and licked his lips. “I like when you call me Daddy.”

Snickering, I stood up, reaching a hand out for him to use to stand up. Once on his feet, he padded over to his water bottle.

It had already been an hour, when I had the sense to check the time.

“Damn, I’ve got to get home. The cat needs to be fed.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Same time tomorrow?”

I smirked, shouldering my bag. “If you’re not too scared.”3

After three training sessions with Noah, I could feel my perspective of him begin to change ever so subtly. Sure, he was still a perverted douche, but he was also a really dedicated sparring partner. He was always on time, he was interested in my progress, and gave some pretty honest feedback about my technique.

Did I hate seeing him every day? No. Not exactly. I didn’t want to go as far as to say I enjoyed his company, but maybe I wore my nicer sports bras to the gym? Maybe my braids were pulled a little tighter because he was rough with them? Maybe I wore a light mist of body spray before I got there?

Maybe.

So, to my disappointment, come Wednesday, our fourth day training together, he wasn’t already there when I walked in. My face fell when I rounded the corner, expecting to catch him warming up on the bag. I had come to look forward to our banter back and forth prior to training. I also looked forward to watching him hit the bag, but I knew that was just because of his form. It was…exceptional.

Considering he could be stuck in traffic, or had a prior engagement, I decided to start warming up without him.

I made quick work of wrapping my hands and slipping my gloves on before starting my music and assaulting the bag in front of me. I let my mind wander while I pushed each combination out, using my emotions to channel the force.

Before I realized, I had listened to nearly half of my workout playlist, and there was still no sign of him. My head glanced around, and a deep feeling settled on my chest.

As much as I didn’t like the guy, it would’ve been nice for him to mention he wasn’t coming today. When I saw him yesterday, he didn’t say anything about skipping today. I couldn’t ask him myself. I didn’t know his number or any way to reach him.

Deciding it wasn’t worth the irritation, I stepped back from my bag, and began removing my gloves, tucking them back into my bag. As I did so, a flash flew by my peripheral vision, and I stood straight, noticing him.

Noah had walked - no, stomped on to the mat, flung his bag down, earbuds already in and blasting loudly in his ears, and hastily grabbed his gloves out, slipping them on.

I just stood, staring at him, leaning against my respective bag. He paid me no attention, not even glancing in my direction. Something had him pissed. His face had turned a harsh shade of crimson, only darkening as he went at the bag, his voice letting out sharp exclamations every so often.

Carefully, I took three steps closer, touching the bag next to him, eyes searching all over for a sign of what made him so angry. What had happened? Noah was one of the coolest cucumbers I had met in a long time, never bothered by seemingly anything.

Who had hurt him?

Deciding to chance it, knowing he couldn’t hear me, I let my fingers lightly touch the bag he punched during one of his ten second breaks.

For the first time, his eyes looked at me, and were almost black with the rage they held. It made me startle, my eyes widening.

“Noah?”

He rubbed at his ear with his glove, making one earbud fall out. “Not today, Y/N.”

His words didn’t leave room for pressure or questions.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not one to heed a warning.

Narrowing my eyes, I took a step forward as he raised his gloves again, standing between him and the bag still swaying.

His shoulders tensed, and he lowered his gloves, glaring at me.

“Move.”

I crossed my arms, and raised an eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“Or I will move you.”

Pursing my lips, I contemplated this. He could, if he wanted to.

“No.”

“Y/N, I’m not asking.” His voice was deadly.

“I’m not moving. Not until you talk to me.”

He furrowed his brow, incredulous. “About what?”

“What has you so upset?”

He bared his teeth, irritation rising. “Since when do we talk? You don’t even like me.”

Uncrossing my arms and opening myself a bit to show I wasn’t trying to be a complete pain in the ass, I shrugged. “I don’t dislike you.”

He scoffed, slipping his gloves off. “Since fucking when?”

“Since you turned out to be more tolerable than I originally thought.”

He shook his head, taking a long gulp from his bottle. “Thanks, doll. Appreciate that.”

Still raging, but slightly more approachable, I took a step toward where he stood at his gym bag.

“C’mon Noah. Maybe sparring will make you feel better?”

He waved at me, disregarding me. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Because…?” I leaned closer to where he was bent over the bag, unwrapping his hands.

“I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Standing up straight, I adjusted my sports bra, which I noticed his eyes caught.

“Then grapple with me.” My solution was simple.

After a moment of careful consideration, he eventually stood back up, staring as I made my way to the middle of the mat.

We bowed, and he leaned down, hands up. “I’m not holding back today.”

I smirked. “Please don’t. I want it all, baby boy.”

This triggered him, his hips dropping to the mat in a hard sprawl, arms wrapping up my waist, dropping me like a hot rock on my back. The air rushed from my lungs before I could prevent the grip he held on my torso. His arms squeezed me in a hard choke, but I wasn’t tapping today.

I managed to get a hand under his left thigh, bending it back at a long angle, making his grip falter just enough to get turned around in his arms. My head slipped loose, but he was back on me. Impossibly strong hands gripped my left thigh, flipping me onto my back. My legs instinctively wrapped around his midsection while he tried to get a grasp on my forearm, to which I squirmed, putting pressure on his rib cage with my legs.

A heavy, deep growl escaped his throat, which made my thighs involuntarily twitch around him. I don’t think he noticed. He was angry, fighting something other than myself at this moment.

His arms came up under mine, and he lifted me off of the ground, and dropped me back into my ass hard, popping my legs open.

My limbs sprawled out on the mat, my breath coming heavily, I looked up at him, wide-eyed. He kneeled over me, hair hanging off of his face in sweat-soaked tendrils, threatening to touch my forehead.

We sat there while I watched the darkness in his eyes dissolve, his breathing getting more and more even. The scowl on his face softened for a moment, and I couldn’t help when my hands reached up to grip his sides, squeezing in a hard grasp.

Noah was hurting. I didn’t know why. Something or someone had hurt him. And here, in this moment, I had him.

We knew so little of each other. Only having spent time in this safe haven together, we had bonded over the last few days, and I knew I was the only person who could relax the fire raging behind his chest right now.

“Noah?” I whispered into the space between us, fighting the urge to touch his face.

“Thanks.”

I quirked a brow. “For what?”

“Being here.”

Smiling, I pressed my fingers harder into his sides. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You don’t even know it, but you did.”

I did know, but hearing him say it gave me a small flutter in my chest.

“Anytime.”

I tapped my code into my phone, and opened the Uber app. Zipping my sweater against the cool spring air, I began the process of searching for a driver to take me home.

“Hey.” I turned to see him walking out behind me. “Headed home?”

I nodded. “Yeah, just got to wait for a driver.” I waved my phone for show.

“You have to call an Uber? Where’s your car?”

Shrugging, I looked back down at the app that stated it was still looking for a driver.

“Got totaled last week.”

He walked over to me. “Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No big deal.”

His eyes bounced between me, and the parking lot where his shiny black Navigator sat under the moonlight.

“Want a ride?”

I shook my head. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can get an Uber.”

He smiled, all sense of his earlier anger wiped clean. “I promise I’m cheaper.” His keys twirled around his long fingers.

I smirked, and closed my app. “Alright.”

The drive to my house wasn’t long, but before we even made it out of the parking lot, he looked over to me. “Hungry?”

I was leaned back, sending my mother a text. “Uh,” I locked my phone. “I mean, I never eat heavy after a workout.”

He nodded. “Same. But there’s a Yogurtland up the street?”

My lips pinched together. “What’s that?”

He turned out of the parking lot, but still managed to stare at me. “Frozen yogurt?”

I just threw my hands up. “Never had it.”

The look he gave me was as if I was insane. “You’ve never had frozen yogurt?”

“Isn’t it essentially just ice cream?”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. It’s better.”

“Pfft. I doubt that.”

He turned into the parking lot of the yogurt place, and enthusiastically jumped out of the truck. In the few minutes it took for us to get there, I had been working my Dutch braids out, letting my dark hair loose, waves set in from the style. Letting myself out of the truck, I stopped short when I noticed him standing in front of the store, staring at me.

“What?”

He had the smallest, most amused smile tugging at his lips. “Your hair.”

I walked toward him. “What? Is it all fucked up?” I started tousling it, pulling at the tangles.

“No. It looks nice. I’ve never seen it down.”

I thought about it. I always kept my braids in at the gym. I wasn’t trying to have it ripped from my scalp.

“Oh.” A hot blush crept up my neck. “Thanks.”

I slipped in the door past him toward the counter. He proceeded to spend five whole minutes explaining flavors, toppings, mixes, and syrups to add.

After I finally elected for a simple vanilla with raspberries on top, and he went with chocolate with Oreo pieces, we found a small table and sat down.

He watched intently as I tried it, waiting for a reaction. I was pleasantly surprised.

“So?” I glanced up at him. “What do you think?”

Swallowing my spoonful, I nodded. “I’m impressed. Still like ice cream better.”

He rolled his eyes digging into his own cup.

“So,” I started, mixing my raspberries in. “you think you’re ready to talk about it?”

He stopped, his spoon halfway to his mouth, and eyed me curiously. “Why do you want to know?”

My yogurt was already starting to melt. “I’m just wondering. You were pretty upset tonight.”

He just nodded, looking into his cup, pushing the Oreos around. “I was.”

“You don’t actually have to tell me. I just know from experience that it usually helps.”

“Does it?” He still wasn’t looking at me.

“It can. Especially with someone who doesn’t know about it.”

I watched as his throat moved when he swallowed. “I’ve got a friend…” He stopped. “Had a friend. He passed away a couple years ago.”

I just sat, watching him, giving him space.

“We released a song with his band. It was a tribute sort of thing.” Dropping his cup, he leaned back. “Anyway, it came out about a week ago.”

He had stopped speaking, fingernail picking at the cuticle on his thumb.

“And it made you upset?”

“It hurt.” The sound of his voice was a soft echo, the words catching behind his tonsils.

The overwhelming temptation to stand up and wrap my arms around him gnawed at me as I watched his eyes well up, his face twisting to try and push them back down.

Instead, I settled on reaching a hand across the table, slipping my fingers around his wrist.

His eyes gazed up at me, and he gave me the most heartbreaking smile.

“I’ll be alright. It was just a gut punch, you know?”

Grazing a thumb over his tattoos, I stared at him deeply, attempting to convey my condolences.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Noah.”

A sniffle cleared the air, and he lifted a hand to make quick work of wiping his eyes.

“Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it.”

After yogurt, I made it a point to make sure Noah had my cell number in case he ever needed to talk. I almost regretted it, as he had been sending me memes nearly since we parted ways last night.

When I stepped into the gym, the energy was fervent. Fighters rolling around the mats in all directions, preparing for the approaching competition.

I made my way to the back, now quickly becoming a normal routine, and hid my excitement when I was met with chocolate brown eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile.

Noah was sitting on the mat, stretching his long limbs, so I quickly set my bag down and joined him. Each time I would change positions, a finger would come up to poke me in the side, making me almost fall.

“Knock it off!” I swatted at his hand, an involuntary giggle escaping.

“Just making sure you’re loosened up! I’m not taking it easy on you!”

I shook my head, standing back up straight. “Is that what yesterday was? Because I think my tailbone is bruised now.”

He cackled. “You want me to rub it for you?” He threw a wink at me, and I felt my insides spasm.

“Not necessary. Just remember, I’m a lady.”

He scoffed loud. “Yeah, and I’m an acrobat.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re in for it Sebastian.”

We had been grappling for longer than normal, each round both of us wanting more. We would laugh when we made the other tap out, mocking each other playfully, forcing the other to be even more savage during the next match. Our bodies were both broken out in a heavy sweat, slipping over each other and leaving a wet sheen on the mat.

"Motherfucker!" I squealed when he pulled me up in another arm bar while I kicked my legs up, trying to hook onto him anywhere I possibly could.

"C'mon doll, tap out."

I snarled at him, trying not to jostle my arm too much. My hips fought for leverage, but his legs over my stomach made it impossible to lift myself.

"You're not getting out of this, Y/N. Tap out."

"Fuck you!"

He chuckled. "If you insist."

Fucking perv.

After another two minutes of struggling, I finally huffed and tapped his shin. He released me instantly, popping up on his feet.

"Sorry, doll. We need to work on that one." He sprayed water in his mouth and I glared at him from where I sat on the mat.

"Quit calling me doll."

He smirked, walking over to hand me my own water. "Why? You know you like it."

I snorted. "No, I fucking don't."

"You do."

Rolling my eyes, I kicked at his legs. He just laughed at me.

Plopping down on the mat next to me, he bumped my shoulder. "You're improving a lot, you know."

I smiled. "Thanks. I feel like I am."

"The arm bar is the worst. I can barely get out of them myself."

Leaning back on my hands, I stretched. "Ugh, I should get home."

Rising up on my feet, I made my way over to my bag.

"Oh."

This made me turn around. Did he sound...sad?

"What?" I asked him while wiping my forehead with a towel.

"I was just having fun." He stood, walking to his bag and mirroring my actions.

This made me smile. "Same time tomorrow?"

He pulled his lips to the side, thinking about something he wasn't saying out loud. I ignored it, now wiping the sweat from the back of my neck.

"I mean, or we could," He hesitated, grinning and looking nervous. "hang out?"

I dropped my towel back in my bag. "Hang out?"

"Yeah, like last night."

"You want to get yogurt again?"

He shouldered his bag, and I did the same. We walked toward the edge of the mat, bowing out.

"We don't have to. Could get pizza?"

"Mm, I don't eat heavy after a workout."

He nodded. "Right." We made our way out of the gym. "We could...go to my place?"

My eyebrows shot up, surprised. "Your place?"

His eyes popped open wide, just now realizing what he had suggested, and how it sounded.

"I just mean to hang out! We could like, order food and play video games or something?" His words came out rushed, nearly stumbling over one another.

I smirked, pulling my hoodie over my head to protect from the chill. "I'm a sweaty mess."

"So am I." Noah took a step into my space, eyes looking down at me. "Doesn't bother me."

Ending up at Noah Sebastian's house was not on the agenda for today. Somehow, however, I stood in his living room, eyes darting around, hand firmly grasping my gym bag.

"You want something to drink?"

I snapped out of my trance and looked at him. "Uh, sure."

My feet followed him while he listed off the options. "I've got water, Gatorade, green tea, and Dr. Pepper."

Opting for water, he reached into the fridge and tossed it at me, grabbing one for himself and motioning for me to follow after him. He lead me up a tall, wrapping staircase down the hall to a bedroom at the end. The room was obsessively clean, making me feel wrong just stepping foot inside.

"This is it. It's not much." He ran a hand through his hair, spreading his arm out toward the room.

His words were comical, given the room was massive. A large, king sized bed the centerpiece. A rolling trunk sat on the floor at the edge, and his comforter and pillows were black. Tucked into the corner was a computer desk with a double monitor gaming setup perched on top. There was a loveseat futon sat on the side of the room with a small table sitting in front. Various anime figures adorned the surface of the table, and LED strip lights hung along the perimeter of the room.

"I didn't, uh," His face was turned up in a grin. "really think about what we would do once we got here."

Taking a careful step into the room, I smiled back at him. "Food?"

His eyes widened, and he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Right! What do you feel like?"

Attempting to ease the awkward tension, I walked over to the couch and sat down. "I'm pretty simple. Anything works."

He was scrolling, looking at his screen. "Sandwiches?"

I leaned back on the couch, nodding. "Sure."

After about an hour, we had fallen into a comfortable rhythm of him sitting in his computer chair, and me on the couch, while he chatted between bites of his sub.

"We've only been back from tour for like, two weeks?" He set his sandwich down, wiping his face with a napkin. "We haven't made plans for any more shows yet. We need to take some time to prepare the re-release of the album."

I was chewing my food, being wildly careful not to drop anything on the couch. "Have you decided when it will be released?"

He shook his head. "It's more up to the label, but it's not ready yet anyway."

"The last album was good."

His eyes became almost glittery, hearing what I said. "You've heard it?"

"I listened to it once or twice." I smirked, trying to hide my face with my sandwich.

"Just the last album?" He had me. He knew I was bluffing.

"Well, I pulled you up on iTunes when I realized you were a musician."

His tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip. "Which is your favorite song?"

Without thinking, I spoke. "Dethrone."

The shit-eating grin that crawled over his face had me giggling nervously.

"I like working out to it."

He stood, crumpling the paper from his sandwich and tossed it in the garbage. He flopped down next to me on the couch, only inches between us. I set the half of my sandwich on the paper laid out on the table.

"Well, I'm glad you like our music." He was balancing his head on his palm, triumphant smile on his face.

"Are we just going to talk about you the whole night?"

"Oh, you want to talk about you? We can do that."

I leaned back. "Like?"

"Favorite movie."

"The Crow."

He quirked a brow, but didn't question further.

"Favorite TV show?"

"Buffy The Vampire Slayer."

He laughed at that. "Seriously?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't hate on Buffy."

He threw his hands up in defense. "Hey, it's a classic." He tapped a finger on his chin. "Favorite place?"

"Place, as in...location?"

"Or whatever it means to you."

I had to think about this one. "My room."

"Really?"

I just nodded. "It's mine. I have it set up exactly how I like it. My roommate is mostly who decorated the rest of the apartment. It's nice, but my room? My room is all me."

Tightening his lips, he gave a look of approval.

"Fair enough." He took a moment to think. "Favorite food?"

"Ah," I stretched my arms out. "Probably Japanese."

He smiled. "Yeah? Same."

He took a while to think over his next question, really working on it.

"Favorite anime?"

Uh-oh, he caught me.

"Oof." I averted his gaze. "I actually don't really watch anime."

I expected a more energetic response, but instead he just said, "No? Why not?"

I shrugged. "Could never get into it? I watched one all the way through, but I couldn't find another that interested me."

"Which one?"

"Tokyo Ghoul."

His eyes lit up. "That's my favorite." He reached over, grabbing a PlayStation controller off of the table and switching it on. When the device surged to life, the background showed an illustration of Ken Kaneki in his ghoul mask, red eye bleeding.

I smiled. "It's the only one that held my interest."

"You've never tried Attack on Titan?"

Shaking my head, I looked back at him. "Never heard of it."

"Want to give it a try? It's dark. You might like it."

"Sure."

He took a few moments to get the show prepared, and I took the opportunity to finish my sandwich, tossing the paper out.

"You want a blanket?" He turned the room light off, turning the LED's up to a warm white light, giving the environment a comfortable feel.

"I'm okay, for now."

He sat down, keeping at least half a foot of distance between us, and began playing the show.

I wanted to pay attention, I really did, but his hand was resting on the couch, fingers splayed out right next to my leg, and it was all I could think about. His eyes were trained on the TV, which made it harder not to stare at him. His features were so striking; eyes a deep brown, hair pushed back and hanging lazily, tattoos littering nearly every inch of his skin. I felt myself salivate while wondering where all he was tattooed, and if I would have the chance to see them.

In an attempt to distract myself, I began removing my braids, taking a second to shake my hair out before I ran a hand through it, trying to get comfortable. I tucked legs underneath myself, my shorts making me feel more exposed than I would've liked.

That's when I felt his eyes on me, covering every inch of me. His fingers were so subtly slipping closer to my thigh on the couch. I tried breathing, but keeping a steady pace was impossible when he was staring.

How far could we take this? How much did I want to allow?

I shifted casually, clearing my throat, and letting the skin of my leg brush his hand. I watched as his eyes shot down to the connection, not moving an inch. His fingers were cool against my warm skin. I leaned back on the couch, pressing my leg closer to him.

His hand slipped, then, up the side of my leg, coming to rest on the top of my thigh. I felt my lip twitch, so I leaned into his hand, pressing my skin into his palm.

When I finally dared to look over, he was staring directly at me, face unwavering, looking absolutely ravenous.

The tension struck me, ripping a cord inside my chest. I wasn't going to sit like this forever.

I leaned forward, taking hold of his shoulder, and pulled my face impossibly close to his. His eyes roamed over me, contemplating his next move. The hand he had on my leg was now wrapped around my back, holding me in place as I stared at him, waiting.

I counted six calculated breaths before he finally leaned in, pressing his lips to mine, and I took my time inhaling his scent. He smelled like the woods; earthy and pine mixed with salt.

The hand he had holding my back pulled, pressing me closer to him. I opened my mouth to allow his tongue to slide across my teeth, licking into my lips. A low moan escaped me, and it was like a switch had flipped.

His mouth was hungrily attacking mine, using the same energy he typically exhausted back in the gym. His arms flipped me back, landing me on the cushions, and pressed himself against me.

I hooked my left leg on his hip, using steady pressure to keep his waist pushed flush to my body, my hips grinding against him.

Humming into my mouth, he pulled his face back, studying me for a moment. I laid, mouth open and breathing heavily, staring up at him.

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that?"

Rolling my eyes, I leaned my hips up, pressing against the hard bulge in his shorts. "You seem to think so."

He hissed, applying the same pressure back against me. "I have for a while now."

"Yeah?" I let one hand snake down between us, pressing against his cock over the fabric. "Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do?"

A soft, whispering whimper left his lips. "I've got some ideas."

He crashed his lips back down, nipping and biting at my lips, and began making his way down my jaw. His teeth grazed my pulse point, licking a stripe up my windpipe.

"Well," I breathed out. "you going to act on those ideas? Or just lick me all day?"

His head snapped up, and the darkest, most mischievous grin graced his features, which made a chill run up my spine.

"So fucking glad you asked."

#fanfic #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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queenlua · 2 months

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who are these people writing reviews of middle grade / young adult stuff on goodreads like "UM EXCUSEZ-MOI, THIS BOOK HAS UNPLEASANT ISSUES THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL MIDDLE SCHOOLERS" and the list of issues is like. the existence of 9/11. eldercare. other extraordinarily anodyne shit

like (1) kids have a basic fucking ability to process grief and bad things happening. like why on earth should a middle schooler find The Fact That Sometimes People Get Old And Need Care "inappropriate." i'm pretty sure you can explain that shit to, like, a six year old, and they will not break down or get traumatized or anything

and (2) did these people not grow up in houses with books. like when i was bored as a kid i'd go raid my dad's study for random lurid medical texts or i'd steal whatever the hell my mom was reading for her book club that month or i'd raid grandma's attic for some REALLY spin-the-roulette-wheel stuff. plenty of sex & violence & whatever else in all these books and you know what it was fucking fine. some stuff went over my head (in which case who cares no harm done), and sometimes i learned a new thing (which is fine??? if i was too distressed i could just close the fucking book???) ((which ok i did have to stop reading twenty pages from the end of All Quiet On The Western Front at age 10, because i simply could not bear to watch yet another poor fuckin sweet little german teenage boy die in some horrible way for no fucking reason, and you know what, that's called The Book Was Working & i regret the experience exactly zero)). and when We Need To Talk About Kevin dropped, e.g. the book about a creepy school shooter dude, mom simply could not finish reading the book in time for book club, because me & my brother kept stealing it from her & we had like multiple lengthy dinner conversations about it. which is a cool and fun way to think about a text. like did these people just not absorb any real media with any real themes until age 22 or something i legit don't get it

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gojos-thot-patrol · 1 year

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Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a curseless AU set in the early 2000s.

Synopsis: Neither one of you are quite over your "Relationship" If you could call it that. You had been avoiding him since the breakup for that very reason. He was the last person you ever expected to see at this party.

The wind was bitterly cold. You blew the smoke out of your lungs, watching it swirl into the clouds and praying it would take you with it. You didn't want to be here. You hated parties. You hated this town.

"There you are!" Your friend groaned as she came outside. "God, you're way too good at disappearing. I've been looking for you everywhere." You took a moment to take her in. Her eyes were filled with worry for you, frustration etched into her eyebrows. You hated to admit it, but you liked that she worried. It made you feel loved again. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Yep. I'm here. You should have guessed," you chuckled, throwing your cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out.

"Come inside," she insisted, "it's freezing out here." She was right. October nights had always been bitter, but tonight had a particular edge to it. You nodded to her as you slipped your hands into your hoodie.

"I'm coming."

"Try to look like you don't hate it here" your friend teased, "miserable is not a good look on you." You disagreed. You thought misery was your default. It was glamorous. It was vintage. It was hand tailored for you. At least, that's how it felt these days. Since things had ended. It had only been six months since your relationship failed, but it felt closer to six decades. Suguru’s ghost clung to you, haunted your body and mind. It felt like you were never not thinking about him. You wondered what you’d do if you saw him again.

“Ah, but that's the thing,” you half laughed, “I do hate it here. Frat parties are for people who like other people. And that's not me.”

“While true, they’re also for people who want to get black out drunk and forget their ex, which is you.” Your friend argued. I mean, shit when she was right she was right. The two of you walked back into the party, the music blasting top twenty pop hits into the air and shaking your soul out of your body. You tied your hoodie around your waist, the heat becoming thick faster than you expected it to. Your friend yelled…something you couldn’t decipher into your ear before disappearing into the crowd. Fuck.

You sighed and made your way through the ocean of college kids, all swaying, making waves in time with the music. You found your way to the kitchen, mixing yourself a vodka redbull. You drank it far too quickly, made yourself another one, and got about half way through it before you took another breath. You tuned back into the music, just to roll your eyes. Who burned the CD for this party anyway? You were sure this party couldn’t get any worse. Then it did.

You made eye contact with him the moment he walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disinterested. Satoru was going on and on about something inconsequential, you were sure, and Suguru was looking for a drink to help make his best friend bearable. His corpse eyes found a light in them as they connected with yours. You were sure whatever light you may have had left in your eyes faded instantly. You finished your drink.

“Dude, are you even listening to-..oh.” Satoru cut his own sentence off as he realized what, or rather who his best friend was staring at. Shit. There was a solid five seconds of the three of you just staring at eachother in a fucked up standoff. Each waiting for the other to make a movie while Brittnay sang about genies in the other room. He looked better than you were fully willing to admit, wearing tripp pants and an old Korn tee over a mesh shirt. Your breath felt heavy in your throat. Memories of the last night you saw him exploded in your mind like war flashbacks. The tears, the fighting, the begging. The goodbye. Fuck.

He made a b-line to you and you b-lined to the back door, your closest escape. “Dude, stop!-” You heard Satoru call, no doubt chasing after Suguru. You were thankful for him. He was rarely the rational one between the two of them, but he was normally able to bring Suguru back to earth when he lost his mind. Maybe that was why they worked. You didn't really care to give it much thought anymore honestly.

“Y/n!” you heard your ex call for you. Fuck he sounded close. You could hear the chains on his tripp pants rattle as he made his way to you. You started to run. You hated making a scene but you couldn’t see him. For all the times you wondered what you’d do if you saw him again, running wasn’t ever really one of the options, but you’re here now. You made your way out the back gate and to your car. Your salvation. You picked up the pace, unlocking your car and falling into the seat with a swiftness that shocked even you. You let out a sigh of relief as your car door closed behind you. Finally, safe. You took out your phone to let your friend know you were leaving.

“Y/n!” Suguru called out as he plopped down in your passenger seat, scaring a squeal out of you. What the fuck?!

“Get out you bastard!” You yelled at him.

“I just want to talk!” He said back, not yelling, but definitely talking louder than he normally did.

“You’ve fucking lost it Geto!” You matched his tone, “This is breaking and entering!”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies to buildings, Gorgeous.” He grinned, and it was so charming you almost forgot you hated him.

“Don’t call me gorgeous!” You hissed, “I have nothing to say to you!”

“I have so much to say to you though!”

“Too bad, get out of my car!”

“Give me five minutes!”

“No! I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive like this Y/n! You’re drunk.” You started to yell a comeback, but realized you didn’t have one. He was right. You were starting to feel the drinks of the nights, and we're definitely not good to drive.

“Then I’ll walk home!” You scoffed. And he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh.

“No you won’t.” He chuckled, “You live too far away. Plus, you would never leave your car unattended at a frat party.” He was right again. You hated how well he knew you. “Let me drive you.” He offered.

“No. you’re drunk too.” you scoffed.

“Am not,” He informed you, “I just got here.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to just…get into my fucking car?” You asked, still flabbergasted by the audacity. The Suguru you knew would never have done that. He fumbled, looking for an answer. Truth was, he didn’t know why he did it either.

“I miss you Y/n.” was the best he could offer. You sighed, a deep sigh that felt like it was pulled straight out of your sorrow and you threw your head back onto your headrest. You stared at the roof of your car. This was a bad idea. Suguru came with far too many emotions. Wounds that had barely had time to scab over were ripping open in real time, bigger than they ever were before.

If you were smart, you would have gotten out of the car. You would have found Gojo to have him collect Suguru, and found your friend to have them drive you home. Or at least have them call you a cab. If you were smart, you would have told him to leave you the fuck alone. You would have saved your heart the extra heart break. You would have forced yourself to remember all the fighting that led you to where you were now, the pain, the heartbreak, the neglect.

But, you weren’t feeling particularly bright that night. And all you could remember was the soft Suguru. The one that held you close at night, and asked before he kissed you. The one that took you out on late night dates in famous cemeteries cause he read it in a romance novel and thought it was just oh so romantic. You sighed and handed him your keys.

He gave a far too enthusiastic Yes! As the two of you changed seats. You settled into the passenger seat, already regretting your decision. You buckled up as he started the car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking at you. You returned the look, though yours was laced with far more annoyance.

“I’m annoyed.” you respond. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying, food would be nice. Would probably help you avoid a hangover too.” A hangover sounded like a nightmare. Once again, you relented.

“Fine, but you’re paying.” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said, pulling out to the street. He turned up the radio, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the song. Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. It made you smile too. Suddenly, you weren’t in your car anymore. You were sitting on Toji Zenins couch, nervously fiddling with your hands as he weighed out an ounce of weed. He’d been your plug for a few weeks at that point, but you still hadn’t grown used to his aura.

You jumped when there was a knock at his door, and he looked just as confused before a realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. I think I okay-ed two people to come over on accident.” he laughed to himself. “Hope that's okay Y/n.” he said, going to get the door. It wasn’t, you wanted to leave. But, you didn’t say that. Sometimes you wished you did.

“Heyy! Weedman!” You heard a now familiar, but then utterly unrecognizable voice. “Thanks for covering me on such short no- Oh, hello!” Gojo said as he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting awkwardly on the couch. Suguru was behind him, quietly observing you. He smiled softly, raising his hand in a wave. His long black hair perfectly framed his sculpted face. His kind eyes seemed mismatched with his almost mischievous smile. You couldn't help but be sucked into his orbit. You smiled gently and waved back.

“Hi.” before you knew it, Suguru was sitting next to you while Gojo rambled about..something. Honestly, he was always rambling about something. You don’t know why you didn’t leave after you got your weed. Maybe it was because Toji offered to smoke with the three of you to apologize for double booking, maybe it was because Geto kept managing to catch your eye. Either way, the two of you hadn’t really spoken, Toji and Satoru speaking enough for both of you.

Suguru passed a joint to you as Everlong came on the radio. Toji grimace. “Man, this song is shit.” He said, going to turn it off.

“Watch yourself Zenin,” Suguru said, pointing at Toji and stopping him in his tracks. “This songs hot as fuck, disrespect it again and we’re gonna have a problem.” You really liked Sugurus' voice.

“Chillax man, this songs not worth trippin’ over.” Toji scoffed, “Especially considering it’s not good.”

“I like it.” You said, the weed making you feel bolder than usual. “I really like the Foo Fighters.”

“Not you too Y/n.” Toji groaned, finally stepping away from the stereo. Suguru looked at you and grinned. It made butterflies explode in your stomach.

“I knew you had taste.” He praised. It was the first thing he had ever said to you.

“Here.” Suguru said, handing you your drink and jerking you off of memory lane. You grabbed the drink and thanked him. You realized the two of you were parked now. You looked at the burger he handed you and smiled.

“You remember my order.” You commented. He scoffed as if that was almost insulting.

“Of course I do. I remember everything about you.” He muttered. The two of you started to eat, a pregnant silence filling the car. That pregnant silence, then gave birth to many other smaller but just as intense silences. Blink 182 played softly in the background, but no matter how many times Mark Hoppus asked what his age was, it didn’t cut through the awkwardness in that car.

“Look, Y/n, I know I-” Suguru started. Rage and despair welled up inside of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Geto.” You said very bluntly, finishing your fries.

“But I-” he started, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to push his already unbelievable luck. But someone had to say something. He smiled softly to himself. “Hey, do you remember when the Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped By The Way-”

“Album or song?” You cut him off to ask.

“Album,” He clarified, “And we raided 7/11 and drove around all night, listening to it on repeat.” You laughed because you did remember that. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You could still taste the blue slushy on your tongue as you tried desperately to analyze lyrics while Suguru insisted The Red Hot Chili Peppers were not the kinda band you analyze the lyrics too, they’re the band you get high to.

Still, you remembered getting goosebumps the first time you heard Midnights, the opening verse of “Things will never be the same/Still I'm awfully glad I came/Resonating in the shape of things to come/Never waiting when I know there's only one” Speaking to your soul in ways you didn’t quite understand then, but felt like you did now.

“Yea, I remember,” You giggled, “I think there's still a stain on my seat from you getting mustard on it.” You said, searching for said blemish, “Yea! There it is, right there!” The permanent mark he left in your car.

“Hey, it is not my fault that you can't eat 7/11 hot dogs without mustard.” He laughed.

“No, but it is your fault you couldn't keep it on your dog, you dog!” You teased.

“I blame Anthony Kiedis.” He grinned with a shrug. This was nice. This felt like old times. This felt like the moments where he was actually him.

“I think that album’s still in my car.” you muttered.

One whirlwind later and you were getting slurpees at 7/11, the cashier looking at the two of you with disdain as you laughed and made a mess of the machine he just cleaned. Blue for you, red for him, just like it had always been. Suguru had to grab sour gummy worms and twizzlers. He still couldn’t leave a convenience store without them. He didn’t even like twizzlers, not really. It just ‘felt right’ to grab them. Whatever that means.

You were looking through your CD case when suddenly, he stopped you.

“We got to listen to a different album.” He said out of nowhere.

“What?” You scoffed.

“We can’t try to recreate the magic of the By The Way album release. It would be disingenuous.” He insisted.

“I thought that was the whole point!” You argued, before groaning. “Ugh, Fine! Umm…” You shuffled through CDs. “Fall Out Boy just released an album.”

“Who?” He asked, squinting his eyes in confusion.

“They’re a new band out of Chicago. This is their debut studio album, it’s called Take This To Your Grave.” you said, holding up the blue jeweled case. Suguru looked…hurt. Like the cavalry had come and made it their personal mission to trample him into the dust.

“You’ve been listening to new bands without me?” He asked, starting the car. That bitter taste of resentment filled your mouth again.

“Well, yea. Life didn’t end because we did.” Besides, this album had been helping you more than you were willing to admit. He nodded in defeat, biting his lip as the two of you pulled onto the road.

“Play it.” he muttered. You didn’t know if you were thrilled with or deeply regretted your decision to play this album, but the opening verse was cutting. Light that smoke, Yeah, one for giving up on me/ And one just 'cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations/ To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar)/ I could have died with you.

“Well fuck Y/n, Is there something you’d like to say to me?” He tried to laugh, but the humor didn’t make it to his voice. “Feels a little targeted.” you shrugged.

“We all cope in different ways.” you muttered. You thought back on your relationship. A backseat romance that belonged to parking lots and famous cemeteries. A relationship that existed on highways and at dingy basement shows, and always on his terms. It was fun at first, even you had to admit. And, maybe it could have stayed as just fun, if he wasn’t so fucking…sweet! He was always so tender with you in the afterglow of your nights together, even if that just met cleaning you up with fast food napkins in his back seat. He was a cuddler too, insisting on you staying the night with him after your nights together under the guise of it being late, when you both knew it was so the two of you could hold each other.

It wasn’t just the after care though, or the sex for that matter. It was him bringing you candy and setting up a movie marathon when he knew you were struggling with your classes. It was him giving you a copy of Rebecca that he annotated because he wanted to share his thoughts with you about it. It was him giving you a copy of The Color and the Shape album because it had Everlong on it, and that was “Our Song” according to him. How could you not have fallen in love?

It started to hurt. That he was so willing to be so sweet and tender with you behind closed doors, but the moment you wanted to be something more, he froze. Suddenly, he didn't know why you guys needed to put a label on things! You guys were having fun, why did you want to mess up ‘the dynamic’ whatever the fuck that ment. Yea, he was fun. But you were tired of being just another hook up in a dingy venue bathroom. Absolutely sick of having to sneak out of his bedroom window, because his roommates would start asking questions if they saw you there for the fourth time that week. He constantly promised he was going to make things official, he just needed time. But, it wasn’t like you were asking him to fucking marry you, just to change your fucking title and maybe take you out on a real date every once in awhile.

Doubts started to fill your head. There had to be a reason he wouldn’t commit to you, right? Was it another girl? Was something wrong with you? It all came to a head six months ago. The two of you were laying in his bed, Crestfallen by The Smashing Pumpkins softly playing in the background as the two of you shared a cigarette, pleasure still throbbing between your legs as you listened to the steady beat of his heart.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He purred, gently petting your head. You hummed in response, not really believing it at this point. He picked up on your doubt, “I’m serious.” he doubled down. “You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with.” He chuckled.

“That so?” You asked, taking the cigarette from him, “Then why aren’t I your girlfriend?” you asked, blowing smoke in his face. He grimaced as he waved it away.

“We’re doing this again? Seriously?” he seemed so…annoyed. Like this whole conversation equated to a nat he couldn’t quite seem to swat.

“No.” you shut down, “We’re not.”

“Good.” he said, taking the smoke back, “I’ve told you before, we’re perfect as we are.”

“Perfect for you maybe.”

“Y/n.”

“What? You can’t seriously be shocked I don’t agree with you.” you scoffed, rage starting to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m not shocked. I just don’t get it. What could you possibly get out of a title that’s worth all of the fighting you’re doing for it?” you could feel yourself seething, your blood boiling over. Did he ever listen to you?

“Well, for starters I’d get the safety of knowing that you probably weren't out sleeping around with anyone willing to open their legs for you.” It was Getos turn to seethe. You could tell by the way his jaw clenched that you had struck a nerve deep inside him.

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing in my free time? Just fucking anyone and everyone? That I’m so pussy motivated I just can’t keep it in my pants? Well if that's the case, Babe,” The word ‘Babe” had never sounded so dirty. You would have rather he called you slut, bitch, dumbass, anything. “What makes you think that having a “GiRlFrIeNd is going to magically make me loyal? Huh? What then, Gorgeous? And, not to be that guy, but you’ve let me fuck you in just about every venue, parking lot, and random bedroom this town has to offer, and I’m not even your boyfriend. So who’s to say you’re going to keep your legs shut just because we’re official, huh Sweetheart?”

Suguru could make you feel on top of the world, or cheaper than dirt depending on his mood. That was the problem with English majors. They had a way with words and more often than not they used them for evil. Any heat you had left drained from your body, replaced only with an inescapable emptiness as you realized the Suguru you convinced yourself was next to you may not have even existed.

And Geto knew he fucked up. He regretted the words as they were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself and he couldn’t put them back now. The silence was heavy with all the words the two of you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

“Y/n-” Geto started, hand reaching for your shoulder, but all it did was break you out of your daze. You snapped, slapping his hand away as you got up and dressed.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“Y/n, wait, please, I didn’t mean that-” He struggled to defend himself, hurriedly putting on his pants.

“You fucking said it Suguru! Lose my goddamn number, I am so fucking done here. It’s so good to know i’m just a fucking fleshlight to you.” you hissed, rushing out of his room.

“I never said that Y/n! You mean so much more to me than that, don’t go!-” he said, following you out.

“Clearly I fucking don’t!” You snapped. Oh good. His roommates, Satoru and Sukuna, were both sitting in the living room.

“Yes you do Y/n, I love you!” He pleaded. He had never said that before. Satoru audibly gasped. Your entire body seized and seethed. You turned around and smacked him across the face without thinking, making Sukuna laugh,

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again Suguru Geto.”

“I’m not lying Y/n-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off. “I don’t fucking care anymore. You are the worst mistake I have ever fucking made.” You wanted to sound intimidating, but the tears in your voice gave you away. You rushed out of the door before he could see you cry, almost laughing at the “Have a good night!” Sukuna threw your way as you did.

The sound of a car door closing snapped you out of your day dream. You were at another convenience store. When did you get here? Suguru had just plopped in the seat next to you, handing you a bag.

“Hold these for me, will you, beautiful?” He asked. You did as he asked, looking into the bag.

“Suguru, these are four lokos.” You pointed out.

“Yep. best flavors too.” While you may agree with the green apple, he also had a gold flavored one, which was just objectively wrong. Not the point.

“Dude, these will fuck you up, what do you think you’re doing?” You asked as he pulled into a park less than a block away from your apartment. The two of you had spent many a night here on the swings.

“Trying to get fucked up, duh.” He laughed as he took the bag. He handed you the green apple flavored can of death. You sighed as you took it, getting out of the car and moving to sit on the hood with him. You noticed he had turned off the CD, Like a Stone now drifting softly from your car speakers. You wondered when he finally gave up on it. You finally opened the green camo can, and winced as the drink electrocuted your now sober nervous system.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the alcohol saturated your systems. You wondered why you were here with him. What kept you coming back to Suguru Geto. Why couldn’t you just move on? Suddenly, you felt it in your bones when Chris Cornell groaned out “In your house, I long to be/ Room by Room, patiently/ I’ll wait for you there/ Like a stone”

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the silence. Your head whipped over to him. He was staring up at the stars. He looked so delicate in that moment. Like a gust of wind would shatter him into stardust.

“What for?” You thought you knew, but you had to hear him say it.

“Everything.” Oh god, there were tears in his voice. It made you put down your four loko. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said to you the last time I saw you. I’m sorry I just tried to call instead of coming to face you, like a coward. And I’m sorry I couldn’t just man the fuck up and make you my girlfriend.” The words were tumbling out of him faster than he could process them, leaving him more vulnerable and honest than he would have liked.

It shook you. You weren't prepared for him to be so vulnerable with you that night. “It’s fine Suguru.” You muttered. He laughed and shook his head, finally looking at you.

“No it’s not. I hurt you.” He said matter of factly. “And then, I doubled down on it to make it all worse.” you were silent for a moment, staring at your dirty converse.

“W…why were you so against being with me officially?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing heavy on you for so long now.

“I was scared.” He finally admitted. “I was so scared that if we put a label on it, things would change. That suddenly we wouldn’t be hanging out because we liked to be with each other anymore, that we’d just be doing it out of obligation.”

“Suguru, that's dumb.” You sighed, the booze making you a little more blunt that you otherwise would have been.

“I know that.” He laughed, bringing his knees to his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I thought if I kept you at an arm's length, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There would be that space. But, I don’t know how to keep you at an arm's length. You’re like my favorite song, you get stuck in my head and I don’t even want to get you out. I just want you closer. So, I thought I’d maintain that space by just…not labeling us. And that clearly did more harm than good. When you left, I tried to just…let you go” he sighed, leaning back against the windshield of your car. He looked at you with love and adoration glimmering in his eyes.

“I figured it was better that way, I tried to forget you. Yea, turns out that's a lot easier said than done. God, I can’t even think about listening to the Foo Fighters anymore. Which, Fucking Sucks because Everywhere But Here just dropped and I can’t bring myself to listen to it because you’re not there.” he laughed at his own stupidity, his palm meeting his forehead. He still couldn’t believe it took him losing you to realize how much you met. How cliche.

You felt a lump in your throat. You had been wanting to listen to that album too, but couldn’t without him. It didn’t feel right. It felt like cheating. It was why you had picked up the fall out boy album instead. “You know,” You started, “You really hurt me. Like, you really fucking hurt me Suguru.”

“I know-” He sighed.

“But.” You cut him off, “I’ve also been a mess without you. It’s weird. You don’t really know how much you care about something until you’re missing it. And I thought I really cared about you even before the breakup.” You half chuckled to yourself. “And I mean, I want to still be mad about the fight. I want to hold it over your head. I wish I could hate you even half as much as I hate myself. But, I just can’t. I miss you.” you sighed, feeling foolish.

Suguru suddenly placed his hand on top of yours, pulling you out of your spiral. “I miss you too.” He confessed. Followed by a pause. “It’s not too late for us, ya know.” He finally said. “I’d really love to make you my girlfriend Y/n.”

🎵🎵🎵

Laughter filled the air as the two of you walked to your apartment building, deciding it was best to leave the car after the two of you had downed the alcoholic energy drinks. Buzzing with booze and caffeine was a different type of feeling. “Well, this is mine.” You smiled as the two of you walked up to your door.

“Sure is” Geto nodded, “Mind if I come in?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden gentlemanly persona.

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time but it was definitely the end goal.” He admitted, and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or alcohol.

“And what was your plan if I said no?” You teased.

“Well, plan B was to see if you’d at least let me come in while I waited for Satoru to come pick me up.” He admitted. He really was one step ahead.

“And if I said no to that?”

“Then I’d have one hell of a walk on my hands.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. His laugh had always been infections.

“Well, I’d hate to make you walk.” You chuckled as you unlocked your door, the two of you tumbling inside. In true Suguru fashion, he went straight to the stereo system in your room, looking to see what album you had been listening to. About a Girl filled the air of your small apartment. You chuckled softly as you joined him in your room. Of course he would play a CD he burned for you.

You took a moment to actually take him in. mesh top clinging to his arms, an Alice in Chains shirt covering up the real action. His hair was messy from the walk, half up half down, and he now sported a slight stubble he hadn’t during your relationship. He looked good. He turned to look at you, dark eyes softening as he smiled softly.

“What?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” you shrugged.

“Oh, so you wanna just keep eye fucking me? Ok, cool just making sure.” He laughed.

“And what's wrong with wanting to do that?” you laughed. He turned and smirked at you, moving to close the space.

“Why fuck me with your eyes when you could just fuck me?” He asked, a line you 're sure sounded way smoother in his head. You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yea, real smooth there Cruzan Cassanova, you-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Sugurus mouth had connected with you, the taste of pineapple alcohol and cigarettes mixing on your tongue. You melted into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. You felt your pulse quicken as the kiss heated up, the drinks of the night combining with his presence to make your head spin. He bit your lip, using the small gasp you let out as an opportunity to deepen the kiss.

God, you missed him. Your body cleared up any doubt, if there was any, in that fact with the way it immediately reacted to him. You felt his hands start to wander, moving down your spine to grab your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your body tensed as you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Look at you princess,” He pulled back to smirk, lust filling his eyes, “Already soaking wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” He never missed an opportunity to be condescending in bed, did he?

“Get fucked Suguru.” You groaned, your hips involuntary bucking into his hand as he pressed too fingers into your folds. You needed more.

“I assure you, I’m trying.” He grinned, removing his hand and making you almost scream in frustration. He kissed you before you could get a word in about how insufferable he could be. “I’m gonna take care of you Princess, don’t worry.” He assured you as he took your top off, “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been with my favorite girl. And I want to enjoy it.” he purred.

You weren’t sure how, but at some point he had gotten you on your bed and was taking off your pants. “Hey, no fair!” you panted as you realize. He paused what he was doing to look at you quizzically, trying to figure out when he had been anything other than fair.

“You’re completely dressed and I’m basically naked.” You clarified sheepishly. Suguru held back a laugh at how cute you were. He finished his task, then took off his ratty band shirt.

“Better?” He asked. You felt like you were going to burn from the inside out as you looked at him. The mesh perfectly outlining every bump and crevice of his perfect body. Greek gods wished they looked like him. You nodded.

“Much.” you said as Suguru dragged you to the edge of the bed. You felt needy and helpless under him. He dropped to his knees in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs with intent to bruise. More than once he ghosted himself right where you needed him the most, filling you with frustration. “Suguru please..” You moaned out.

“Please what Princess?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“Please Sug, I need you to touch me.” You begged.

“But I am touching you Darling.” You almost kicked him.

“Suguru Please!” You begged.

“Princess, you can’t already be fucked stupid. I’ve barely touched you, Pretty-”

“Yea, that’s the problem!” you whined. He chuckled darkly at your pain, but relented.

“Where do you want me Princess? Right here?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clothes core. Your breath hitched and you nodded frantically.

“Use your words Babygirl, you know the rules.” You took a deep breath.

“Yes, please Sir, I want you to play with my pussy.” You felt red hot saying all of those things out loud, but god the look in his eyes was fucking worth it. He was taking off your panties in an instant, marveling at the sting of slick that connected you to them until it snapped.

“Fucking Christ.” He moaned to himself, one of his hands going to grind on his hard cock. “I’ve barely fucking touched you and you’re fucking gushing.” He chuckled, his hands finally moving to where you needed him to be. The moan you let out as his fingers finally found your clit was embarrassing. “Can anyone else do this to you Doll?” you shook your head almost violently.

“No, no sir. No one but you.” You panted softly, getting lost in the bliss currently filling your bloodstream. Shit, you 're not going to last long.

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled darkly, two fingers abruptly darting into your cunt and making your entire body tense. “My slutty girl only puts out like this for me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he said, rewarding you with a third finger. You gasped at the feeling, your soaking pussy taking anything it could get and more. He curled his fingers, sending a rush of electric endorphins through your body as he graced your g-spot. You moaned out his name, your hands curling into your sheets.

“Just out of curiosity, what have you been doing for six months without me?” His eyes were dark, letting you know he wasn’t just asking what new books you’d read.

“Thought of you.” You moaned, a tight knot forming in your stomach.

“Oh?” He asked, pausing his actions. He wanted details.

“I thought about you fucking me.” Right answer, he started moving again, “I thought about how good your cock stretched me out, and how good it felt inside me. I pretended it was you fucking me whenever I used my toys, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing feels like you do Sug,” You moaned out your sloppy confessional. His thumb had found your clit and was massaging it in time with his relentless fingers. His free hand groping himself through his jeans, needed even an ounce of friction. “I’m so fucking close..”

“You’re goddamn right nothing feels like Me princess.” he groaned to distract himself, least he cum in his jeans like a fucking teenager. You felt yourself speeding off a cliff, his words only aiding in pressing the accelerator. “You think a fucking toy could make you feel even an ounce of what I make you feel? That's naive at best Darling. You’re fucking mine nothing and no one is ever going to make you feel the way that I do. Cum for me Princess.”

A few strokes later and you came hard on his fingers, pussy clenching around him in beautiful ways. Suguru didn’t know if he wanted to watch your cunt or your face, but it didn't matter really. He didn’t plan on letting up anytime soon. He finger fucked you through your high, removing his fingers only after you had semi-calmed down.

He moved over you, slipping his fingers into your mouth which you gladly cleaned off for him, always eager to show him how good you were. You pulled off with a loud pop, looking at him with doe eyes for approval. You assumed he approved, because he was very quickly freeing himself of his tripp pants and boxers with the efficiency only a mall goth could ever possess. He was in between your legs before you had even fully processed what was going on.

He leaned down to leave rough kisses on your neck, the blissful pain of the bruises forming almost distracted you from the feeling of his cock pushing into your soaking wet cum. Almost. Nothing could ever fully distract you from the euphoria of Suguru Getos cock stretching you out in ways only he could. You moaned out his name, hands flying to claw at his back through the mesh shirt.

He faltered, letting out a shaking breath as he felt your warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Fuck Y/n. I swear to whatever god there is this pussy was fucking made for me.” He said through a breathy laugh, pulling back just to push back in, stroking your g-spot beautifully and earning himself an embarrassing moan from you.

“So fucking good for me.” he groaned. Every stroke of his hips sent a new wave of electricity through your core, your body reacting to his every move and begging him for more. If Suguru Geto was a drug you were an addict. The pleasure sent your head swirling and your nerves on fire.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, “I can’t fucking believe you forgot you we’re mine.” He said, his movements suddenly becoming rougher, forcing you to yelp out his name. “You tried to leave me and then couldn’t even get yourself off Doll, it’s almost cute.” He mocked. “You’re mine do you understand? This cunt belongs to me, Do you get that?” you nodded, trying desperately to take in all his words while the coil in your stomach began to tighten again. He had never been so possessive before.

“Answer me Slut.” He demanded with a rough buck of his hips. You nodded violently.

“Yes! Yes Sir.” You groaned. You wouldn't argue even if you could have.

“Say it.” He demanded, “Say my name, say you belong to me.”

“I’m all yours Suguru, You’re and only yours. I’ll never leave again.” You said, your second climax coming on faster than you would have liked. Every stroke of his hips hit your g-spot dead on. He really did know your body better than anyone else.

“Damn right you won’t.” He groaned, his hind falling between your bodies to massage circles into your clit. Your entire body tensed with pleasure as you started to come undone again.

“Sug-”

“I know.” There was no mistaking the way your pussy fluttered around him. He knew you were close. “Cum on me, cum on cock.” You didn’t need to be asked twice. A few more strokes of his dick and you were coming undone all over it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum Princess.” He said darkly, somehow picking up his pace. He wasn;t worried about your pleasure anymore, you got yours. He wanted his. And you felt so good around him, warm and velvety. He could stay in between your legs forever and be happy. He moved your legs over his shoulders, managing to fuck you even deeper than he was before. Your overstimulated moans only adding fuel to his fire.

“You’re so pretty whenyou’re fucked out, you know that?” He said, condescension dripping from his voice. “So fucking pretty, You’re gonna look even better with my cum dripping out of your pussy, you know that?” The way you moaned and the way you clenched around him was enough to send him over the edge, filling you to the brim and somehow still finding the energy to fuck some of it back into you before collasping onto you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him inside of you and holding you close to him. You felt more thankful than ever to be on the pill as you played with his soft hair.

“I…is fucking Closer playing? Nine Inch Nails?” You asked, suppressing a laugh as you tuned into the song. Suguru lifted up his head to listen, laughing as he registered Trent Reznors distorted growl.

“Oh my god, I think it is.” He laughed, “I forgot this was on here.”

“Helluva song to hook up to.” You laughed. He nodded in agreement.

“Yea, definitely not the best for a hookup. But maybe not bad for a round two?”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguro #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #no curse au #possessive suguru #posessive sex #suguru geto smut #early 2000s au #ex suguru #suguru geto angst #suguru get hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

Text

My first book attempt ended in a depressing note - the protagonist dies, the dark horse villain whose appearance I didn't even plan succeeds in his plot and takes over, and the rest of the main characters scatter, not even knowing what happened to their friends. So I got the idea of starting a new book with the same setting and characters, but skipping 20 years into the future, and the new generation of protagonists are the offspring, nieces and children of the previous cast.

The main protagonist is a farm girl who sets out on a grand quest with no idea how dangerous it is. Her uncle, who has some idea of how dangerous it is, tags along with the attitude of "I can't stop you so the best I can do is to help you." He tells her that while he doesn't really know what to do, there is a man in the great city whom he used to know in his youth, who knows more of the ways of magic than he does, and the two of them should go to him for aid.

The protagonist has never been further from home than the village market, and hearing snippets of the Grand Dark Adventures of her uncle's youth that he has never talked about before, she imagines the Wise Man In The City as some great wizard and sage, a hardy hero who saved her uncle's life and knows the ways of the world, who will surely help her achieve her impossible goal.

Once they get there (after some misadventures), the protagonist is shocked to find that her uncle's old friend mostly seems like a completely ordinary guy, a fat middle-aged man. A father of a large family, gently trying to herd his flock of curious kids back into the house so they could talk. The protagonist and her uncle are invited in, and while she makes friends with the Wise City Man's offspring, the two older men talk in private.

And all illusions of Wise Mentors Who Know What To Do shatter when they sit down and they start talking. The other guy looks at the uncle and goes "dude come on. Twenty years and you haven't changed at all. Your get your stupid farmboy hero ass involved in some trouble way over your head and the first damn thing you do is come drop it on my lap, hoping I could fix it. No don't get me wrong, of course I'll fucking help, you saved my life more than once and I haven't forgotten that, but dude. I thought you were dead for twenty goddamn years, I'm raising six kids in here, and then you show up completely out of the blue, dropping some wildly illegal shit on my doorstep. Also since when did you start talking like an old man, you're like 38."

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

Hey Bug! I have a request for a fic just in case you run out of ideas

Eddie gets bullied by Jason and those annoying basketball jerks all th time but doesn't tell anyone. When he sees them at the Hideout before he's about to perform he has a panic attack or something. Y/N is there because she still hasn't gotten over him. :D

Then backstage Y/N comfort's him

exes back to lovers

hurt/comfort

This might be way too specific but...........

;)

K bye

Combining with these two requests!

hello i love your blog so much and you're really one of the best writers here! <3 i'm honestly a slut for the enemies to lovers trope sksksks so i was hoping you could write one for eddie? then maybe sprinkled with a lil bit of jealousy haha thank you so much and ily <333

May i plz request an exes back to lovers with eddie x y/n? Maybe he cheated or something?

Warnings: smut (18+ only minors DNI!!!), fingering, p in v, panic attacks, mentions of cheating, mentions of oral, Jason Carver is present

WC: 3.9k

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the amazing dividers and @usedtobecooler, @trashmouth-richie, and @this-was-bad-sorry for dialogue help!

Reader:

"Babe, where are you taking me?" you ask your boyfriend, snuggling up against him as he just grins and continues driving.

"You'll see," Jason answers teasingly. "I told you that we'll be doing a full 'Welcome Home' tour of Hawkins when you got back from college, and that's what we're gonna do."

Since you'd been home for the summer, he'd brought you to Benny's, Enzo's, Skull Rock, and Lover's Lake. Hawkins is a small town; there wasn't much else to do around here.

You and Jason had been together for six months after you ran into him when you came home for Thanksgiving. You'd bumped into each other at the grocery store, frantically scrambling to buy last-minute ingredients. It was hard to see him; he wasn't nice to you or your friends back in high school. But then he'd apologized, offered to take you out for coffee to show you how much he'd changed, and the rest was history.

Your stomach drops when he pulls into the Hideout parking lot. It brings back memories of watching your ex-boyfriend and his band play there. You and Eddie would fool around backstage until it was time for them to perform, and you would stand in the audience of five drunks and cheer like you were at a Metallica concert. It was a tradition, every Tuesday night.

Wait...

"What day is it?" you mutter to yourself, but Jason thinks you're asking him.

"It's Tuesday," he answers, blissfully unaware of what that means. "Why, you got plans?" he jokes.

You can just manage to shake your head, palms suddenly slick with sweat. Maybe Corroded Coffin didn't play on Tuesday nights anymore. Maybe you wouldn't have to see the man who shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Eddie:

"We're on in twenty minutes," Jeff tells him, slinging the strap of his guitar over his shoulders. "You all tuned up?"

Eddie nods. "Yup, good to go." He glances at his kohl-rimmed eyes in the mirror. Since you two had broken up, he's had to learn how to apply his own eyeliner before shows, but it never looks as good as when you used to do it.

"Uh, guys?" Gareth pokes his head in the room nervously. "I think you might wanna see this."

They make their way to the side of the stage, peering out as inconspicuously as they can. Gareth points out to where Jason is standing at the bar with his tanned arm around some girl.

No...not just some girl, Eddie realizes. It's you.

"What the fuck?" he snarls, heart catching in his throat. "What's she doing with him?" He winces as Jason hands you a watered-down beer and kisses you, making you giggle.

Jeff claps a hand on his friend's back. "I'm sorry, dude," he says gently. "You gonna be okay?"

But Eddie doesn't hear him; doesn't hear anything besides a pounding in his ears. He feels like he's standing outside of his own body. His bandmates keep calling his name to no response.

She's with Jason now. She's done with me and moved onto the prick who made my life miserable for all of high school. I lost her and I'll never get her back. It's over it's over it's over...

"Eddie?" Gareth shakes him, too aware of the way his friend's chest is expanding and contracting at a rapid rate. This isn't the first time Eddie's had a panic attack, but it's the first time you haven't been there to calm him down. "What do we do?" he asks Jeff.

"I-I don't know!" Jeff cries out. "What did Y/N used to do?" He glances over in your direction. "Should I...would she even want to help after...?"

Gareth shrugs. "It's worth a shot!" he surmises, nudging Eddie again. "He's gonna hyperventilate." Tears involuntarily spill down Eddie's cheeks as he murmurs the same phrase again and again:

It's over it's over it's over...

Reader:

You're waiting for Jason to come back with a plate of fries, possibly the greasiest offering in all of Hawkins, when you feel a frantic tapping on your back. Your smile fades when you see Gareth in front of you, panting like he's just run a marathon.

"What do you want?" you hiss, remembering his role in everything that went down last year.

"Look," he starts, "I know you hate me, and you hate Eddie more, but he's having a panic attack backstage and we can't calm him down. I'm worried that he's gonna pass out. Please," he begs, not even bothering to finish his request. You know exactly what he's asking.

There's a knot in your stomach, twisting with your options. You could ditch Jason and help out the guy who cheated on you at your own graduation party, or you can let Eddie suffer and enjoy a night out with your boyfriend. You don't want to see Eddie; the words fuck off are on the tip of your tongue, but you can't help the gnawing feeling pulsing through your conscience.

"Fine," you mutter, and Gareth grabs your wrist and pulls you backstage. Jeff's gotten Eddie to sit on the torn leather sofa, but the man is still breathing too heavily for your liking. His eyes are glazed over, like he's not actually present. It's a sight you've seen before.

"Eddie, it's me," you say softly, trying to keep the resentment out of your voice. "We're backstage at the Hideout, sitting on the couch. Jeff and Gareth are here, too. Ground yourself here." Against your better judgment, you slip your hand under his trembling one. "Squeeze my hand when you're ready." About thirty seconds pass before you feel his fingers grip yours.

"Okay, we're gonna do your exercise together," you tell him. "Five things you see; I'll start." You pick the first thing your eyes land on. "A chair."

Eddie pauses before he gives his answer, voice barely audible. "Th-the coaster," he says finally, referring to the sticky Bud Light coaster on the table.

"Good," you offer a small smile. "I see...Sweetheart," you announce, referring to his guitar.

"Gareth and Jeff." Eddie replies just a bit faster this time, allowing himself back into reality.

"That was two, you overachiever!" you tease. You walk him through the remainder of the exercise: four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. By the time you're done, his breathing has slowed considerably and he's stopped crying.

You turn to his friends, both visibly relieved that the situation has been diffused. "I don't think he should perform tonight, guys," you tell them. "He needs to go home and rest. The adrenaline of being on stage could trigger another one." They nod knowingly, and you stand up to leave.

"Where're y'going?" Eddie mumbles, reaching out for your hand. "Can you stay for a little bit?"

"I, um, have to get back to my date," you tell him, purposely omitting Jason's name. "You'll be okay. Just take care of yourself tonight." You rub his back quickly, almost out of habit. "Gotta go," you add quickly before dashing back out to the bar.

Part of you feels guilty for running out of there, but why should you? You weren't the one who hooked up with Ashley Calloway at the party; that was Eddie. You were too busy trying to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves; Eddie sure was when you found the two of them in the guest bathroom, pants around his ankles and Ashley on her knees in front of him. They were both beyond drunk; you didn't know who initiated, but you really didn't care.

No, you didn't owe Eddie anything. Helping him through his panic attack was nicer than anything he deserved.

"Where'd ya go?" Jason asks, concerned. He pulls you in for a kiss, and it seems more possessive than usual.

"Ladies' room," you lie easily. "Hope you didn't eat all the fries without me!"

He laughs. "Don't worry, I saved a few for my girl." He tugs you closer, eyes scoping out the rest of the bar. "Forgot how grimy this place is," he mutters. "Wanna get out of here after we finish these?" he asks, gesturing towards the plate on the counter.

You nod. "That would be great."

Eddie:

Eddie's sitting in the back of his van; Jeff is driving and Gareth is plunked down in the passenger seat.

"Sorry, guys," he apologizes for what seems like the millionth time. "I don't know what happened back there."

Gareth exhales slowly. "We're just glad you're okay," he says truthfully, "but, dude, you can't be getting this upset whenever you see Y/N with someone else."

"Yeah, I know," Eddie agrees. "But Jason Carver? What does she even see in him?" He groans and leans back in his seat.

Jeff thinks for a moment. "Have you two actually...talked since the party?" he asks. "I know there was a lot of yelling and screaming, but did you ever have a real conversation?"

"Nope." Eddie replies. "She wanted nothing to do with me, and I don't blame her. I fucked up royally." No one can argue with that.

"Maybe you should try that," Jeff suggests. "Like, listen to her, and don't give some shitty excuse for what you did."

Eddie considers this. "What if she doesn't forgive me? What if she still hates me after?" he ponders meekly. "Then what?"

"Then at least you tried," Gareth reasons. "Is it more important that she forgives you, or that she just knows how important she was to you?"

Reader:

The drive home from the Hideout should be passed by peppering kisses to Jason's clean-shaven face while he drives and lacing your fingers into his when he rests his hand on the gearshift. Instead, you're in your own world; a world where you can't stop thinking about Eddie Munson.

It was so stupid, especially after how badly he'd hurt you. You'd heard the unmistakeable sounds of his panting moans coming from the bathroom, and when Jeff and Gareth tried to stop you from investigating, you knew something was amiss. You'd shouted at him until your throat was raw, and then you shouted some more at his friends for protecting the cheating bastard. It was the last time you'd spoken to any of them until tonight.

You look over at your boyfriend, so sweet and wonderful, and you ache to love him fully, to commit to him with your whole being. But you just can't. Because your heart still belongs to the metalhead who broke it.

"Jason," you blurt out before you can stop yourself, "I have to tell you something." And you tell him the truth of where you disappeared to that night, watching his expression fall with each word.

When you finish, he laughs incredulously. "You skipped out on our date to go comfort The Freak?" he spits, and you see the old Jason, the one he insisted no longer existed, ooze through his nice-guy persona. "Seriously? After everything he did to you."

"It's not like anything happened!" you protest. "Besides, you were a total douchebag in high school, and I forgave you."

Jason pauses. "And what if something had happened?" he questions, voice thick with venom and insecurity. "What if he had tried to kiss you or something? Would you have let him?"

You stumble on your response, and that's enough of an answer for him. "Nice. Real nice," he sneers. "Do you even love me?"

"I wish I did," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "Jason, I'm so sorry."

He sighs, slamming a hand on the steering wheel. "Forget it. I knew I shouldn't have gotten involved. All of you weirdos in that satanic cult Munson ran were bad news." He slams on the breaks as he pulls into your driveway. "Look at that. There's Freak Charming now." Sure enough, Eddie is sitting on your stoop, smoking a cigarette in the crisp summer evening air.

"I swear, I didn't--" but Jason just waves you off.

"We're done. Do whatever--or whoever--you want, Y/N," he says tersely, and you hop out of his car wordlessly, watching as he speeds away.

You turn your attention to Eddie, who is making his way towards you.

"What are you doing here?"

Eddie:

Well, isn't that a loaded question.

Eddie runs his fingers through his curly hair. "I, um, came here to listen to you," he stammers, avoiding your gaze.

"Listen to me? What do you want me to say?" The thought is almost absurd; him showing up to your house, expecting you to carry a conversation.

"Anything," he takes a drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We never got to talk after the party. I didn't really apologize, and I didn't get to hear you out."

You laugh harshly. "I think I got my point across when I called you a cheating piece of shit and our relationship a waste of my time. Why, did I miss something?"

"No, I think that about covers it," Eddie says with a frown.

"Why did you do it?" you blurt out. "Was I not enough? Or too much? What did I do wrong?" Your voice wavers, a sob catching in your throat.

"Oh my God, no," Eddie replies, slack-jawed. "No, it was nothing like that. It was my fault, not yours." He sighs, looking upwards to will his own tears away. "I was drunk and stupid and scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah," he says, "scared that you'd realize that I wasn't enough; that you'd want someone who's getting a college degree like you are, who isn't back in Hawkins working at a power plant and playing in a band with a bunch of high schoolers."

You kick the ground lightly, dust pluming around your sneakered foot. "I was gonna ask you to get an apartment in Evanston with me," you admit. "I would be at Northwestern and you could easily find work there. Plus, it's only about half an hour from Chicago." Your heart pangs at the thought of what might have been.

"Y-you were?" Eddie's eyes widen in shock. "Fuck, man!" He stubs out his cigarette angrily. "Can't believe I went and fucked it all up like that." Before he realizes what he's doing, he slams a fist into a nearby tree, wincing as the pain shoots up his arm.

"Of course I was!" you shout. "I thought you were the love of my life, Eddie. I thought we'd move in together, get married someday, have our own family." You let the tears fall, unable to hold yourself together. "And then you decided that getting blown by some random cheerleader was more important than all of that."

He's silent for awhile, and it's not until you hear him sniffling that he realizes he's crying.

"You can leave now," you tell him quietly. "There's nothing left to say."

He nods. "I'm so, so sorry," he sobs. "I hurt you. You didn't deserve that; you didn't deserve to suffer because I was insecure. I'd...I'd do anything to get you back."

"I don't think that's a good idea," you answer him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I know you're with Carver now--"

"We broke up," you see his eyebrows shoot up, and you elaborate, "just now. He didn't like that I was helping you tonight."

"Oh," Eddie says simply, trying to bite back a smile at the news that you're single. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends what it is."

"Why did you help me? You could've just told the guys to deal with it themselves, you know." He tries to resist the urge to light up another cigarette and fails, feeling the nicotine calm his nerves.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Because as much as I hate you--and I do hate you, very much--I wasn't about to let you faint over some stage fright."

Eddie chews on his lower lip. "Wasn't stage fright."

"What?"

"It wasn't stage fright," he repeats. "I had a panic attack because I saw you with Carver--not that it was your fault," he hastily adds, "it just fuckin' killed me to know that you were over me. That we were over. Because I-I never stopped loving you."

Reader:

You let the confession sink in: Eddie never stopped loving you. Or so he says, but the image of him with Ashley never fades.

"Did you still love me at the party?" you sneer. "Did you still love me with her mouth around your dick?"

"Of course I did!" he retorts, "I just...look, there's no excuse for what I did. I got it in my head that you'd leave me and I...I acted vindictively. But you've got to believe me--I've regretted it every day since."

You sit on the steps, feeling like you're about to fall over from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you know what the worst part is?" you hiss. "Earlier, when you said you wanted me back, I actually considered it. I hate myself for it, but I considered it."

"Do you...still love me?" he asks quietly.

"I do," you confess. "I don't want to, but I do. I love you and despise you at the same time, if that makes any sense."

"What...what can I do to earn your trust back, Y/N?" he murmurs. "I'll do it; whatever you ask, I'll do it. I don't want to mess this up again. I don't want to risk losing your love for good." He looks up at you, tears shining in his big brown eyes. "Please, baby."

"Eddie, I don't know--" you start, but he interrupts you.

"Can I just do one thing?" No sooner do you nod your head do his lips come crashing against yours, his hands on either side of your face. You arch into him, pressing up on your toes.

"Was that okay?" he whispers against you, brushing away your tears with his thumb. "God, baby, it eats me up inside to know that I'm the reason you're crying. I never wanted to be that."

"I know," you tell him, falling into his warm embrace. "Want you to make me feel happy again. Like you used to."

He looks taken aback at your proposition. "Y'sure? We can just do this," he reassures you as he pulls you in for another deep kiss.

"'M sure." You gasp as he lifts you, placing one hand under each of your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist as he kisses down your arms, sending a tingling sensation through your body. "Show me how much you love me."

Eddie swings open your front door, pushing you up against the living room wall so he can put his hands all over you. "Are your parents--"

"They're out," you tell him. "We have the place to ourselves."

"Fuck," he growls. "Bedroom?"

"Mhm."

Eddie stumbles into your room, holding onto you as though he's afraid that you'll disappear if he lets you go. He gently lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you, parting your lips with his tongue.

"You're so beautiful," he muses. "You are the most perfect woman I've ever seen. These perfect eyes...perfect nose...perfect mouth...perfect ears..." He punctuates each statement with a kiss, naming every body part he can think of.

"My turn," you say, sitting up slightly. He furrows his brows, puzzled, until you start peeling off his shirt and kissing down his torso. He shivers as you reach for his belt buckle, clasping his hand over yours.

"We don't have to rush this," he stammers. "I don't want you to regret anything."

"Do you not want to?" you ask. It's not an accusation, just concern.

"I do. I definitely do," Eddie clarifies. "I just want to do this right, y'know? Don't want this to be a one-time thing."

"Eddie?"

"Mm?"

"Stop talking."

He lets out a small chuckle. "Will do, my love." Pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead, he lifts your shirt above your head and rubs his thumbs over the lace of your bra. Your nipples pebble under his touch.

"Eddie." His name drips with need from your lips. "Keep touching me." He unclasps your bra, inhaling sharply as it falls to the bed, revealing your pert breasts.

"S'perfect," he coos, taking one into his mouth. He presses his groin against your thigh, rutting against you softly. A moan slips from you as feel him growing harder.

"Wan' touch you," you whimper, nudging again at his belt. "Please."

"Okay, baby," he indulges, groaning as you take him out of his boxers, using his precum to help your hand glide along his length. "I missed your touch." He trains his focus on your own jean shorts, fighting his feral urge to rip them off of you, instead opting to leave kisses across your hips and thighs as he pulls them down gently. Pressing his forefinger against your throbbing clit, he smiles when he feels you soaking through your panties.

"Did you miss that, too?" you tease, but he's completely serious in his reply:

"I missed everything about you."

Your gaze meets his, and you immediately take note of his misty eyes. You melt at his words, at how genuine he is; the raw vulnerability making him even more beautiful. He leans in for another kiss, and his tears fall against your cheeks.

"I love you I love you I love you," he whispers into your ear, tugging down your panties and sliding one thick finger inside you, pumping it against your pulpy walls. "I'll never lose you again, never never never..."

"I know," you tell him, and you mean it. You cry out with pleasure as he inserts another digit, bucking your hips into him. "I love you, too."

"Are you...can I...?" he glances down at his erect length, slick with his own precum.

"Please," you beg. He slowly enters you, filling you up perfectly. His movements still for a moment as the two of you feel the power of your connection. He gives small thrusts, holding you by the small of your back as he pulls himself out and pushes back in rhythmically. You can't remember the last time anyone's held you this close.

He grows harder inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over. His choked panting tells you that he's close, but so are you.

"Can we finish together?" you manage, and he nods. "I'm still on the pill...you can cum inside me, baby."

"Now?"

"Mhm," you cry out as he pumps faster. "Eddie--fuck--right there, I'm cumming..." You clench around him as your orgasm overtakes you, and you feel his thick, hot ropes fill you. He stays there for a beat, kissing you with his swollen lips before taking himself out and flopping next to you on your bed.

"Y/N?" he asks meekly. "Look at me, love."

You shift to your side so your eyes are trained on his.

"You're my everything. Always have been, always will be." He caresses your cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Will you take me back? I'll never..."

"I know," you kiss his nose as he grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest. "I love you, Eddie."

"I love you more," he play argues with a grin.

"Impossible."

"Nope," he tickles you gently until you swat at him. "And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it."

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