#I didn’t edit this it’s just something I needed to get off of my chest bc I just want to comfort him and reassure him that we can be happy
Text
—everything is orange. [ iv ]
pairing: lando norris x kpop idol! reader
summary: a racecar driver who needed a fake girlfriend to dispel rumors and a kpop idol who needed publicity for her song. somewhere in between orange cars and orange sunsets, stands something they're afraid of naming.
note: omg im so sorry for not being online lately. i got a writing part time job now so... i may not be as active as before. hope yall are having a great day! not edited. not beta read.
masterlist.
Everything inside your studio is gray. The walls, the couch, the floor, the instruments. It's the kind of room that will make a sad beige mom over the moon.
But when you open the door and the sight of one Lando Norris greets you, looking devilishly handsome in his dark blue button up shirt and black pants and Nike sneakers with his curls concealed underneath his dark blue bucket hat, the studio suddenly doesn't feel as gray as it usually is.
“Lando?” Your brows rise towards your hairline. Truthfully, he’s one of the last people you expected to see inside HAN Ent’s building, much less outside your studio.
“Hi,” he smiles charmingly at the shock in your voice, showing all teeth and smile lines. “Do you mind if I come in?”
You stammer, still not over your shock, “S-Sure.”
You step aside to grant him space and allow him to enter your magic shop. Lando’s eyes curiously roam around the studio and you close the door behind him, nudging the houseplant further to the wall using your foot to avoid getting tripped on it in the future.
“Take a seat. Please,” you invite, gesturing towards the couch. Lando takes the invitation and sits down. He looks too big on the couch, you note. He has long legs and an athletic build. Perhaps, it’s time to buy a bigger one.
“Nice place,” he compliments.
You want to snort out loud but refrain yourself from doing so.
Lando is saying things out of politeness.
Your studio is shit.
You know that.
It used to be a stock room that was converted into a studio when Yoon PD-nim offered you that deal, that's why the room is graciously small. They soundproofed the walls, painted everything gray, shoved in a few pieces of recording equipment and called it a day.
It's still quite nice of Lando to compliment the place though. You might hate this place but this is your wizard’s tower, your witch’s hut, your magic shop, and you feel pride swell in your chest when someone thinks your little corner is cool, even if you think he’s lying.
“Thanks,” you say sincerely. “How did you know I was…”
“I asked Jinnie,” he says simply.
“Ah,” your tone falls flat.
A moment's pause.
“So this is where you’ve been working?”
You nod. Suddenly, you feel conscious.
Your studio isn't really in the best state right now. When you work in a creative fever, you tend to make a mess. Being messy enhances your creativity. The sprawled papers with lyrics, the empty styro cups of coffee lying around, numerous pens and pencils (you don't even know why you feel the need to bring a lot of them) and rubber erasers, and your snacks. There's a mountain of crumpled paper in your trash can.
“Sorry, the place isn't really….” you trail off, making vague gestures with your hand. “I didn't know you were coming.”
“It's okay,” he chuckles. “I called, you know. And texted. You didn’t return any of it.”
“Oh, my phone’s charging,” you say, beginning to feel bad that you accidentally ignored him. “And my notifs are silent.”
“That explains it.”
“Shouldn't you be resting?” you asked. “You have a flight tomorrow.”
It's currently the 19th. Lando is set to leave for Japan on the 20th. His team wants him in Suzuka by September 20 and not later than that. They already had a field day when Lando announced that he's flying with you. At first, he wanted it to be just you and him. His team wouldn't let him because he can be a PR nightmare if given enough freedom so they let his manager, Kyla, tag along.
You’ve mistaken Kyla as a member of the PR team. Turns out she’s his manager.
“Is it a sin to want to spend a few hours with my girlfriend before I go?” he flutters his eyes innocently. You snorted.
“Fake but okay.”
“I’m being sincere here, girlfriend,” he pushes his lips into a pout. “Did you eat already?”
“No,” you answer.
“Should we grab something together?”
“Should we?” you humor his suggestion. It's been a few hours since you’ve eaten. You’ve skipped both breakfast and lunch.
“I think I can call a restaurant and make a reservation.”
“It's near midnight,” you point out, glancing down at the Rolex decorating his wrist. Isn't he aware of how late it is?
“So?”
“Restaurants are closed by now,” you state.
Lando shrugs.
“I can make the effort of finding those seafood pasta you like.”
Your brows furrow.
“What do you mean like? I never said I like those.”
“But I thought…” Lando blinks. “I’ve read it somewhere…”
“Huh?”
“You're from Jeju, right? You grew up eating seafood so you like seafood and you once said you have a palate for Italian food. I tried…liking the pasta with seafood. I hated it but I ate it anyway.”
Your jaw hangs open at the revelation.
This is single-handedly the sweetest thing someone has ever done to you.
You don't know whether to be touched about the sincerity or to cry because of his idiocy. You can definitely do both but you refuse to do both. You have an image to maintain.
“Didn't I tell you that the company manipulated my public information?” you ask incredulously. “Yes, I was from Jeju but I didn’t eat seafood much. I have a mild allergy—”
“In seafood?” you see his eyes widen into saucers. Oops, you shouldn't have said that. “Wait, you had an allergy attack, didn't you? On those lunch dates we had? Why didn't you tell me so early on?”
“I thought you liked it!” your voice raises slightly, panicked. You're caught. He isn't supposed to know about this.
“I didn't?! I loathe seafood but I ate a few bites because I thought you liked it!”
You blink at him. That is the sweetest while simultaneously the most stupid thing someone has ever done for you. You drag a hand across your face, a groan escaping your mouth and yet you’re smiling. You shake your head at him.
Points for Lando Norris for making you capable of feeling frustrated and another feeling you cannot name.
“We’re idiots.”
There is a stretch of silence before Lando speaks up.
“What do you want to eat? And please tell me the real one.”
You began listing the first three things that appeared inside your brain, “I like…. ramyeon, natto, and tteokbokki.”
You have a palate for convenience store food. Food that you can find in busy night markets. Food that is sold by street vendors. The kind of food that tastes like absolute shit if cold but tastes like home if microwaved into the right amount of temperature. If you venture in your imagination hard enough, you can taste your mother’s cooking after a few bites. But you don't tell Lando that.
“We can eat that.”
You raise a brow.
“The ramen, the chicken, and the tteokdokdok.”
“Tteokbokki,” you correct him gently.
“Tteoktokki,” he repeats.
“Tteok.”
“Tteok.”
“Bokki.”
“Bokki.”
“Tteokbokki.”
“Tteokdokki.”
You shake your head, “Tteok-Bo-Kki.”
“Tteok-Bo-Kki.”
You snap your fingers, nodding in approval, “Better.”
“I literally said the same thing.”
“You didn't.”
“Where will we eat this tteokbokki?” He says the tteokbokki slowly, careful with his pronunciation.
“There are night markets nearby,” you tell him. “It’s crowded though. I know a good convenience store that’s a good drive away. It’s usually empty. Do you go to convenience stores?”
You suddenly feel stupid for asking.
Do multi-millionaires like Lando Norris go to convenience stores? It’ll make much more sense if he books restaurants or employs a private chef to cook for him at home. Do they even have a palate for instant food? What do rich people snack on? You don't know. You're not rich. Even after becoming famous, you’re still not rich enough to live the life of luxury.
This just highlights the difference of the worlds you and Lando live in.
“I do. Just not frequently,” he shrugs. “We can go to the convenience store if you want. I don't mind.”
“No, it’s fine. We can eat anywhere you want. Jinnie might have a few hotel restaurants in mind.”
“But do you want to eat in hotel restaurants?”
His question makes you pause and Lando immediately takes your hesitation as a no.
“We can eat anything you want to eat. This is your place anyway. Show me around.”
You bite your lower lip as you contemplate. Should you or should you not? That is the question.
When your eyes drag themselves back to Lando’s face, you see that he’s already looking at you intently as he awaits your answer patiently. You want to shrink back at the intensity of his gaze.
“Well then, do you want to go on a convenience store date with me, boyfriend?”
Despite the hesitation he’s displayed earlier, Lando grins at your offer.
You take Lando to your favorite place in all of South Korea. Google Maps says it's a three hour drive away. You arrive there in two hours and a half.
Maybe it's a sign to change careers.
You used your Jeep Wrangler. Lando offered to drive but you shook your head and hopped on the driver’s seat, him taking the passenger seat.
You won't allow anyone to drive your car. It's a rule of yours.
The last time you allowed someone to drive your car, your Hyundai jumped over a sewage canal. Lando might be a professional race car driver and that alone spoke multitudes of his driving skills, but you're so traumatized with the incident with your Hyundai that you physically can't allow anyone, professional driver or not, to handle the steering wheel of any other cars you own.
Cars are expensive. You can't buy another car. You’ll bawl when you see the money departing your bank account.
You palm the steering-wheel with your right hand. Your left hand lays flat on the back of the passenger seat, behind Lando’s head. Your upper body is rotated towards the back, full focus activated as you reverse the car in expert ease. Lando is observing you, you can tell. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your side profile.
“You okay?” You ask Lando. The man has gone uncharacteristically silent when you’ve started reversing the car. You hear Lando let out a breath. Almost shakily. You cannot tell for sure.
“Yeah,” his voice breaks like a boy undergoing puberty and you have to thin your lips into a line to prevent yourself from laughing. “Nice parking skills.”
“Thanks,” you say nonchalantly. “You sure you're okay though?”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he rubs his throat. “I think the seatbelt’s a little too tight.”
Once the car’s perfectly parked, you kill the engine and exit the car. Lando follows suit.
“I don't know why you have to drive for almost three hours just to visit this place,” Lando gestures to the surroundings. “There's nothing here.”
“Exactly,” you say. “Come on, boyfriend.”
You pat his shoulder and lead the way. A bell chimes loudly as you push the door open. You step inside, the British racer only a few steps behind you. You tug down your mask.
“What's this place?” Lando questions.
“24-hour convenience store,” you answer. “But no staff.”
“No staff?” he asks. “So self service?”
“Ah yes, that’s the word. Self service,” You say. “Quite nice, right? We have complete privacy and good food. Two best things in the world.”
“Careful. Your introvert is showing.”
You snort, “First time coming to a place like this?”
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “No staff? Does nobody attempt to steal things?”
You shrug, “Probably not. Ramen is not worth going to jail for.”
“This shop will make a million dollar loss in an hour if it's in another country,” Lando says, his nose wrinkling. “Like in the UK or US or something.”
You beckon Lando to follow you through the aisles, “This way.”
“You even memorize the places of things,” he comments. “You come here often?”
You hum a yes. You stop in front of the freezer and open it, pulling out two plastic cups.
Lando’s forehead creases, “Just ice?”
“This is an ice cup,” you explain.
“Are we going to wait for the ice to melt before drinking it or….”
You stare at him incredulously before promptly bursting out in laughter.
“What's funny?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Nothing, sorry,” you clear your throat. You don't know why you find that funny. Your humor is broken. “They sell pouches of juice or coffee and you pour it into the cup.”
Lando’s head tilts. He looks like a confused baby owl.
“Here, I’ll show you,” you walk up to a nearby shelf and grab a Kuromi pouch. It's peach-flavored. “This. You pour it here.”
You gesture to the ice cup. Lando’s mouth forms a circle in realization.
“Cool.”
“There are a lot of flavors,” you add, gesturing to the shelf. “Peach, apple, mango, strawberry, orange…”
You read out the flavors for Lando because you know he can't read Hangul. Lando wordlessly picks a grapefruit-flavored pouch. You nod.
“Good choice. Oh wait, we forgot to get a basket. Can you?”
Lando nods and leaves. When he comes back, now with a yellow basket, the two of you continue to browse down the entire store. You explain each of the food. He said no to most of them. Lando is a picky eater, you learn.
The two of you fill the basket near to the brim. You pay for each item, even though Lando insisted that he do it, and you occupy the table that faces that floor-to-ceiling glass window, overlooking the darkness of the night outside.
“Here,” you hand him a plastic fork. Lando accepts it, his brows furrowed. “You were struggling with the chopsticks.”
A shy smile makes its way to his face, “Sorry.”
You wave your hand as if to say it's no problem and plop down on the chair beside him. Lando digs in with his Buldak Samyang carbonara while you stir your Yoppoki Tteokbokki with yours before taking your first bite. You immediately let out a moan of pleasure.
“Is it delicious?” he asked.
“Very.”
You eat until your cheeks fill, chewing slowly.
“Oh wait, you should post something.”
“Now?”
“You took pictures of me earlier, right?” you know he did. He tried to be slick about it but you’d know if someone is taking a picture of you. “Put it on your story.”
“And delete it?”
“No. The world already knows we're dating anyway. Well, fake dating.”
Lando pulls out his phone and shows you the pictures in his gallery. There are aare a total of four pictures. Three are blurry. The other one is blocked by his finger.
“That one is good.”
“What do you mean good? It's blurry.”
“Blurry is an aesthetic.”
Lando shakes his head but opens his Instagram and begins to edit the photo you’ve chosen, “Help me with the caption?”
“I’m not good with them.”
“Me neither.”
“Your first caption was pretty good.”
“You think so?” he sounds hopeful.
You shrug your shoulders.
“Just say something like ‘her’ then put a period.”
That's the limit of your creative powers for the day.
Lando nods and begins typing. He’s typing quite long for a word with three letters and a single punctuation mark. He shows you the caption.
Your brows furrow.
He laughs, “I’m funny.”
“You’re really not,” you shake your head. “Put it in your drafts.”
“So I’m not posting it now?”
“You post it after we leave the place,” you say. “So we’ll be gone by the time the fans see it and decide they’ll come here.”
“That's very smart.”
“That's not being smart. That’s just common sense,” you state flatly.
“You know, I always thought you'd be a cold person.”
You raise a brow, not entirely sure if you're understanding him correctly. Cold is an adjective. It's used to describe temperature. You're uncertain if it can be applied to use as an adjective to describe a person.
Lando must have sensed your confusion that he adds, “Ice queen.”
Oh.
Yeah.
Okay. You understand it now.
“You used to look so cold and cool,” Lando says. “Ice queen. But also an IDGAF attitude. Very intimidating.”
You have no idea what IDGAF means but you nod your head and act like you understand him anyway. You make a mental note to search it up on the internet later.
“But you’re not.”
“I’m not,” you echo.
“You’re actually pretty sweet,” he adds.
“I’m trying to be kind.”
“You don't have to try. You already are.”
“The companies make us act sometimes.”
“What?”
“Like, before debut,” you begin. “There are companies that assign certain images to their idols. They give them parts to play like directors do to actors in movies. Like, oh, you look like this kind of person so you have to act like this kind of person. They take a look at your visuals and decide what role you’ll have. They took one look at my face and told me that I have to be a strict and serious person who is scary and cold and unbothered. I didn't want to do it because I tend to smile really easily before and I just wanted to have a lot of friends, you know?”
You shrug your shoulders.
“When you’re intimidating, you tend to not have a lot of them. Despite that, I followed the role. Many praised me for it and others just….well, they didn't like it. The company was happy, though. They told me I was good at acting. But it's just…sad that the person I am on the screen is not real.”
“Yeah, that's honestly sad. I can't imagine doing that for my team. I’ll suck at it. Imagine me cold and serious,” Lando makes a serious face but he ends up doing a The Rock Smoulder. You have to stop yourself from laughing out loud by thinning your lips and twisting it.
“You're doing it, though. For the team. This whole fake dating thing,” you gesture to yourselves.
Lando mutters something under his breath while stroking his chin. You don't catch it.
“Hm?”
“Nothing. I think your eyes are pretty.”
He's changing the subject. He does it so swiftly, too.
“I know, I thank my mother every day for it,” you joke and Lando chuckles softly. “But don't be jealous, you have pretty eyes yourself.”
He turns into a lovely shade of pink. You can see it. You don't speak of it.
“It changes colors sometimes,” you continue, pointing at your eyes. “Like, it’s kind of gray in the dark. But if the sun shines on it, it has three colors.”
“You stare at my eyes a lot, do you?”
“Well, if a certain thing is pretty, you can't help but stare, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess that's why I stare at you a lot, too.”
You laugh, the sound airy, shaking your head. What a flirt. The cute kind.
“I’m quite the head turner, aren't I?”
“You are,” he agrees seriously.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smirks, confident.
“Careful, you might fall for me, fake girlfriend,” he says cheekily. You have the desire to shatter his ego so you did.
“You're handsome but you're not my type.”
His smirk falters. You give a chortle.
“What's your type then?” he asks, leaning slightly forward. His eyes reflect anticipation.
You fall into a momentary thoughtful silence, “For starters, attractive men who can drive very fast cars. With a racing license this time. Not like me.”
Lando smiles at your light attempt at a joke. Good to know that he finds the dark humor surrounding your career-ending scandal funny.
“I am an attractive man,” he gestures to his face. “With a priceless face and I drive a very fast car. Formula one or sports cars. Oh and would you look at that? I have a racing license and a regular driving license.”
“You are an attractive man,” you agree. “But again, not my type.”
Lando dramatically puts his hand against his chest, right above where his heart lies and acts like you just shot him dead on the spot.
“Hmm, what else? Ah, plays golf,” you list another trait of your ideal man.
“I play golf,” he crosses his arms, leans back against the back of his seat, and lifts his hips a little as he adjusts his sitting position on the chair, manspreading a little. This is one of the subtle things men do that women cannot help but find attractive. You’re also a woman. Of course, you find that attractive.
You roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. Lando laughs at you.
“A few years older than me.”
When Lando opens his mouth, you cut him off, holding up a finger, “I’m older than you.”
By months only but still.
“In the standards of your fake birthday, I am older than you.”
You huff, shaking your head. He is right, to some degree. The world thinks he is older than you because HAN Entertainment decided to lie about your birthday.
“Looks good in red.”
“You know, orange is a mixture of red and yellow. Technically, it's still red. So I look good in red. One plus one equals two. I am connecting shit.”
He raises two index fingers in the air and connects them together to put further emphasis on the words he imparted in a sage-like manner.
“You're not connecting anything.”
“Hell yeah, I am. I am so smart, I should just be McLaren’s chief strategist. Maybe then I can finally get my first win.”
You cannot help but raise an amused brow.
“Fine, if you're so smart Mr. Strategist, what's plan A to your victory?”
His answer comes immediately, no hesitation and he utters it with so much confidence in his chest: “Sneak into Red Bull and steal their car.”
You abruptly burst out laughing, the sound filling up the entire convenience store. You cannot hold it in anymore. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself down.
You don't laugh pretty. You're very much aware of that. You sound like a dolphin when you do. But Lando is so funny that you forget to feel conscious of the weird sound that leaves your mouth for a whole five seconds before you remember to compose yourself and stop.
“You don't have to cover your mouth when you laugh, you know?” he says. “Or try to stop yourself from laughing. Just laugh if you want.”
You give him a look. Why is he turning serious all of a sudden?
“Wait, red?” Lando does a double take once you’ve composed yourself. “Don’t tell me your ideal type is….”
His forehead creases. You nod.
He says, “Carlos?!” the same time you say, “It’s Kim Mingyu.” How did he even come to that conclusion?
Oh wait. Red. Older than you. Drives fast cars. Racing license. Makes sense.
You blink at each other.
“Who the hell is Kim Mingyu?”
“You don't know Kim Mingyu?” you pull out your phone, open Google Photos, and search for the folder named: 민규❤️❤️❤️. The folder contains 7659 photos of Kim Mingyu.
“Fake boyfriend, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Kim Mingyu,” you show your favorite Mingyu photo.
The one where he’s wearing a black fitted shirt, his cheek against the back of his hand, and the veins in his arms bulging. He’s serving major boyfriend vibes.
Lando rolls his eyes.
“He doesn’t look that good.”
“No, Lando, you are not seeing it,” you hold the phone closer to his face.
“I am seeing it and I am saying he’s not good looking.”
“Lies.”
“I'm not lying.”
“It's Kim Mingyu.”
“And?”
You pull a face, retracting your phone. “Come on, he’s quite good looking. And tall. Very tall.”
You once have to stand beside him in an ending ceremony in Inkigayo. You barely even come up to his chest.
“I’m tall.”
“You’re shorter than him.”
“You're killing me here.”
You chuckle. You pat his shoulder in faux sympathy.
“There, there. That's okay. You're my boyfriend anyway. Don't be jealous.”
“Damn right, I am.”
You snort.
“But you have to stan Seventeen though. After your race in Suzuka, we’ll try to binge GoSe.”
When you’re too full to finish the rest of your tteokbokki, you drag Lando outside the convenience store.
“Sand?” he questions.
“Sand,” you state.
“There's sand in my shoes,” Lando complains.
“Take it off and like,” you make the motion of flipping your shoes upside down to remove the sand inside. He does as you’ve told him but he seems to be not fully satisfied with it. There is still sand inside his shoe.
“This won't do,” he says. “I should have brought flip flops.”
“Let's go barefoot,” you kick off your shoes and neatly place them on the foot of a nearby coconut tree. You motion for Lando to do the same, but you’re met with hesitance.
“What if someone steals them?”
It's a valid concern to have, you suppose. You look around you. Darkness is all that can be perceived.
“Who’d steal them? Cheonyeogwisin?”
“I don't even know what that is.”
“Just leave the shoes here, Lando.”
The sand feels good underneath your feet. A bit ticklish. A little too familiar. You turn on the flashlight of your phone and jog up to the shore.
“Wait for me!” you hear Lando scream from behind you.
“Palli!” you yell back, voice almost drowning in the wind.
“I am palli-ing!”
You roll your pants up to your knees and soak your feet in the cold waves, shivering. You turn around just as Lando body slams you and the two of you fall into the ice-cold waves. Your jaw comes slack, eyes wide. The two of you are now drenched from head to toe.
Lando bashfully smiles, “Sorry.”
“Lando!” you splash him in his face.
Lively shrieks fill the silent night sky. The stars twinkle with mirth at the two of you, the line between fake and real blurring.
Lando flies out just four hours after you arrive in Seoul proper. You feel bad for bringing him somewhere far and not giving him enough hours to rest. Then, he tells you: "It's one of the best nights I've ever had."
He sounds so sincere that you have to stop yourself from blushing red.
In the schedule Jinnie gave you, you are only required to make an appearance in the race proper on the 24th. You have the 20th, 21st, and 22nd to work on your single before having to fly out on the 23rd. Regardless, you fly to Japan on the 21st with Jinnie in tow, two days earlier than your original schedule.
Jinnie doesn't question nor protest against your obvious disobedience on the appointed schedule. You're glad she didn't.
"Lando?" you question after seeing the man standing behind your hotel door. It's nearly twelve and you've just checked in the hotel with Jinnie. "What are you..."
"Just checking in," he smiles. "Do you mind if I come in?"
"Don't you have a race tomorrow?" Despite your question, you sidestep to let him inside your hotel room. "You should be resting."
"That's okay. I'm well rested. Are you going to watch the FP1 tomorrow?"
You shake your head, "I'm going to work on my song."
"Oh," his face falls. "Why'd you fly in early then?"
You shrug.
Honestly, you don't know either.
It's an act based purely on impulse. Not your finest moments.
"Maybe I can watch?" you say. "I'm not really sure."
You don't want to get mobbed again.
ORACLE has a rather large fanbase in Japan. You know there will be curious fans who'll await your appearance in the race. And while you're glad that your PR relationship with Lando is receiving the right type of attention from the public, you still hate having this much attention on you.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Lando says.
"I'll go," you decide with finality. "I mean this is why we're doing this in the first place, right? Make people believe that we're real."
Lando's lips form a line.
"I suppose."
"Then, I'll be there."
The song making can wait.
Once again, Jinnie takes charge in deciding your clothing. You’ve long since given up on protesting or even suggesting your ideas. You have to get used to it again. Wearing whatever is given to you like a doll. After all, you are to return to the stage of KPop again.
Today’s WAG OOTD is a Miu Miu black dress, a black leather jacket, and Gianvito Rossi strappy sandals. Nothing too impressive. It's just the free practice sessions after all.
Jinnie hands you the McLaren ball cap and you grimace.
“How's the song coming up?”
“I’ve been trying to combine my demos and see how it sounds,” you reply. “But I have a concept in mind and I jotted down a few phrases for the lyrics.”
“I got an email from Yoon PD-nim today. He’s strongly suggesting you use a racing concept for your single.”
Strongly suggesting.
Translation: commanding.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Fuck it.
He’s really going to use the scandal and hope it’ll make you rise from the ashes like a phoenix reborn. The problem is that you're far from a phoenix. You’re human. As disappointing that may be but that is the cold truth. You're uncertain how people will react if you use a racing concept. You cannot afford to risk this over something like this.
You have one chance. And if KNetz reacts badly on your song and your MV, you’re never going to have another chance to go back on stage, to go back home.
Yoon PD-nim is too thoughtless at times. You want to shake him.
Jinnie drives you to the paddock and drops you to the parking lot. You expect that you’ll have to find your way to the garage again alone. Your knees are trembling as you step out of the car.
To your surprise, a staff member of the McLaren team—you assume he works for the team because of the orange polo shirt—approaches you as you exit the car.
“[Name]?”
“Hi,” you offer a polite smile.
“I’m Rick, I’m one of Lando’s mechanics, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces.
“Pleasure is all mine, Sir,” you say, dipping your chin into a small bow.
“Come this way,” he beckons. You follow him.
“Did Lando ask you to pick me up?”
“Well, he insisted on picking you up but the race was about to start so we had to force him to stay put in the livery and he wouldn't stay put until we said we’ll pick you up. Said people might flock over you and you don't like it when it happens.”
Your heart warms.
“That's very thoughtful of him. And sweet.”
“That's Lando Norris for you,” he says. “He’s always treating all the people he’s working with kindly. He only has to be polite but he even exerts effort in helping and making our work easier.”
“That's true,” you agree. “I can attest to that, as his fake girlfriend. He only has to treat me well when there's a camera but he’s even going as far as offering friendship.”
The rest of the walk to McLaren was peaceful. Or at least as peaceful as you hope it can be.
#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#f1 imagines#fluff#fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 x reader#kpop idol! reader
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pairing: levi ackerman x reader
wc: 400
warnings: none <33
18+ → minors / blank blogs dni
After the Titan war, after the dust has settled on the battlefield, a single thought finds itself ever present at the forefront of your brain. A single command that keeps your body moving, keeps your legs running no matter how hard they ache. Keeps your blood pumping and your heart racing. A single mission left, one you can’t fail.
You have to find him.
When Eren screamed, when you lost yourself and became a thoughtless Titan hellbent on following the new founders every command. You lost Levi. You lost your lifeblood. No matter how much you ache, no matter how terribly you just want to collapse— your body just can’t find it in itself to do so. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, pushing you, forcing you to find him. To continue on your desperate search of the barren wasteland. To search through the bodies of fallen comrades. To find your other half. To make sure he’s okay.
The moment you lay eyes on him, the moment you see him resting against that rock, a tear rolling down his cheek, a weight lifts off your shoulders. Your heart stops pounding. The food from your vision clears. Your legs carry your frame to him without thinking. You never have to think when it comes to him. At this point it feels like everything comes too easy. Loving him is easy.
Your hands find his temples, holding him. Letting you know that he is real. That you both still are. Your forehead presses against his own as your legs collapse. Finally safe. Finally with him. Tears swell in your eyes. It’s over, the story has reached its conclusion. You are free.
“You can rest now.”
Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. You know he heard it. His arm slumps, muscles relaxing as you finally hold him. As you keep him close. As the two of you make it out of a battle for the final time together. You both live together. All of your hopes and dreams can finally be realised. All of the hardships are worth it just for this, for now. For the present— for a future where you two can grow old, for a future where the two of you can find refuge in each others souls without worry.
A future where happiness is your only worry.
#☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wifey notes !!#little Drabble bc I miss my husband#I want to hold him#levi ackerman#levi#levi x reader#levi x you#aot levi#snk levi#aot x reader#aot#attack on titan#attack on titan levi#aot x you#aot levi x reader#levi fluff#I didn’t edit this it’s just something I needed to get off of my chest bc I just want to comfort him and reassure him that we can be happy#‧ ₊ ˚ 📋 ⋅ ⊹ lily writes .ᐟ#‧ ₊ ˚ ☕️ ⋅ ⊹ drabbles .ᐟ
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Unfamiliar Waters
Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral.
Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words.
Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair.
Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!
You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.
“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.
“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”
“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”
“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”
“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”
You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.
He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”
“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”
His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said.
“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”
Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.
“Then allow me.” You smirked.
He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”
“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.
“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”
“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.
“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.
“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.
He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.”
“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.
He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.
You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.”
You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”
“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”
“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.
“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.”
The same one you liked to use.
With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.
“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.
He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.
With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes.
Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.
An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.
“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”
“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.
You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan.
“That feels positively wonderful.”
“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences.
His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss.
“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.
There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life.
Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.
“I do rather like that, you know…”
“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.
“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up.
A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.
“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.
“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”
You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily.
A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.
#astarion#astarion ancunin#tav x astarion#astarion x tav#reader x astarion#astarion x reader#bg3#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#my fic#bg3 fic#fanfic#vampire
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my first & last love (gojo x reader)
satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru
tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst
word count: 11k
The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song.
It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did).
Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.
It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing.
You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes.
“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it.
For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time.
“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat.
“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.
His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.
“--I like Getou and I need your help.”
“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”
He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”
It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”
“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”
Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again.
You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.
“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool.
“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself.
“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”
Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”
You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”
“I do.” He says quickly.
You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”
“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”
Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.
Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why.
“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty?
Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”
“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”
“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”
You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”
I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it. It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own.
Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”
“Uh the goodness of your heart?”
“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”
“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!”
He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”
“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.”
“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude.
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you, I mean it.”
Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”
He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead.
Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning.
He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification.
(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come
Him: come ??? cum
(Name): it’s too early to be doing this
He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan
(Name): SATORU
(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS
Him: WHAT
Him: HELLO???
(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA
(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME
(Name): WHAT DO I DO?
Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.
Him: say hi back
Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly
(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn
(Name): jk he just said bye :(
Him: should’ve done what i told u to do
Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.
Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?
Him: yeah why
Suguru: Nothing
It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.
His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it.
Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop.
Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again.
Suguru: She’s cute
Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.
Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it.
You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake.
The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.
Gojo: omw to ur house
Gojo: ill be there in 10
You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear
Gojo: …
Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?
You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY?
You: so i need ur opinion
Gojo: dude
Gojo: ok
Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine
You: yeah but what specifically?
Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma
Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party
Gojo: no offense
You: but i liked that dress :((((
You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways
Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way
You: wow okay thanks
Gojo: you looked nice
Gojo: ANYWAYS
Gojo: a pair of jeans
Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders
You: really?
Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up
You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day.
You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off.
Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”
“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you.
“Atta girl.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.
On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it.
“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode.
“Game plan?”
“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”
“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light.
“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”
At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.”
Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party.
You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!”
“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.
“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”
“You’re not–”
“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”
“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you.
For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”
“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”
“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”
You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?”
“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”
“Suguru.”
You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?”
“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”
You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”
“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago.
You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.
Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?”
Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.”
“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom.
The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.
The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit.
You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders.
“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”
You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?”
“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you.
“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”
In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”
Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it.
Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.
You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”
A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“I like when you compliment me.”
“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”
The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne.
And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well.
Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?
But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week.
Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on.
If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.
What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another.
You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”
“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts.
“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie.
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was.
Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache.
Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air.
Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid.
If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you.
No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.
He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking.
His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else.
He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”
“Satoru?”
Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers.
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it.
“What’s up Satoru–?”
“Party’s off.”
“What? Wait what are you–”
“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand.
You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less.
The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.
“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.
You only nod. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah I can take you back–”
“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”
For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”
“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace.
You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”
This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”
You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”
“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place.
Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”
“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”
“Today?”
“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”
“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”
“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”
You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”
“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”
Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you.
His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.
Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind.
“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”
“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa.
“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit.
You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”
“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.
“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”
“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”
“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”
“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”
“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs.
You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”
This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”
You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”
“Are you?”
“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”
He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”
“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?”
“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”
He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru.
His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”
“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes.
���Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face.
“Satoru–”
The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more.
“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”
As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you.
“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”
Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”
“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”
You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back.
If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.
He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you.
At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that.
So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?
You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date.
Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.
“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here.
“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be.
It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”
“What?”
“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”
“I’m not–”
“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”
This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.
“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”
When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”
Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”
This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”
“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”
You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”
“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”
You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.
“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something.
“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”
Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”
Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”
“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”
“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”
“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”
“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”
“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”
“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”
You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.”
His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”
“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”
You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”
“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.
If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru.
You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—
The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“
“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”
You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”
She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone.
You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“
“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.”
“What? But you just got here—“
“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave.
Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“
“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.”
You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear.
By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”
“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.
“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light.
“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”
After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing.
Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?
No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you.
Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it.
The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace.
You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed.
“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile.
“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.
Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name.
“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes.
“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs.
You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in.
You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb.
“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”
“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”
You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you.
“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?”
Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”
“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth.
He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”
“I–”
“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”
“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder.
“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship.
“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”
“(Name)...”
“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”
You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this.
Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed.
He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on.
Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru.
That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind.
When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him.
You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him.
Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms?
He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this.
If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.
You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”
“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”
“I’m not–”
“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”
You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”
“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”
You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”
You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”
He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”
At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”
“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”
You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”
“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”
You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”
“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal.
“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”
The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck.
You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”
He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?”
When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time.
#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x reader#jjk#fluff#angst#satoru x reader#satoru x you
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summary: in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.
> idol!jungkook x reader / est. relationship, fluff, angst / word count: 7k
> content/warnings: yea shirtless jungkook should be a warning… one (1) spank then he kisses it better, also gives a kiss to that lil bow on oc’s undies >:( + a flashback of oc crying and him getting stressed out bcs oc is a careless brat fr
> in which masterlist!
note: hehe i’m here <3 this drabble is basically just oc in a mood and jungkook being the sweetest bf ever 🤨 idk how it got this long either heh it didn’t feel that way at all while i wrote-edited? but i hope u enjoy and i’d love to hear ur thoughts 🥺 reblogs/feedback are appreciated !! <3
—
“oh my god- fuck!”
you cover your mouth in shock, squeezing your eyes shut and flinching at the ear-splitting sound that bounces off the walls of the apartment.
jungkook is rendered frozen, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slacked, staring down at his shirt largely stained by the chocolate milk you were walking around with after brunch.
“damn…”
his eyes are irritable when they communicate with yours.
“baby! really? did it have to be the white one?”
but seconds later, they become worried and calculating — wandering all over the tiled floor, and then your bare feet infront of his slides-clad ones, surrounded by shattered pieces of ceramic.
the collateral damage. an unforeseen tragedy.
suffice to say, jungkook woke up this morning blissfully unaware of the turbulent storm threatening to make a playground out of your mind. it’s craving to feed destruction, and here he is living with you under the same roof, an unfortunate casualty from your antics.
the hand-painted mug, wet from the condensation, slipped away from your hands when you accidentally collided with his tough build at the intersection of the living room and the kitchen. this… wasn’t part of the plan. the plan was a little spill and this is a landslide.
“that was expensive too.” you utter wistfully, chest deflating as you release an exasperated breath. “sorry. i’ll clean up everything. just stay there and i’ll- when did i last see the broom-”
his doe eyes grow two times its size when you start looking around the apartment in search of the broom, and perhaps something you can use to pat yourself and jungkook dry, causing your feet to unconsciously shift on the treacherous ground.
“ba-baby! don’t move! you’re going to hurt yourself. are you crazy?” he interrupts you with a hiss, voice stern as his hands curl around your arms to hold you steady. “it’s okay. this is nothing, i’m not mad… just stay still, understand?”
you nod slowly as he lets go, eyebrows knitting together to convey confusion when he starts pulling his shirt over his head, revealing miles of bare skin and planes of defined muscles on a perfect silhouette. perfect because it’s jungkook.
alright… to see him half-naked wasn’t one of your intentions, but you’re definitely not one to complain.
“tsk, i think i need to shower again.”
figuring that the internet has a solution to every problem one could think of, jungkook has decided to accept the horror that has happened to his shirt. what was it again? salt? vinegar? baking soda? powder? fuck it, he’ll search for it later.
he throws caution to the wind by using it to wipe his damp torso, brushing it over his tan skin glistening with a sheen of the liquid that you wittingly spilled. he winces at the uncomfortable stickiness that could be felt across his stomach, but he can’t help but to laugh when he sees how it further accentuated his abs.
and if only you were in a chipper mood today, you would be laughing along with him. would’ve taken over cleaning him up, apologized with a kiss on his waist. too bad you’re not.
eventually, he gives up on erasing on the feeling, proceeding to fold the shirt in halves.
“what are you doing?” you snap, putting on a guise of harsher irritation over your dreamy stares at your boyfriend’s glorious physique. “are we just supposed to stand here forever like idiots?”
“what is this? why are you so grumpy today?” he questions with a frown, patting your cheek with the soft cottony fabric because the splash managed to reach your face unbeknownst to you.
and then he bends down to place the folded shirt infront of your feet, looking up to you with his galaxy-filled eyes to say, “here- come on. stand here while i clean up.”
you stand isolated on the safe zone he created, childishly pouting with your arms crossed over chest as you wait for him to pick up your slippers in the bedroom.
the simple answer to jungkook’s question is you’re bored and in a bad mood. the more complex answer would be you came up with a one-man game you can only win if you successfully piss your boyfriend off, but you’re too scared to pull off anything that will legitimately make him upset with you.
because the last time you made him angry, it hasn’t been… that long ago. he’s been keeping a closer eye on you since then, and you’ve been trying to be good. keyword being trying. after all, you did lost his car key… at a beach three hours away from home. you searched the entire shore — retraced your steps, made your knees and palms bleed digging through the rocky sand, curled up by the waves to wallow in self-blame and the smell of salt-air defeat. you were nearly in tears as you listened to the call ring for what felt like an eternity, unsure if he already wrapped up the company meeting he mentioned to you the day before.
you still remember the desperate words you greeted him with instead of ‘hello’.
“babe, promise me you won’t be mad.”
—
“____, you didn’t even tell me you were coming here! care to explain that to me first? huh?”
your name, and not ‘baby’? heavens above have mercy; you’re fucked.
jungkook presses the heels of his palms over his eyes to alleviate the dull throbbing of his head, breathing heavily to compose himself, but he can’t disguise the frustration deeply embedded in his voice.
“you scared me!”
not yelling, but tone evidently very upset with you. somehow, that makes you feel worse.
“i had to make up an excuse infront of everyone and drive here fast. i was so worried of you being here all alone when it gets dark!”
“it’s your car so i thought i had to let you know right away. i’m sorry.” you chew at your bottom lip anxiously, eyes brimming with tears as you barely muster up the courage to observe how he’s handling this.
your heart pounds louder in your chest when he finally looks down at you, guilty and gloomy, sat on a wooden bench painted yellow. it drops to your stomach when you see the sullen expression painting his face a light shade of red.
“where did you lose it?”
you open your mouth, but no words come out. you can only manage to point at the shore with your disoriented eyes, and he traces the direction with his. the majestic orange sky where the sun descends below the horizon fails to be recognized by your foggy, distracted minds.
it’s silent for a few beats, then he huffs, breathing out a sarcastic chuckle before burying his face in hands.
“baby, please. please. are you sure you’re not pranking me right now?”
“no! do you think i’d joke like this? i really tried my best to find it!” you sniffle, roughly wiping away the lone tear that escapes your eye. you’re almost too humiliated to continue talking, volume falling a few notches above a whisper. “but the waves were getting stronger.”
he vehemently shakes his head, rendered speechless and stuttering, malfunctioning. he doesn’t think he has ever imagined this type of scenario before. “this is crazy. really… this is unbelievable… how did this even happen?”
he exhales loudly before removing his hands, revealing a calmer exterior. be that as it may, his skin is more flushed, all the way to his ears and down to his neck, where his veins have become noticeably prominent.
“i mean, what else can we do about it? i’ll request for a new one.”
“but are we just going to leave the car here?”
“did you leave anything in there?”
“i left my bag, but…” you pat the pockets of your skirt to check if your valuables didn’t meet the same fate as the car key. “i brought my phone and wallet with me.”
he nods. “then i’ll call a towing service.”
you pout.
“it’s such a bother.”
feeling exhausted after burning a concerning amount of energy in search of the missing item, you stand on wobbly feet to loop your arms around his waist.
maybe it’s to coax him into forgiving you. maybe it’s to make yourself feel better, nuzzle your face on his chest to drive away the anxiety weighing on your shoulders. but as it’s being lifted off, so is the barrier withholding your salty tears.
“i’m so careless. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i should’ve drove my car instead.”
“ye- no, that’s not…” he cuts himself off with a sigh.
he puts an arm around you, pushing his hair back and repeatedly carding his fingers through it out of habit.
“seriously, baby… you stress me out so much, do you know that? you’re always wandering around places you’re not familiar with… this is secluded. it’s dangerous. you could get hurt if you bump into the wrong people… really, i’m just relieved it’s not yourself that you lost this time!”
the recollection of old flashbacks playing in his mind like a movie reel elicits a throaty chuckle from him, low and rough, the vibrations of his chest rudely awakening the butterflies in your stomach.
“you couldn’t even send me a text. you didn’t turn on your location. i would’ve lost my fucking mind again… did you even thought of that? or is that what you wanted, huh? baby? you enjoy driving me crazy like this?”
and the confession tucked inside his scolding obliterates any coherent thoughts in your head, causing you to lose control of your whirlwind of emotions.
“this isn’t fair. you said you won’t be mad.” you wail out in response, tears fiercely leaking from your eyes akin to a rainstorm. “i didn’t know this would happen!”
he clicks his tongue, gingerly caressing your wet cheeks with his thumb, then with the rest of his fingers, and the paw of his jacket, because the streams just seem to have no plans of ceasing. his wide eyes worriedly scans your tear-stained face, heart squeezed painfully by the restrained sobs forcefully ripping themselves from your throat.
“shhh, shh. don’t cry- don’t cry. i’m not mad, i was just worried about you.”
“jungkook, you’re lying.” you whine. “don’t lie to me. i don’t like it.”
he slowly blinks at you, head hanging low as to compose his thoughts before he reconnects with your eyes. a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips before his tongue unconsciously sweeps over them, its tip catching the silver ring piercing through his skin to play with it.
a moment of silence, thick with restlessness and anticipation, harder to breathe with the unique smell of the salt-air entering and leaving your lungs.
you feel small under his stoic gaze. you want to sit back down and cry harder.
your boyfriend is mad. your boyfriend is infuriatingly hot even when he’s disappointed in you. you need to dig a hole in the sand and live there forever. after everything, these are the only thoughts left running in your head.
“okay, fine. you lost the key of our car in the ocean, ____. but what if someone already found it by chance?” he cocks his head to the side, briefly peering at the road behind you.
he knows that it’s no use. even if he does see the white jeep wheeling by, is he supposed to assume that he can outrun it by some heaven-granted miracle?
“what then? hm…? what else can we do? i guess it could be getting stolen right now and we don’t even know. you parked so far away.”
god, please, not your favorite car.
“it’s not only the car. i still have important documents left in the compartment too.” this only dawns on him now, judging by the look of distress written on his face. he suddenly slaps his thigh, and you flinch a little. “fuck! i should’ve cleaned sooner!”
“then you are mad.” you arrive at a conclusion, chin wobbling as you sniffle. “about a lot of things.”
you resist the urge to stomp your feet. you want to throw a tantrum so bad. tell him that he shouldn’t be keeping such things in the car in the first place, that he owns a safe for fuck’s sake, but you know you can’t get away with shifting the blame because you messed up horribly in comparison.
“i get it. i’m sorry… i take full responsibility this time.”
“shit, baby.” he deeply sighs.
it becomes quiet again. he just looks at your face with knitted eyebrows, not saying anything more, and you try your best to cut off your crying, not to act conscious, but your eyes still fall on the sand. they stay there for a few beats to avoid the intensity of his gaze.
he almost sounds pained when he finally speaks. “how can i stay mad at you when you’re crying?”
he tilts up your chin, and your glassy eyes, sparkling with a new wave of tears, look at him beseechingly.
the setting sun. an eternal witness to a brand new day of humans being humans. it kisses your skin with its golden light, bathing your figure to radiate an angelic glow that drives him to consider once more that you could just be an enchanting character across dreams and the year is still 2017.
you sniffle again, brushing off his hand. sometimes you despise that jungkook brings out messiest, most unstable side of you. you know that he practically signed up for this, and he will always love you the same, love you even more. but that doesn’t take away the fact that you’re so embarrassed.
“but i’m not crying just to make you feel bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“yah, that wasn’t what i meant?” he frowns, eyes softening at your reply. “of course. i know that.”
the cracks in your voice, he seals with a soft kiss on your lips, tender and swollen caused by the onslaught of your sharp teeth.
“anyway, i can take care of replacing it. i mean, it’s not like it can get stolen just like that, right…?”
he sounds rather nervous convincing the both of you.
“but i’m most worried about you. i can lose everything but you.” his tattooed arm pulls you closer, casting aside the tension by leaving not even an inch of space between your bodies. he tenderly rubs your back to console you, and another kiss is granted to your temple, his soothing voice slightly muffled as his lips stay glued to you. “did i make you cry? i’m sorry, baby, i’m sorry… it’s okay. things like this can happen.”
“no, i’m sorry.” you aggressively shake your head and he carries on with wiping your cheeks, the back of his hand brushing off the tears that drip across your chin. he dries his hand on the hem of his jacket only to get it wet all over again.
“let’s just learn from this and move on. promise me that you’ll be more careful next time, okay? you can do that, right?”
jungkook does scold you every now and then, but although you stress him out, he would hate it if he’s not the first person you call when you’re in trouble. he would hate it if you act nonchalant and secretly cry when you’re hurt. but most of all, he can’t imagine a life in which you don’t make his world spin, much as he tends to get too dizzy at times.
your defiant hum makes his tense shoulders drop in disappointment.
“there should be a bus stop somewhere, i’ll just go home on my own. i don’t want to keep stressing you out.”
you will yourself to break free from his embrace, dragging yourself away to leave behind a trail of footprints in the sand, and he knows he’ll be running after you today, too.
“oh? you better stop right there!” he warns with a hand over his hip.
you become smaller and smaller in his eyes with every tick of the clock, much like how the sun is gradually getting swallowed by the ocean.
“i’ll get angry for real if you disappear from my sight. really, i’m not joking!”
angry? what a joke. you know that he’d cry blood searching for you if you get lost.
“oh? you’re really not going to stop?!”
jungkook’s voice fall on deaf ears, except that of the dog leashed to a tree that stands infront of a humble home. it seethingly barks at him from many meters away.
“fucking shit. i need alcohol.” he chuckles to himself, rubbing his tired eyes. “____, i swear, you’re getting too stubborn these days. what should i do with you?”
but you’re too far away to hear him, and so, he answers himself.
“eh, it is what it is.”
the wind blows with a quiet whistle, deadly as it fuels the roaring waves.
“AH! nuh-uh!” he exclaims, jaw dropping in alarm when he sees an urgent reason to chase after you, putting those leg days at the gym to good use.
you jump, a squeak leaving your mouth when out of nowhere, a solicitous palm smooths over your behind, sliding down to the back of your thighs to hold down your rippling skirt.
but you’re determined to be unyielding, eyes shooting daggers at jungkook. “leave me alone. i can do it myself.”
“baby, isn’t that a little rude? is that how you say ‘thank you’?”
“thank you. now let’s go our separate ways.”
and just like that, you’re walking away again.
“shit.” he curses quietly through gritted teeth, pulling at his hair. “babe, please come back… i’m sorry! i didn’t mean that!”
—
“jungkook! how many times do i need to tell you to turn off faucet properly?!”
you’re hot on jungkook’s tail as he makes his way to the laundry room beside the kitchen, carrying a laundry basket over his hip. he’s still shirtless, only clad in a different pair of shorts after a quick shower.
“the bathroom sink was close to overflowing! again!”
“i know what you’re doing.”
“what? what am i doing?”
the basket touches the ground, standing beside the dryer, and then he turns to face you, eyebrows shooting up. “picking a fight with me won’t work today.”
“why?” your tone borders on a whine.
“what do you mean ‘why’?” he laughs in jest. “why? why do you want to fight with me so bad?”
“i don’t know.” you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes and shrugging. “just because!”
“well, that’s not very convincing, is it?” he teases you with a grin, proceeding to open the dryer to dump the fresh laundry in the basket. the clothes you wore in the past week once again soaked up the sweet, floral scent the people around you distinctly recognizes to be your own and jungkook’s.
“i know, but i’m done playing now. you’re not hearing me.” you close your eyes in frustration, recounting the other times you had to say these exact words. “you’re going to flood our house.”
“okay, okay. i won’t forget to double-check it from now on. i promise.”
“sure, that’s what you also said last time.” you indignantly scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m not turning it off for you anymore. if we get flooded, i’m leaving you. i’m moving out.”
your threat puts a halt to his movements for a split second before he’s adorably replying in a sing-song voice. “then i’m going with you.”
“no, you’re not.”
and it doesn’t come as a shock to you that jungkook doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.
“huh! good luck trying to stop me.” he slams the door of the dryer shut, standing up straight. “it’s not easy getting rid of me. you know that.”
he walks to the middle of the room to get a good view of you at the entrance. with the other resting on his hip, he lies his palm flat over the counter, outstretched arm cascading with varied colors of ink in sharp lines and swirling curves.
fuck, he has to know what he’s doing — flexing his muscles like that, not playing fair.
“aigoo, look at you glaring at me. you want to fight?”
and you’d feel intimidated by his challenging stare, the quirk of his eyebrow, his teeth sinking on his bottom lip… only if he didn’t blink to rake a stare over your body, lingering on your smooth legs that couldn’t be covered by your mere underwear. only if they didn’t flicker back to your face, and only if he didn’t smirk like a lovesick fool.
“so cute.” he chuckles. “you’re totally my type.”
“shut up.” you roll your eyes at the random compliment. “i know, i already get that a lot.”
his smile then fades, not so thrilled with the reminder that it’s so easy to fall in love with you, and therefore anyone would die to take his place. he knows that they hover around you like moths to a flame when he’s not there. well, he really can’t blame them, can he? you’re so fucking attractive.
“what does that mean…? who else is saying it, huh? tell me. i think i have a few guesses.”
“does it matter?” you stare at him blankly, which then turns into a piercing glare. “jungkook! i was just talking about you not paying enough attention. look at you proving me right!”
the stomp of your feet on the floor tells him that you’ve reached a level of frustration near to inducing a flood of tears.
oh, he truly got called out, huh?
“i’m sorry- i’m sorry. i admit that. i’m sorry, my love. i was just joking around. i’m listening well now.” he winces guiltily, beckoning you to be where he is. “come here then.”
“i don’t want to.” you stay rooted in your spot. “who do you think you are?”
“m-me…? i’m your boyfriend. boyfriend!” he points at himself, index finger repeatedly poking his bare chest to emphasize his point. his arm then drops to his side. his doe eyes widen as he breathes out a sigh of disbelief. “oh, i’m really getting upset now?”
you bite back a smile. the sweet taste of victory.
you can’t be the only one, can you?
“aish, i see you’re having your way again.” he chuckles, taking it upon himself to cross the distance between you. his hands find purchase on the curves of your waist, and every nerve in your body turns into a live wire. “let’s just go out today. do you want to practice boxing at the gym with me?”
didn’t he just watch you do arms day this morning? does he think you have the same stamina as him? you make a face of disapproval and shake your head.
“shall we go to a rage room again then? break more stuff?” he playfully sticks his tongue out, and you glare once more.
for the record, you loved that mug.
“boring.”
“and fighting with me is fun?”
you purse your lips into a thin line. “well, it’s not boring.”
“of course.” he laughs, softly squeezing your waist, pads of his thumbs mindlessly tracing shapes over the fabric of your top.
all of a sudden, he’s tugging you closer to envelope you in his embrace, voice slightly muffled as he sweetly talks. “are you mad at me for real? i’m sorry. sorry, sorry, sorry. sorry. i’ll really be more mindful of the things you remind me about, i swear… i don’t like fighting. it breaks my heart when you cry.”
what is this five foot ten man with bulging biceps, tattoo sleeve, and piercings doing here in the crook of your neck — affectionately nuzzling his face on your skin and telling you in a baby voice that he doesn’t like fighting?
you don’t know, but you feel good.
and his bare body is so comfortingly soft and warm.
he draws back for a kiss but his nose and lips only graze your cheek when you turn away, and you don’t see the sadness that flashes across his face.
“so what i’m hearing is… you don’t like fighting with me because i’m too sensitive? is that the truth?”
“no!” he perks up to interject without hesitation, shaking his head. “but i don’t think that’s a bad thing anyway… being sensitive.”
but you admit being a crybaby. you cry when you’re angry.
that’s when jungkook distinguishes the glint of mischief swimming in your irises. he feels dizzy after having his heart drop to his stomach.
“no. no, no.”
his mirthful grin returns, revealing his perfect set of teeth.
“ahh, i’m stressed!” he closes his eyes, throwing his head back, chest puffing up when he breathes in then out. “i knew it. no, i’m not falling for this trap!”
then he flees the room carrying the laundry basket, leaving you doubled over and covering your mouth to silence your giggles of amusement.
“i’m hanging the laundry now!”
“how dare you walk away from me?!”
“you can’t follow me!”
“i’m not.” you scoff, purposely bumping your hips against his. “i’ll vacuum the living room.”
—
“where are you going? gym?” you genuinely begin to sulk, watching your boyfriend slide into a baggy pair of bleached denim pants. “are you leaving me here?”
he avoids your inquiring eyes, ignoring you as he pulls up his zipper and does the button. you pout when he walks further away to pull out a black shirt from the clothing rack.
“is that it? are you tired of me already?”
he tosses its hanger in the basket where you discard the empty ones before wearing the final piece of clothing, covering himself fully for the first time today.
you sigh, feeling dejected. “you don’t love me anymore?”
and jungkook needs to physically restrain himself so he won’t grab your face and say ‘i love you’ over and over again until he runs out of breath.
you leave the closet to follow him to the bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the mattress to put on his socks.
you stand by him, patience quickly running thin. “hello?”
he brushes away the non-existent dirt on the left sock before switching his legs to put on the right one.
“did i turn invisible?”
your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. this isn’t how fighting works. you need a reaction at the very least.
you tug at the sleeve of his shirt, starting to get annoyed, already planning your exit if he continues this act. “you’re hurting my feelings. you’re not even going to look at me?”
he mumbles, and you almost fail to piece his phrase together. “can’t, you’re too pretty.”
his big brown eyes faintly glimmer with hope when he looks up at you, puckering his rose-tinted lips and making kissing sounds.
your sweet and clingy boyfriend, he’s making this too difficult.
a tsunami of affection washes over you, and it becomes impossible for you not to crack at his cheekiness then. “jungkook, you’re impossible!”
atleast he tried to shoot his shot.
“tsk, see? i thought so!” he grumbles, snapping the elastic band on his ankle. “just want one kiss.”
he disappears into the closet again.
he returns not a minute later, unceremoniously placing a white bucket hat on your head before tugging it down to obstruct your vision.
“hey!”
you hastily take it off, scowling at your laughing boyfriend who turns out to be already wearing a black bucket hat of his own.
“you’re bored, aren’t you? let’s go out, have some sun.”
“no.”
you reply exactly as your boyfriend predicted you would.
jungkook captures your wrist to slip his credit card on your palm, folding your fingers over it, but they aren’t enough to hide the black rectangular thing you can use to buy the world with if you wanted to. your amusement spills out as giggles, brighter as he pushes your hand to your chest so you have no other choice but to accept it.
he scrunches his nose, face only inches away from yours as he persuades you with his natural charm. “what if we go shopping, hmm?”
“thanks babe, but i can’t think of anything i want right now.” you sniffle with teary eyes, flipping the card and holding it between your longest fingers as muscle memory takes control.
“then just keep it incase you see something you want.”
he kneels on the floor out of the blue, and you eye him curiously, your fingers automatically tangling with his silky locks before making a loose fist.
“here, put some pants on. hurry-” he presents your pair of faded gray cargo pants.
you tug at his hair lightly, which prompts him to lift his head. you scrunch your nose cutely, giggling. “i’m spoiled.”
“ey, so what if you are?” he brushes off your observation with his satoori accent, blithe tone listing down reasons. “i love you. i worked hard so i can do these things for you. we moved in together so we can take care of each other.”
and you want to cry. you truly do. your face began to feel warm after he said that he loves you, but the tears never make it past your lash line when his big palm lands a loud smack on your ass, skin-to skin.
“but i do think that you are a brat. does that count for something?”
it catches you by surprise, and a scandalized gasp escapes your mouth as you feel the sting spreading across your skin.
“shut up! give that to me.” you roll your eyes, stealing the pants from his grasp.
“see, that’s what i’m talking about.” he chuckles lightheartedly. “get dressed then.”
his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs when he pulls you closer to kiss the tiny little ribbon on your underwear, heart-shaped lips pressed to you so firmly you can trace their outline bleeding through the thin fabric and onto your skin. “mmm-mwah!”
and then you feel them there next, where it still hurts, a softer kiss in comparison to soothe the sting he left behind.
your heart is beating so loud you can feel it in your throat, feeble knees nearly giving away to crash and break.
who does that so casually? who the hell does that?
oh, right… jungkook. of course.
you raise the white flag today.
perhaps he will flood the apartment tomorrow, and you can stay angry longer then.
—
“what’s taking him so long?” you mutter absentmindedly to yourself, lost eyes scanning the park in hopes of getting a glimpse of your boyfriend and his classic jungkook outfit, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.
your sour mood makes a reappearance.
to your credit, taking you out and then asking you to wait here without telling you where he’s going is rude, and you’re lonely and jealous of the couples around you having a picnic. not to mention that the clouds have uncovered the sun and you’re burning.
this scene also leads your brain to wander to those cliche flashbacks in a film or a show where a parent lies to their child that they’ll come back, and then they doesn’t. it’s always, always at some sort of park.
oh, for fuck’s sake, why are you wasting your time giving this a lot of thought?
too bored and antsy to sit still, you finally decide to text jungkook.
to: my baby love
i'm gonna look for food. do you want anything?
orrr is that what you're away buying 😥
WHERE ARE YOU
why didn't you just take me with youuuu
?
please me lonely :(
[sent 1 photo]
a black cat !! is sleeping on my shoes!! 😭
i miss you :(
are you almost done
i hate u
whatever i'm going. call if you still remember that you're someone's bf i guess.
—
jungkook crosses the street like an excited puppy, long pretty hair bouncing as he practically skips his way to the area where he left you to wait.
only to be greeted by a complete stranger.
his radiant beam fades into a hue of confusion.
the bench is now occupied by a woman chugging an energy drink after running laps around the park.
they lock eyes for a split second. he averts his befuddled stare to pretend that nothing happened, walking past her with a bouquet of sunflowers until he settles down two benches away.
he wears his bucket hat again only for him to throw it aside with a sigh, messing with his hair to release his frustration. of course you left. he can only snort to himself while he reads the last message you sent. you’re so cute. he knows you’ve never been keen on having to wait, but he didn’t expect himself to take so long either.
not wanting you to be upset with him another second longer, he instantly decides to call you.
his forehead creases when his phone vibrates, informing him that he typed an incorrect password. he tries again, slow and deliberate, only for the same thing to happen, and he begins to feel nervous.
what the fuck?
okay, calm down, JK. one more time.
he freezes as the same words flash on the screen. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he feels the irritation bubbling up inside of him.
“why is it like this…? what’s your problem? what am i touching wrong?”
—
you return to the park more carefree than before. since jungkook is god knows where, you decided to have a picnic on your own. you had to buy a new picnic blanket, though. you can’t get the one in the car because he has the key. but just to be petty, you hope that he figured it out from the text notifications he got when you used his card.
oh, there he is looking angrily at his phone.
you halt on your tracks, instantly pulling the brakes on your feet when you recognize your boyfriend from your peripheral vision. you slowly chew the remaining tteokbokki in your mouth.
he’s holding his phone… and he hasn’t called you yet?
“wow, did you seriously forgot about me?”
upon hearing your familiar voice, jungkook’s features soften, not having to squint at the sunlight either because you’ve kindly blocked it with your back.
“where did you even go? i didn’t see you!”
the password-protected device that’s been giving him a headache for the past ten minutes is abandoned in the depths of his pocket.
“baby,” he utters airily as he stands on his feet, reaching out to hold your forearm. “i’m sorry. i took so long, didn’t i…? i went to buy you flowers but they didn’t have tulips anywhere. anywhere. every shop said someone bought all of them!”
he scratches his head with a sheepish grin, revealing the bouquet he’s been concealing behind him.
“i got you sunflowers instead… they-” he points at them, eyes flickering on the bundle of yellow flowers he’s offering as a gift. “they’re not bad. i think they’re pretty too. you like them too, right?”
sunflowers are pretty. after all, it used to be your favorite in middle school, mostly because it’s the first flower you received from an admirer… it was for your birthday and you felt like you died when it withered, heavily on-brand for a young heart drawn to romance. excluding that, everything has changed. it’s a typical saturday and beads of sweat have formed on your lover’s forehead after running around under the sun. you think you can keep them alive longer this time around.
“i like you the most.”
and then he receives his gift in return, that particularly sweet smile of yours he only sees when you’re so giddy.
his heart flutters wildly at your following actions.
“kiss.” you adorably demand, copying his pout earlier when he was asking for a kiss.
but unlike you who left his wish ungranted, he crosses the distance to plant a kiss on your lips. he pulls away a mere three inches, muttering to confront you. “but i thought you hated me?”
“who said that? that wasn’t me.” you feign ignorance, eyes so wide as to mimic being confused. you carefully take the flowers into your embrace, subtly exchanging it with the paper bowl you’re holding. “thank you, baby… here, do you want tteokbokki?”
he goes for the fish cake first, poking it with the stick and popping it in his mouth. you find yourself too absorbed in admiring the sunflowers one by one to sense your boyfriend staring at you, thinking to himself, you’re always worth the effort and this overpriced tteokbokki is pretty damn good.
“i turned on my location like i promised i would. did you see?” you mention without looking at him, acting laidback, still too shy when anything related to the incident is brought up.
he awkwardly smiles. no, he didn’t, unfortunately. he’s still fucking locked out of his phone.
you whimper when he pinches your cheek. “good job, baby.”
—
jungkook removes his head on your stomach to lie down beside you on the red picnic blanket. his hair touches his face and he tucks them behind his ears for the millionth time today.
“will you type my password for me?”
you take his phone without question, putting yours over your chest for the meantime. you successfully unlock it within a second, experienced fingers nimble after years of typing on the daily.
“here.” you hold it out for him without looking, picking up your own phone to continue scrolling through trending topics. however, seconds pass and the heavy weight on your hand has yet to be eased, so you wiggle it to catch his attention. “hey, it’s done.”
he gasps, gaping at you in bewilderment. “how did you do that?”
“you changed it again last night, remember? because i told you our anniversary isn’t a good idea.”
shit, right. he added a new one to the list of passwords that he uses for everything. he totally forgot about that. you’ve taken over every working brain cell that he has in his body.
“baby, this is your fault!” he groans, finally snatching away his phone. “ah- i wanted to throw it away. i didn’t know what was wrong with it. i was seriously so close to crying!”
that bad? was he about to get all his data wiped out? your poor baby. you laugh out loud at his reaction, belly aching as you roll over to wrap your arm around his waist and bury your face on his side.
“anyone can guess it if they try hard enough.”
“but that was the trick, you know? they’d think it’s too easy. they wouldn’t even consider it!”
“that doesn’t mean they won’t try it!”
“ah, i don’t care. i’m changing it back.” he stubbornly pouts, falling back on the blanket.
you want to cuddle. he feels a tug on the sleeve of his shirt and he immediately understands. he allows you to use his tattooed arm as a pillow. it envelopes you entirely when he reaches for his phone to type with both hands, and you automatically snuggle with him closer by resting your head on his chest.
“fine. do what you want, you dummy. you better not leave your phone lying around.” you mutter, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as the wind blows to softly caress your face. “and don’t take more pictures of me sleeping.”
“you’re sleeping? i thought we’re going to the mall.”
“we are. i’m letting you rest before you carry shopping bags.”
“ah- wow. thanks, baby.”
you don’t how much time passes, a minute or ten or more, but falling into a deep sleep proves to be impossible with the cacophony of sounds you’re surrounded with. you’re resting somewhere away from the crowd, but there’s still the hiphop music from a bluetooth speaker, honking of vehicles… and the main culprit, jeon jungkook scrolling through tiktok on your phone and bookmarking videos for you to watch later on. you can hear his giggles louder than his heartbeat, feel them make his body vibrate throughout.
so, you give up. you open your blurry eyes with a tired sigh, blinking to readjust to the brightness. he feels your movements, your nose brushing against his neck, and he squeezes you to his side, dutifully stroking your head to remind you that you’re safe despite being in a public place because you’re with him. you kiss his cheek to show your appreciation.
you end up harmonizing with his giggles when you do decide to join him, nearly tearing up at the sight of a cat riding a motorcycle toy on the screen. a little while later, your fascination is then stolen by fiddling with his tattooed hand — tracing the veins, the lines, the tattoos; pressing the faded heart like it’s a button connected to the beating one in his ribcage; grazing the rough areas of his palm calloused by lifting heavy weights.
and as you do so, you mull over the house by the sea you’re saving up for. how much longer will it take? should you check out more locations? do you tell jungkook? that it’s your back-up plan, a place where no one knows your name, just like how this city once was. it’s where you would run to, where you would build a new life if the time comes that this one falls apart, too. if not, if not, if not, would it be so bad to wake up beside you with an ocean view when he’s sixty?
fuck, you don’t know anymore. it shouldn’t be this hard— not anticipating the worst, but still being prepared for it. you despise being an adult.
you do it absentmindedly, taking off one of your silver rings and slipping it into each of his fingers to see where it would fit best… he knows you’re only entertaining yourself, but feeling it in his ring finger still puts a lump in his throat.
“are you proposing to me?”
“this is your right hand, silly.” you tease your stunned boyfriend, sticking your tongue out. “if you want me, come and get me.”
—
taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D
—
#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook one shot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fic#jungkook fanfic#bts fluff#bts reaction#jungkook angst#jungkook smut
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Requesting an nsfw version of the fluff with vox ask from earlier! Reader just soft-domming and taking care of all his needs <3 (fem reader pref)
a/n — oh my god i really like this idea so i hope i did it justice, i’m kinda worried it’s out of character so you’ll probably see few little edits here and there.
He appeared at your door more disheveled looking than usual. He stood with his hat crooked and his bow-tie undone in the entrance, waiting to be let in.
“Is everything ok, Vox? You look a little—“
“I’m well aware of how I look, yeah. How long will it take for you to kiss me, already?” His attempt to be confident was in vain, he looked down at his feet while he said it, straightening out his suit jacket and frowning.
You didn’t lean in yet, “Did something happen at work?” You knew very well what happened; the usual, the stress of being a CEO of a company had finally caught up to him after a long week.
Not to mention whatever Val and Velvette had going on because you doubt it was pleasant to deal with.
“Look, I haven’t got all day—” He started before you shut him up with a kiss because you clearly weren’t going to get him to open up. His hands fell on the sides of your arms as your hands rested on his chest.
It didn’t take long to get back into the usual routine. Kissing turned into making out, making out turned into palming his dick through his pants and pushing him onto the bed.
He scowled, probably thinking about his suit and how you just wrinkled it with your forceful movements. But there was something else there, like he didn’t want to be treated rough.
You picked up on it and straddled his lap before kissing again, this time more tender. Surprisingly he found himself sinking into your lips and gasping softly when your fingers grazed over his pants zipper.
Slowly you pulled his dick out. Soon his other clothes came off too, and this time you were careful not to wrinkle them too much.
Vox found the next couple minutes to be strange because it was almost foreign how you were handling him.
Your strokes were gentle and thought out, not too fast and just slow enough to ease him into the mattress.
He didn’t even complain or try to take the power back, he was far too tired. Instead he just whined and shut his eyes, “Inside, inside plea—szz—se.”
You temporarily removed your hand from Vox’s cock to position yourself above him, “Of course baby, you deserve it after the day you’ve had.”
He looked up at you and moaned quietly, confirming your suspicions. When you sank down on him he whimpered and bucked his hips ever so slightly.
He looked at you, half expecting some string of degrading words thrown at him. Instead you shushed him and took both of his hands in yours, starting to rock your hips back and forth.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” you say, earning a low moan from him as you kiss his hands.
“Stop—zzz—stop it,” Vox pleaded looking away from you. He didn’t know what to do with all the praise, but at the same time he desperately craved it from you.
“Why, sweetie? Don’t you think you deserve it?” you inquire, humping his cock slightly faster and leaning over too kiss up his body.
“N—no, no I—sskk—“ he buffers and whimpers when he feels your soft lips on his chest.
“So pretty for me,” you say, moving up towards his neck, “so pretty and good.”
He whimpers uselessly under the praise and makes a pathetic chocked noise when you bite down on the upper part of his shoulders.
“‘m not— bzz— ‘m not those th—hh—things,” he complained, whined slightly as you sought to suck on the bruises you left.
“Who told you that, baby? Because i’m looking at you right now and I think you’re the prettiest—“ you move to his upper neck and briefly bite down, “smartest, most amazing, person i’ve ever met.”
He whimpers and throws his head back, the praise did something to him. It contrasted so much with his normal bratty tone it made him wonder what prompted this.
He anxiously awaited more of your words, feeling his cock heat up in your pussy. He didn’t want to cum this early though, however your genuine words were making it hard.
You planted a kiss on the bottom of his screen and rocked your pussy down on his cock.
“Vox, baby, look at you. So impressive, so talented,” you dragged on, earning a glitched out moan from Vox.
“ohgodohgodoh—zzz—“ he whined pathetically, needing more praise.
As he felt his climax build up, his hands shot to the sides of his screen like they normally do, but this time you caught them.
You kiss all the way up his arm before pinning both of them down on the bed gently, but firmly. His legs shook from you, trying desperately to hold back his release.
“mommy— mo—tsk tsk—mommy, please,” his feet kicked out and he pathetically whined loudly for you, your touch, your words, anything.
You shush him and release one of his hands to caress his screen, “You want mommy to take care of you, baby?”
He nodded frantically. You smiled, you hadn’t even asked him to call you ‘mommy’ tonight, he simply did it. He must have really needed approval.
“My perfect boy,” you speed up on his cock, “My beautiful, amazing, good boy.”
He whimpered and arched his back up to you, squirming uselessly.
“You’re so amazing, so good for me,” You coo down at him, humping his dick slightly harder now, “Mommy’s so proud of you. I’m so proud of you, Vox.”
He moaned and threw his head back in the pillows, releasing all sorts of pathetic noises, whimpers and sobs. He was so close to fucking short circuiting under all of your validation.
Despite you being able to hear his moans and glitches, his face was only there every other second, other wise it was a screen that read ‘error.’
He squirmed beneath you, bucked his hips up, chasing his orgasm, and finally, came.
He gazed up at you with tired eyes. You recognized that he was checked out for the night, and got off of him.
You kiss him on the top of his screen, “i’ll take care of everything, sweetie, just close your eyes.”
And he did, under your touch, he went to bed finally feeling appreciated.
a/n — so what’s funny is i got a soft aftercare with Vox request so i’ll be doing that after this
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#dom reader
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Restless Dreams
pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: leon gets home late after another hard day at work to you having some extra sweet dreams.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, fingering, somnophilia, wet dream
word count: 3.6k
a/n: hey everyone!! hope you all enjoy this :) i guess i've been into soft leon with somno lately idk LOL. i was kind of tired myself when writing/editing this, so forgive any errors pretty please. new divider from here. thank you for any comments and reblogs <3
tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus
“So what time do you think you’re gonna get here?” you ask before blowing on the drying polish that coats your nails.
“My shift finishes up at 12, and then I gotta file some reports. I’ll probably be done at 1, so not too long after that,” Leon explains through the phone. Despite his attempt to lay it out for you, there’s still a pause, one he came to recognize as your reaction of displeasure. A smile plays on his lips. “But you know the real answer is as soon as I can.”
You look down at your phone on your vanity, a pout forming on your face. Obviously, it wasn’t his fault he had to work so much now. He’d warned you when he started at the police station a few months ago, but it didn’t prepare you for how much you’d miss him.
It made you feel dumb, that nagging, achy feeling of longing in your chest. It wasn’t like he was off to war or something. You still saw him almost everyday. But more and more of his time was consumed by work now. Even when he was with you, he was often exhausted.
Sometimes all you could think about his new job was that he was your boyfriend, not theirs. You’d mentally scold yourself for being so immature when that happened, but the sentiment still lingered in your head.
“Ok…” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral. He hears the dejection in your tone though.
“Baby,” he coos in that voice that sent warmth through your spine and got you to agree with everything he said, “You know I’d rather be with you. I’m just new and have to take the time to learn. Plus, with the caseload and the number of officers here, they need me at the station.”
“I need you more,” you say. You try to pass it off as playfulness, but it comes from real feelings. Your heart was beginning to tense with resentment for the RPD for taking him away so much. You knew the job meant a lot to him though which is why you would never unleash your admittedly petty frustrations.
A low laugh leaves him, and you can hear that loving smirk on his face as his voice comes through your phone’s speaker.
“Do you now? You’re really missing me that much?” he teases, leaning back in the driver’s seat of his cruiser.
He knew that you did in fact miss him that much. And even though, since starting at the police station, he tried to project the image of a tough guy, he missed you just as much. That’s why he started calling you during lulls in his shift.
“Mhm. It’s not fair. It’s like I’m sharing you with the station. And I don’t like sharing,” you say with an exaggerated huff.
“Oh, I know you don’t,” he chuckles. He sighs happily, checking the time to calculate how much time was left before he could have you in his arms again. “But not much longer, baby. Then you get me all to yourself for the whole weekend.”
“I better,” you grumble with a smile.
“I promise you will,” he says genuinely. A light on his dashboard flickers, alerting him that his attention is needed elsewhere. “Just don’t stay up too late waiting for me tonight, ok? Your rest is important.”
“Seeing you is more important,” you respond.
“I know, but I prefer my girl when she’s not all cranky and sleep deprived. So try tonight, sweetheart. For me?” he asks.
“I guess,” you concede. Your heart already aches, knowing he’s about to hang up.
“I love you, baby,” he says softly, “I’ll see you later.”
“I love you too,” you tell him before he disconnects the call.
The silence that falls over your room makes it feel even more empty. You tap the glass screen of your phone, scanning for the time before you finish getting ready for bed. Your mouth curves downward when the numbers light up on the screen.
Only 10:30. Too much time till you’ll hear him come through your front door, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. You haphazardly go through the rest of your routine before dragging yourself over to your bed and getting in.
Sliding between the soft pink sheets, you flop down against your pillow and stare at the ceiling as you contemplate how to kill the time. Nothing grabs your interest because none of it’s him. It’s all just filler.
And worst of all, you were starting to feel sleepy. You wanted to wait up for Leon so badly, but you also went through a whole day of your own that tired you out. Plus, your bed was just so comfy with your plush blankets and full pillows, stuffed animals and frilly decorative cushions scattered on one side.
Thinking it would help to keep your eyes actively focused on something, you try to read. Your eyes scan over the words, and it isn’t long before you realize you’d made a horrible mistake. Moving your eyes along the page only made them more drowsy.
Next you turn on the tv and put on something you didn’t really have to pay attention to. But the soft glow of the tv casts across you and the low chatter of the characters becomes background noise, making it even harder for you to keep your eyes open.
You lazily reach across your bed and grab the bunny stuffie Leon had bought for you a few weeks prior. Tucking it beneath your chin and close to your chest, your drooping eyes fall shut and your breaths become soft and even. Barely any time has gone by before you’re sinking into slumber.
Leon glances down at his phone, the small numbers illuminating 2:04 in the darkness of the hallway. He enters your place with the key you gave him and shuts the door as quietly as possible. He knows you’re sleeping from seeing the dark bedroom. Already feeling guilty for taking longer than he’d expected, he didn’t want to add to that feeling by waking you up.
He makes his way to your room, padding silently down the hall. Once he reaches the door, he pushes it open with almost no force in an attempt to avoid even the slightest creak. You’re where he expected you to be, curled up in your bed, completely peaceful as you slept. He knew he probably looked like a little lovesick puppy right about now, eager to hop into bed and snuggle up to your side, but he didn’t care.
It takes him no time to shed his police uniform. He makes quick work of unlacing his boots and kicking them off. His pants and shirt crumple up at the foot of your bed next to his belt and socks. Finally, once he’s got on a pair of sweatpants he kept at your place, he climbs into bed with you.
He shoves your stuffies and extra pillows out of his way with a playful roll of his eyes and gets as close to you as he can. His arm drapes over you, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, planting a few kisses on the base of your head. You smelled so good, felt so soft, perfect to come home to.
His body melts into the mattress, and he’s ready to give into his own urges to sleep. That is until he notices you’re not as peaceful as you appeared from the doorway. His eyebrows raise as he feels your legs squirming. Restless movements from your feet beneath the covers and your thighs shifting aimlessly against each other.
He’s ready to brush it off at first. ‘Must just be having some wild dreams,’ he thinks with another kiss to your head. But then he hears the faintest sound, so quiet that he probably would have missed it had he been focused on anything else. It’s a whimper. A gentle, tender squeak that slips from between your lips into the cool air of your bedroom.
Now, his face conveys his concern. He worries you’re having a nightmare. That at any moment you’ll wake up with tears in your eyes and your heart pounding out of your chest. Immediately, he begins stroking your arm, kissing your temple, murmuring “It’s ok, baby. I’m here.”
But you make that little noise again, and this time it paints a different picture in Leon’s head. This whimper didn’t sound scared or stressed, like you were crying out for his protection. No, this sound brought to mind images of you writhing beneath him, nails marking his biceps with small crescents as he pumped himself in and out of you.
He shakes his head because that couldn’t be it. That’s just his horny mind creating things that aren’t there from being so pent up.
At least that’s what he tells himself until you make the noise again. It brings the same memories up, but this time he’s even more sure of it. He lifts his head off of yours to look down at you and try to figure out what to do next.
You look so cute, brows slightly furrowed, lips parted. As he brushes some hair from your face, he notices your fingers clutching your stuffed rabbit a little tighter. Your breath hitches for a moment before you let out a soft, sleepy whine of his name.
It’s unmistakable now what’s going on. He smirks and traces a finger over your lips. The pad of his index finger drags on your bottom lip slightly, turning your mouth into that pout he loved so much. He leans and kisses your cheek as you whine again.
“Please.”
He chuckles at how needy you sound even in your sleep, but at the same time, your voice has blood rushing to his cock while his head swirls with desire. He shifts his own hips, subtly pressing his erection against your ass. His eyes flutter at the minute pleasure. He grows more bold, and his hand rubs your hip before coasting up your side to your chest, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.
You whimper louder and squirm. He squeezes again softly while lowering his head to your neck to lay some tender kisses on the side of your throat. His palm leaves your tits and smooths down over your tummy in the direction of your shorts.
Cautiously, he maneuvers his hand past the waistband and dips into your panties. He cups your pussy, feeling the heat radiating off the area. A single finger slides between your folds in almost an exploratory touch. He feels your slick all over his digit. Clearly, this dream was a pretty good one.
He begins to use another finger, sliding the two up and down through your wetness. You roll onto your back, your breasts rising and falling as your breath gets heavier. Your thighs spread a little as if you subconsciously sensed his presence between your legs.
In your dreams, Leon was doing a lot more than rubbing you with his fingers. After you had fallen asleep, it felt like no time had passed. All of the sudden you were just on the table in your dining room, spread out for his rapture.
You didn’t realize you were dreaming, everything felt so real. To you, he was really there, looking down at you with those loving yet lecherous eyes. Hands roaming your exposed body, lips caressing your skin all over. Everything seemed light and airy while also feeling heavy and thick. Your head, filled with clouds, slipped in and out of the moment. The sensation of him rutting his cock between your thighs and sliding inside of you was your reality at the moment.
In actual reality, Leon continues to move his fingers slowly, swiping them over your entrance and taking them back up to circle your clit. You mewl when he applies some pressure, sending sparks through you. Your squirming becomes more motivated, and he can tell your drifting away from your restful sleep back toward consciousness.
“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice huskier with arousal this time around.
You hear his voice in your dreams. The deep rumble enters your ears as you envision his hips pistoning into your wanting cunt. You mumble something in response, but he can’t understand the sleepy babbling. He rubs your clit a little harder with some more speed. You twitch in response, yet your eyes remain closed.
“I know, baby. I know it feels so good,” he coos and kisses behind your ear.
More incoherent words fall from your mouth. He sucks love bites into your neck, and you tilt your head back, craving more of that feeling. The dream version of him began mimicking the actions of the real Leon as you neared waking.
Whining louder, your fingers dig into the smooth fur of your plush bunny before letting it go. He nips at the sensitive skin of your throat as his fingers travel down and push inside your heat.
The feeling rips a moan from you and causes your eyes to open. Your back arches as he works them deeper. Your hips wriggle a little as you make sense of what’s happening.
“Leon?” you whimper. Your sleepy eyes struggle to stay open after being torn from the fog of sleep.
“That’s right, baby. It’s just me. You were having some nice dreams, weren’t you, pretty girl?” he says.
“Mhm,” you hum mindlessly.
“About me?” he teases, eyes watching your body fidget with the pleasure you felt.
“About you,” you confirm before he leans down and kisses your lips. They were so soft against his own. He slowly moves his mouth with yours and languidly slides his tongue against yours.
You moan into the kiss as his fingers curl within you and hit your favorite spot. Your feet lightly kick at the sensation. Your hips rise a little as you feel the flood gates holding your release about to break.
You’re too sleepy to tell him out right, but he knows the signs. He keeps working you there until your body seizes and arches off the bed. You let out a throaty moan and turn your head to bury your face against his shoulder.
“There you go. Let it all out, sweetheart,” he whispers and kisses your head.
You ride out the high on his hand, and by the time you’re done, you’re ready to fall asleep again. Your mind is hazy with the fog of release. You’re drifting off as your body settles without even realizing it.
You’re only yanked back to reality by Leon scooping you up into his lap. He’s sitting with his back to the headboard, and he situates you between his thighs, back against his chest. His arms keep you caged in nice and close, safe and warm.
“Don’t fall asleep again just yet, babydoll,” he murmurs while kissing up your neck.
Your head lolls back against his shoulder. The fight to stay awake gets a little easier as his hand returns to your soaked panties. He doesn’t tease this time, just slides in two fingers and starts moving them in and out.
The new angle makes you squirm and whine, but he holds you tight in place with his free arm.
“Gotta work you open, honey. Can’t just slide my dick in you with no warm up,” he says with a smirk.
His voice pulls you towards lucidity a little more. Your hands wrap around his free arm for support while your hips instinctively roll into his blissful touch.
“I missed you,” you choke out between gasps and whimpers.
“I know you did,” he teases, grinning against your throat. His cock throbs against the small of your back as his ears latch onto the sound of your slick around his fingers. “Came home to cuddle with my sweet girl, and I find her having such dirty dreams.”
Your cheeks heat up as you start to piece together what had happened. You fully realize now that your escapade on the kitchen table was entirely in your mind. You feel embarrassed for a moment, but the feeling dies pretty quick as you rapidly approach the edge for a second time.
“Not my fault,” you whimper shyly.
He chuckles and kisses your temple once more. “I know it’s not. If anything, it’s mine. I think I’ve been neglecting my baby,” he says with a mocking lilt in his voice.
You cry out as his fingers brush against those same spots that brought you to the finish last time. Your hips twitch, and you grip his thighs as your peak rises within you. Moments later your cumming all over his fingers, sucking in a harsh breath as a second release courses through you, even more intense then the last.
His free arm keeps you secure against his chest while rubbing your side soothingly. The heel of his other palm roughly massages your clit as his fingers pump in and out.
“Good girl,” he coos, “That’s it, just one more and then I can put you to sleep how you deserve.”
As soon as you seem to be coming down, Leon lifts you up again, tugging your clothes off and moving your body around like a doll to get you in the position he wants. You were definitely more pliant after two orgasms, but you could also see how his training had been paying off. Maybe this new job wasn’t all bad.
He has you on your back now, thighs against your chest and knees hooked over his arms. Again, he had no patience to tease right now, so after pushing his sweats down to mid thigh, he takes his cock and slides it in you with no hesitation. He groans as your hole takes him in, your walls pulsing around him even after he bottoms out.
“So wet. I can just slide right in,” he mumbles as his own hips twitch.
Your eyes droop at the stretch. It always felt so satisfying, having him buried balls deep in you. As close as he could possibly be. No fear of him leaving or pain of being separated. You whine and reach up to pull him closer.
He follows along and rests his face against your neck as he begins thrusting. You hear him panting right in your ear. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there’ll be marks.
“Perfect pussy’s made for me,” he grunts while snapping his hips, “Miss it every second I’m not inside it.”
You nod lazily as you continue to clamp down around him. After two releases, you didn’t even feel a building ecstasy anymore, just a constant stream of pleasure.
“Leon,” you whine, “Harder. Wanna feel it.”
He moans at your plea but indulges you, grabbing you harder, pressing your legs higher, filling you deeper.
“Wanna be sore after, don’t you, sweetheart? Want a reminder of me while I’m at work. Something to tide you over till I can do this again. Won’t have to rely on dreams then, right?” he says.
“Yeah,” you whimper. Your bed creaks as he picks up the pace, but your moans mask the sound as they grow in volume.
He fucks into you over and over, stoking the flames within himself, trying to build to that explosion. You were so tight, so warm. He hums another low moan and whimpers softly as he feels it right there. He gasps softly before holding you tighter and muttering in your ear.
“Ready for another one, honey? Gonna be the last one and then we’ll get you comfy and off to sleep.”
“Yeah,” you moan again, unable to say much else.
“Good… good girl,” he moans before his hips buck wildly and he finally releases.
You finish for a third time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you. You feel the hot flood of cum he fucks into you. His chest is heaving now too as he recovers from the high.
He stays on top of you for a moment before pulling out. You cling harder upon losing that full feeling. He smiles at your desire to be close to him and gives you one more kiss before sitting up.
“So sweet to me, baby. I hope that made up for the late night,” he whispers and strokes your hair.
“It did,” you say with a nod. Your eyes were already shutting again, ready to go back to sleep after being fucked so good.
He looks at you with all the love in the world as he pulls his sweats up. He then helps you pull your panties and shirt back on, trying to laugh at your sleepy, half-assed movements.
After that, he gets you all tucked in next to him, snuggled up in his arms like he originally intended. He even grabs that stuffed bunny he got you and fits it close to you in case you want it.
“Get some rest, honey. You need it,” he whispers while rubbing your back.
“Mhm,” you respond tiredly, “You too. You’re all mine for the weekend, and I don’t want you tired out the whole time.”
“Alright, but I’m gonna be tired out if we do some more of that again tomorrow,” he jokes. He pulls you close to him and shuts his eyes, nestling his head against yours and settling in to rest.
That puts a smile on your face and you nuzzle him once more before letting yourself fall asleep for the night.
#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x you#resident evil imagines#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy imagine#resident evil smut#smut
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GameStop
Summary: Mall Rats 4! (Can be read alone or, catch up with the mallrats in my masterlist) Joel tells you not to fuck with the Nintendo he stole from GameStop. His one rule. You fuck with it. That’s okay, though. Joel makes you play Mario with his fingers knuckle deep inside you.
Warnings: JOEL IS WEARING GRAY SWEATPANTS THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL🚨‼️ fingering, teasing, edging, orgasm denial blowjobs, unprotected piv, creampie, jjoel is so tender and such a dick, arguing, inglewood up to no good, domestic moments, minor injuries, when will these two fucking kiss!?? Idk
W/C: 4.6k
A/N: thank you very much @papipascalispunk i appreciate you taking the time to edit this. I love you so much. did you know that? And everyone else, do you know how much I love y’all for reading and engaging? I do. In case you didn’t know already 🥰
Joel stands in front of your house early afternoon on Saturday, a box of cords and plastic in one hand as he urgently knocks on your door, “Open up,” he barks, “This shit’s heavy.”
“Fuck,” you groan, walking up to your front door wearing nothing but an ill-fitting t-shirt and some old boxers. You can see Joel waiting impatiently through the window. You open the door and squint at Joel, the daylight too bright for your eyes, “What do you want, Joel?”
“Need to use your TV,” he demands, stepping inside your home and placing a hand on your hip to move you aside, “Move.”
“Why?”, you resist.
Joel motions toward his box with an annoyed expression on his face and your eyes light up. “Oh yeah,” you say, leading Joel to your living room where he sits in front of your old and boxy television, flipping up panels and tinkering with buttons before plugging in cords, “Can I play too? Will you show me how?”
“If you listen to me, maybe,” Joel mumbles as he’s setting up the console before turning to you, “Are you gonna be good and listen to me?”
“Of course not,” you smirk.
“Figures.”
You didn’t listen yesterday, either. You never do.
-
Something had caught your eye and you went ahead of Joel, something he absolutely hates. He tells you your place is next to him or behind him. He leads. You follow.
“Would you quit fuckin’ wanderin’, Inglewood?”, Joel hissed at you in the second level of the mall, “I give ya an inch, ya take a mile.”
You rolled your eyes, “Why do you call me that?”
“Cause you’re always up to no good.”
“I don’t understand that reference.”
“I know you don’t,” Joel sighed.
An odd clicking noise startled you both. It wasn’t quite that signature sound of a clicker, but it was enough to set you both off. You turned to Joel with wide eyes, and he reflexively pulled you close, one hand over your mouth and his other arm wrapped around your waist. Behind me, he mouthed.
You nodded and took your place behind Joel, heart pounding in your chest. He walked forward slowly before stopping, pulling out his gun and his flashlight. In front of him was a dark silhouetted figure, something he couldn’t quite make out. It stood in front of a store with a broken sign, white and red glass lettering shattered. As he tiptoed closer with you following close behind, his eyes began to piece more things together. The figure was unmoving, and upon closer inspection it looked to be wearing almost…tactical gear? Was it FEDRA? He wondered what the clicking noise was. Probably just the mall deteriorating. If there were infected in the mall, they would have shown themselves by this point.
The figure stayed still, unmoving. Finally, Joel saw it. On the figure’s chest read, ‘Call of Duty: Out October 29, 2003’. Joel let out a breath of relief and put his gun down, “False alarm,” he said. “Wait.”
“What is it, Joel?”, you asked as he took quick steps toward the unmarked store. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “Get your ass over here. Follow me. First good thing in this godforsaken mall. Do you know what this is?”
“You know I don’t know what this is.”
Joel explained that it was a GameStop. They used to sell video games and stuff, had all sorts of fun things. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, stealing consoles and cartridges and gushing about how much he loved these games long ago.
When you and Joel had returned from the mall, he practically sprinted into Ellie’s room, setting up their shared TV with a PlayStation and introducing her to some games. Ellie was ecstatic, and Joel knew she and the TV would be inseparable.
-
Which leads him here, to your house, in front of your TV.
“So I take it Ellie’s excited about the games and stuff you got her?”, you ask amused.
Joel fumbles with a controller to a Nintendo Entertainment System. “Big time,” he says. “They’re attached at the hip. So I’m commandeering your TV for today.”
“You could’ve asked, you know,” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you, asshole.”
“Don’t need you to give me nothin’. Just here to use your TV for a bit,” as he draws the curtains in your room, turns on your TV and adjusts the input, then sits back on your couch, legs outstretched on your coffee table, “It’s more fun when I take it from ya, anyway.”
You wonder if Joel gets physically ill at the thought of being polite, being kind to you. Nothing’s ever easy with him. He’s always ready to argue, ready to instigate. You roll your eyes, then leave Joel to take a shower and get dressed. You’re not sure what you were planning on doing on this Saturday, but video games with Joel seems to be your fate.
By the time you have showered, Joel has already been playing for nearly 2 hours. You dress yourself in some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie, expecting to hunker down in front of the TV with Joel all day. You can hear the soft music from the video game from your room and Joel’s strings of expletives, or his cheers, depending on what’s happening in the game. You make a couple of sandwiches, some sliced apples, and pour a couple of glasses of water before you greet Joel in the living room. Standing in front of the TV, you watch as Joel tries to continue playing. There’s a little guy wearing a red hat, jumping over blocks and stomping on mushrooms. He makes a cute little ‘boing’ noise when he jumps, and the music playing in the background is playful, melodic.
“Sweetheart, y’make a better door than a window. Get out of the way,” he gruffs. Joel’s got some fucking nerve today. He could have just kindly asked you to move. Tauntingly, you wiggle your ass in front of him, so he reaches over the coffee table and smacks it, “What’d I say about listening? Do you wanna play the game or not?” With Joel’s eyes still transfixed on the TV in front of you, you sit down next to him and place your two plates on the coffee table. “Everyday it’s somethin’ with you. Always tryin’ to get under my skin, always-”, Joel’s voice trails off as he glances at his plate, “Did you make me a sandwich?”
You shrug, “You’re extra cranky today. Figured you could use a snack.”
“I’m not cranky,” Joel argues, “And I don’t need you makin’ me any snacks. Can make my own food.”
“Okay,” you say, eating your own food, “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna shove it down your throat.”
Joel stays focused on his game until he hears the crunch of you biting into a slice of apple. “Wait, are those apple slices?”, he asks in a low tone.
“Mhm.”
“You didn’t happen to cut any up for me, did you?”
“I did. Sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top,” you smile proudly.
You watch Joel grumble to himself and play the game silently until he beats the level he’s on, then he pauses the game and sets his controller down. He picks up his plate of food and eats a couple of apple slices before inspecting his sandwich, “Did you poison this?”
“No, not the sandwich. The apples, yes. Don’t you taste the rat poison?”
Joel rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich, “Gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart. Up the dose next time. Tasty sandwich, though.”
“Noted,” you smile. Joel smiles too, almost imperceptibly, but you see it, the sparkle in his eyes and the way his face lit up when you told him you sliced up some apples for him too.
“Tell me about your game.”
Joel raises an eyebrow, “It’s Mario. You don’t know Mario?”, and you shake your head no. “Jesus…you age me,” Joel takes another bite of his sandwich before continuing, “Mario’s a video game. Super Mario Brothers. He has a brother, Luigi. They’re plumbers and they fight Bowser to save Princess Peach. So that’s what I’m doin’ here,” Joel motions to the TV, “Savin’ Peach. Eventually.”
“Is it hard?”, you ask.
“Kinda. Haven’t played in forever. But Tommy and I’d play all the time. Were always fightin’ over the damn Nintendo,” Joel chuckles, “Drove Mom fuckin’ nuts.”
“Maybe we should invite him over then,” you muse.
“Nah,” Joel says, “Just me and you today.”
You smile, “Just us?”
Joel nods, finishing the last of his sandwich and his apple slices, “Unfortunately.” He stretches his legs and his arms out long, then rubs his soft belly with a groan. “You’re trouble,” he tells you, “Tryna’ make me fat. I’m gonna go home and change into something cozier - jeans are fuckin’ tight.”
“Bet I could make them tighter,” you bite your lip and nudge his thigh.
“That’s a nice offer. You’re a charmer, Inglewood. Maybe later.” You huff as Joel picks up both of your plates and walks them to your kitchen sink, scrubbing and drying each one before pulling on his jacket. He walks back over to where you sit on the couch and points to the TV and his Nintendo, “Do not touch this,” he says, “It doesn’t have a memory card. So if you fuck with it, my progress is gone. Don’t unplug nothin’, don’t touch the TV, don’t–”.
“What if I–”.
Joel doesn’t let you get another word out, “Nope. Don’t do that either. Just leave it be, sit pretty and behave yourself. I’ll be back soon.”
You scoff and cross your arms as Joel leaves while staring at the paused screen of Joel’s game, then flicker your eyes lower to the controller Joel left on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything about playing the game. What’s the worst that could happen?
You reach for the controller and begin messing with the buttons, playing with the D-pad until the screen changes and you press ‘Start Game’.
The game starts. It catches you off guard. You fumble with the buttons until you figure out how to make Mario move, how to make him jump. A couple times you hit an angry looking mushroom and he dies. You snicker to yourself. Figures. Before you know it, you’ve passed Level 1-1 and you’re onto Level 1-2.
Level 1-2 comes and goes, and then Joel’s back at your door. You pause the game as he lets himself in. You wear a mischievous smile when you see him in his gray sweats and a t-shirt – your weakness. You can see the outline of his dick in those pants, and it sends a pang of arousal to your core. “Well don’t you look handsome,” you purr.
“Pipe down, horndog,” Joel sits down on the couch next to you. Before he can reach for the controller, you slide your hand over one of his thick thighs and palm his bulge, then slip your hand under the waistband of his pants and play with his cock. He sighs as you stroke him, his sweet sounds getting you all hot and bothered. His cock is thick and warm, half hard and growing harder, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. “Later,” he reminds you, “C’mon. I know you can wait. I don’t have much of the game left to play.”
“Okay,” you mumble. You scoot closer to Joel as he picks up the controller, wrapping your arm around his and resting your head on his bicep. You squeeze your thighs together tightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure at your core. He tries to shake you off of him, but you don’t budge. “I’m cold, Joel,” you protest.
“So get a blanket. I ain’t your heater,” he complains, but you feel him relax with your touch, snuggling up to you a little closer like maybe he’s cold too, “God, you make me nuts.”
You say nothing as Joel reaches for the controller, presses a couple buttons before the game starts again. He starts playing, then squints and furrows his brows. “Woah, woah, woah,” he says, “This ain’t right. What - why - what happened? Did you touch this? Tell me you didn’t touch this.”
“I didn’t touch it,” you lie.
Joel turns to you and glares, “What. Did. You. Do.”
“I tried out your game,” Joel continues glaring at you and you raise your arms in surrender, “What?”
Joel cups your cheeks in both of his big hands and shakes your head gently, “Why would you do that?”
“You told me not to unplug anything. I didn’t unplug anything.”
“I also told you not to touch anything,” Joel groans, “Do you know how long it took me to beat those levels?”
“Just pick up where you left off, Joel.”
“I told ya, it doesn't work like that. No memory card, no progress. I have to start over now,” Joel whines, “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
“Beats me,” you say, “But–”, you take one of Joel’s hands from his controller and suck his fingers before slipping it under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Now we can get down to brass tacks. Hmm?”
“One rule,” Joel hisses as cups your mound, “I gave you one fuckin’ rule.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But now that you’re not playing Mario anymore, you can make me come. And then I’ll make you come. And you’ll forget you were ever mad at me.”
Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to you, his eyes now mischievously lit up. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m not playing Mario anymore. You are.” He places the controller in your hands, “I told you I wanted to beat the game, and mayb then I’d fuck ya. So now you’re gonna get me back to where I was so I’ll finish up the game, and maybe, maybe after that, I’ll fuck you. Cause I’m not doin’ all of this again. I’ve got other games I wanna play too.”
“Piece of cake,” you reply confidently. Though really, playing Mario is harder than it looks.
“Oh, really? Is it that easy?”, Joel says, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your confidence as you nod, “If ya say so. I thought you said it’s harder than it looks. Whatever. Go on, then.” Situating yourself next to Joel, you adjust your grip on the controller. Joel’s hand is still beneath your pants, fingers resting against your lips. You look at him, wondering if he’ll pull his hand away. “You put it there,” he says. “It’s stayin’.”
Whatever. You start the game feeling confident in yourself, and then Mario hits a mushroom and he shrinks. And then he hits another mushroom, and he dies. Joel hums in amusement and you shove your elbow into his side. “I didn’t say anything,” he smirks.
It takes you about ten minutes to get the hang of it, but eventually you do. When you start a new level, Joel presses two of his fingers against your pussy and it startles you. Mario hits a turtle and he shrinks again. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”
Dragging his fingers up and down your folds at a leisurely pace, Joel shrugs, “Nothin’.” He’s definitely not doing “nothing”. It’s getting harder to focus now, and you’re making mistakes, getting hit by enemies, missing those little mushroom power ups that come at you every so often. You huff in frustration, and Joel chuckles to himself, “You suck, sweetheart.”
“Shut up, Joel.”
He presses the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, pushes inside before pulling his finger back out and dragging it up to your clit, smirking when your breath hitches in your throat, “Do you need some help? Pointers, maybe?”
“No,” you grit, “Shut up, Joel.”
“Hmm, alright,” he hums, his thick fingers now circling your sensitive bud. You can feel his intense gaze on you as you play the game, squashing Mario’s enemies to the best of your ability, but you were right the first time, it’s harder than it looks. Joel turns his attention back to the TV, “Hit that box with the question mark.” You raise your eyebrow in suspicion. It’s probably a trap. With Joel, it’s always a trap. “Watch what happens,” he instructs, so you hit the box and a flower emerges. Joel tells you to jump on it, so you do. Warily, though. Mario changes outfits. “There you go. Now if you press B,” he taps the other button on the controller, “You can shoot those guys with a fireball. Try it out.”
Mario does in fact shoot fireballs at the enemies. This advantage makes the game come along smoother, so Joel ups the ante, drawing tight circles into your clit. “Joel,” you moan, “Quit it. You’re distracting me.”
“Thought you wanted me to make you come,” Joel taunts.
“I do, but not like thi–fuck–Joel, stop.”
“Tough luck,” Joel responds, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
You do your best to ignore the sensation of Joel touching you, but it’s hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to touch you to make you squirm and moan for him. You have to fight yourself to keep your eyes from rolling back when Joel pushes two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out for a moment before abruptly curling them upward, hitting that sweet spot he knows and loves. “Jesus, Joel,” you moan, accidentally pressing the lower end of the D-pad. On the TV, Mario slides down a pipe and is brought to a new area. He’s able to run across the top of the screen, then finds an area with a bunch of pipes called the Warp Zone. This changes the game. You’re able to skip levels, making this whole thing go by even quicker. You’ll be on your way to fuck town in no time.
“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna figure that out,” Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he fucks you with his two middle and ring fingers. You’re able to find a couple more pipes that allow you to go to Warp Zones, which doesn’t require quite as much focus on the screen. You allow yourself to savor the way Joel touches you, that warmth building up in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moan. That familiar edge begins to creep up just as you’re finishing another level. Your breathing quickens, your pussy dripping and gushing with every movement of Joel’s thick fingers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”.
“Thanks sweetheart. That was a big help,” Joel yanks the controller from you with his free hand, then pulls the other away from your core. Now that you’ve gotten him to where he left off in the game, he focuses all of his attention on the TV, as if he was never touching you.
“Are you serious?”, you’re in disbelief but Joel doesn’t answer, “Joel, I was about to–”.
“I know.”
You scoff, “Fuck you, man.”
“Yeah, I know you wanna. But I told you, you gotta wait til I’m done. You’re very forgetful, you know that?”
Frustrated, you shove your hand under your sweats and pick up where Joel left off. He clears his throat, “You can play with your pussy, or I can. Pick one but we’re not doin’ both. It’s up to you.”
Jesus fucking Christ. This is bullshit. Joel can take control of your TV, but not your pleasure. You watch him in astonishment, how he pays you no mind as he plays the game. His eyes are glazed over and his lips slightly parted, deep in focus. It’s like you’re not even there. You lower your eyes from his face to his lap where his fingers move deftly, still slick and shiny with your juices. His thumbs dart back and forth over the D-pad and the buttons, and you wish he was still touching you like that. Expertly, with dedication and precision. And then it catches your eye – the tent in his sweatpants, that little spot of dampness where his head rests against the fabric. He’s fucking rock hard from playing with you, leaking precome. You’re impressed with Joel’s ability to ignore his own arousal. Good for him. You, however, won’t ignore it.
In a swift maneuver, too quick for Joel to even process, you pull down his sweats and let his cock spring free, setting the waistband under his heavy balls. You don’t even think, you just do it – lifting up his arm, you dive under and grip the base of his cock. You guide his tip to your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen head before letting it part your lips. Joel groans, “Think you can play dirty too, huh?”
“Mhm,” you mumble against him.
“Knock yourself out,” he tells you, “You’re forgettin’ I have something you don’t – self control, my darlin’.”
You don’t care. This is more for you than it is for him, anyway. You haven’t gotten to taste him yet and it’s been on your mind. He tastes heady, salty, and slightly sweaty on your tongue. He’s warm and thick, you like the way his cock feels in your mouth. His smooth skin, how he squirms when you slide his cock to the back of your throat.
Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand gripping his base, the other fondling his balls. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He rests the sides of his hands on your head as he plays with the controller, pushing you further down on his cock. “Last level,” he tells you. You suck him mindlessly as he plays, listening to Joel hissing expletives. You smirk with him in your mouth knowing which of his curses are directed at you and which are directed at the TV.
Joel’s cock stiffens and twitches, he’s getting closer. You know it and so does he. “You know,” he says in a soft, warning tone, “If ya make me come, you’re shit outta luck. Can’t fuck you.”
Oh, shit. You weren’t even thinking about that. You pull your mouth off of him instantaneously, smacking your head against his controller and sending it flying out of his hands. “Fuck,” Joel barks.
The controller lands upside down on the corner of your coffee table, the buttons hitting the edge just so, and Joel watches in horror as Mario disappears from the TV and is replaced by the main menu.
You rub your head where you hit it on the controller, but Joel is no longer staring at the TV in disbelief. Instead, he’s looking at you. “Shit. I’m sorry, Joel,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”
You expect Joel to be angry like usual, but he instead pulls your hand away from your scalp, lowers you so he can check the area you hit and give it a kiss, then lifts your chin back up while rubbing your bump. “It was an accident,” he speaks soothingly, “Mario can wait. Are you hurting?”
“Not terribly,” you tell him. And it’s the truth.
“No? You sure?” You shake your head no and Joel nods. He rubs your head for a little bit longer, his big brown eyes are soft and sweet and worrisome. The kindest he’s ever looked at you, kindest he’s ever been to you. And all you had to do was smack your head on his video game. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, then pulls you close and whispers quietly, “Would you still like me to fuck you? We don’t have to if you’re not up for it anymore.”
You grin and nod your head, “Yes, please. I want it.”
“Get your ass over here, then,” Joel says as he lifts your hips and pulls your pants off, then pulls his own further down his thighs. He guides you to straddle his lap, holding his cock loosely between his middle and index fingers and his thumb. He drags his tip through your folds, then notches himself at your entrance before pulling your hips down, burying himself in you all the way to the hilt.
You grip his shoulders and press your forehead to his own, sighing softly as you get adjusted to his girth. “I missed your cock,” you breathe, “Missed it so much.”
“I know you did, sweetheart. I missed you too.”
When you’ve adjusted, you begin to roll your hips, rubbing your clit against that soft patch of hair at the base of his cock, moaning and grunting softly, “Oh, Joel. Feels good.”
“I know it does,” he sighs as he leans forward to lift up your shirt and pulls it off of your body, then takes off his own, “That’s better.” He runs his thumbs over the soft curve of your tummy, then slides his hands up your rib cage before cupping your breasts, twisting and rolling your nipples.
The way he looks at you makes your cheeks feel hot. You lean forward to hide your face, grinding your hips into him. He holds you close to his body with his hands wrapping around your back before gripping your ass and bouncing you up and down on him, stretching and parting your insides. You allow yourself to rest against him, letting him do the work and take care of you. His cock feels incredible. So thick, so hard, hitting against all of your favorite spots. “So good, takin’ me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, “Ya always do.”
Joel squeezes your ass tighter. He can see your reflection in the TV, loving the way your body moves, how you tremble, how you rock your hips, how you whimper his name. It’s all for him. “Wanna, fuck,” he sighs, snaking his hand between your bodies as he finds your clit with his fingertips, rubbing circles around it, “Wanna make you come on my cock. Make those pretty noises for me.”
With Joel’s cock hitting you right where you need him, his fingers playing with your clit, it’s not long before your orgasm approaches. “Right there, Joel. Like that, just like that,” you moan breathlessly, “I’m gonna come for you.”
“Yeah, gimme a good one,” he says. He fucks you expertly, each of his thrusts deep and intentional. It’s all for you. He just wants to watch you come, hear you moan his name, feel you soak his cock. Your breaths quicken and your moans quiet as you near your climax, and you come with loud cries and moans. Joel pulls you close, fucking you through it as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. “Fuck,” he hisses rocking his hips into you once, twice, three more times before he comes with a groan, painting your insides with rope after rope of his hot seed.
You fall forward, resting your face against the couch as you both catch your breath. He rests his head next to you, looking deep into your eyes before flicking his gaze to your lips, then back up to your eyes. You stare at his lips too.
“Your head still okay?” he asks, “Smacked it real good.”
“Think so.”
“Gonna keep an eye on it anyway,” Joel whispers, “What am I gonna do with you, Inglewood, hmm?”, bringing his hand to your face and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You’re still staring at his lips. His pink, pouting lips that have never kissed your own.
“I’m not sure,” you murmur, “What do you think?”
Joel runs his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting go, “Haven’t got a clue.”
Joel leaves you to grab a warm wash rag and clean you up, then helps you back into your clothes. He reaches for the controller and starts up Super Mario Brothers one more time, and you snuggle his bicep like before. This time, he doesn’t try to move you.
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[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier
paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader
summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made
warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)
author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)
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The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.
The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.
A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.
“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”
“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”
She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”
“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”
Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”
Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.
“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”
“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”
Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.
“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”
They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”
She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”
He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.
“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”
“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”
It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.
A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.
Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”
Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”
“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”
She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”
Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.
They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.
There is no way he means that.
“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.
“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”
Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”
Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”
He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”
With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.
“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”
She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.
She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.
It’s time to find out.
Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.
“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”
Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”
She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.
The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.
He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”
“And you’re sober?”
“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”
It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”
Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.
Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.
This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.
He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.
It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”
Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.
“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”
He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”
“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”
Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.
“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”
“I believe you now.”
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Dream Come True
Older!Eddie X Fem!Reader
credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the older eddie edit <3
Word Count: 2.8k
TW// 18+, age gap (reader is early 20s, Eddie is 50s), oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation, face slapping, creampie, let me know if i missed anything!!
It was your parents 25th wedding anniversary. They liked to make a big deal out of it every 5 years, throwing a big party and inviting as many people as they could. You never understood why they couldn’t just go out to dinner alone to celebrate instead of dragging you along to hang out with their old friends. But he made it all worth it.
Eddie Munson. Your dads friend from high school. He was kind of old sure, but he was damn sexy. He had the softest looking long curly brown hair, peppered with just the right amount of grey. The perfect amount of scruff around his face, messy yet neat at the same time. And his arms and chest littered with tattoos.
He played in a metal band that your dad was a part of shortly in college, until he decided he’d rather marry your mom and start a family. Bleh. You had watched all the videos of their shows when he was younger, and while you should’ve been impressed by your dads skills as a musician, you could never take your eyes off of Eddie.
He was still in the band, constantly in LA recording or touring the world. He always made time to visit you and your parents when he was back in Hawkins though. You hadn’t seen him in about 5 years, the last time being your high school graduation, when he could barely keep his eyes off of you. You thought since you were freshly 18 he would finally take you someplace to fuck you raw, but that might’ve just been wishful thinking.
In reality, he didn’t pay much attention to you when he visited. Nothing more than the usual “how have you been” or “how’s school going?”. But, that wasn’t going to stop you from continuing to try and get his attention.
You opted for a short black dress, probably showing a little more cleavage than you usually would, some high heeled boots, and a simple silver necklace. You were in the kitchen of the beach house your parents rented, fixing yourself a drink while you waited for the guests so trickle in.
“Honey, can you greet people at the door and take their coats?” You hear your mom call from the other room. You roll your eyes before taking a sip of your wine and making your way to the door.
You spend the next 30 minutes welcoming all of your parents friends, frustratingly having to answer the same questions over and over and using your best fake laugh to laugh at all of their dad jokes. You were just about ready to leave and scream in the bathroom until you saw the black mustang pull up. Eddie.
You fix you hair and push your boobs up a little more before he makes his way to the door. “Sweetheart.” He bows his head, making his way into the house.
“Eddie.” You do the same. You ask to take his jacket and hang it with the rest. You decide your door duty is over once Eddie arrives, following him into the house. “This is nice. Didn’t know your old man bought a new place.” He says looking around, taking in all the little details.
“Oh it’s not ours, they just rented it for the party. Always need to make a big deal out of their love.” You scoff.
Eddie chuckles, “Marriage is a big deal. You’ll find that out soon enough.”
“No thanks. Marriage is just a big money grab. Why can’t I just spend the rest of my life with the person I love without the governments involvement? Plus it’s harder to get divorced than it is to get married.” You respond.
“You’re a smart girl. What are you studying again?” He asks, genuinely interested.
“Psychology. I graduate in a couple months.” You smile proudly.
“Ah you gonna tug at my brain tonight?” He laughs.
This is your chance to make a move, you think to yourself. “I could tug at something else if you’d like.” You whisper, a smirk on your face.
Eddie coughs, clearing his throat. “Uh i’m gonna go say hi to your parents.” He practically runs away. You would’ve been embarrassed by your boldness if you hadn’t noticed the way his cheeks turned red and his legs shook at your words.
You take your place back in the kitchen, avoiding conversation with the large group of people. You hear footsteps behind you and turn to see Eddie grabbing a beer from the fridge.
“Can’t stand being out there any longer without at least one beer.” You chuckle, mumbling in agreement. “When did your parents become so prissy?”
“Oh you mean they haven’t always been like this?” You laugh. “Dad got a promotion a couple years ago so I guess he feels the need to impress them.”
“You should’ve seen him in college, when he was still in the band. He was wild.” Eddie laughs, recalling the memories.
“As wild as you?” You raise an eyebrow, cocking your head to the side.
Eddie’s cheeks turn red, “I’m not wild.”
“You expect me to believe that the man who’s been rocking girls panties off for the last 30 years isn’t a wild one?” You step closer to him, hearing how his breathing changes. “I’ve seen what those hands can do.”
“Hey… stop.” You know he only says it because he should, not that he really wants you to.
You wrap your hand around his neck, pulling his ear down to your mouth. “But i’m not wearing any panties.”
Eddie lets a soft moan escape his mouth before running off. “I need to use the restroom.” You’re left in the kitchen, giggling and smirking to yourself, waiting a couple minutes before following him.
You put your head up to the bathroom door, listening to him heavy breathing and muttering curse words under his breath. You open the door, locking it behind you.
“What the fuck?!” He whisper yells. “What are you doing?”
“Oh I thought that was an invitation. You know, tell the girl you’re going to the bathroom, she follows…” You jump up on the sink, spreading your legs a little wider. “And then the guy fucks her brains out on the sink.”
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, trying his best not to look you in the eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” You jump off the sink, pulling him towards you. “Don’t think I forgot about the way you were looking at my tits at my graduation party. Or the way your eyes immediately went down to my thighs when I greeted you tonight. You’re a dirty old man, and I want to be your filthy… little… girl.” Your words send shivers down his spine.
“Fuck it.” He growls before pressing his lips against yours. His hands immediately reach for your hips, his fingers digging into them sure to leave marks tomorrow. You wrap your arms around the back of his head, pulling on his hair. He lets out a moan, and you take the opportunity to dip your tongue into his mouth.
He taste just like how you imagined. A mix of tobacco and mint, followed with a slight flavor of the beer he just drank. He removes his mouth from yours, moving down your neck, sucking on that sweet spot just behind your ear. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing and slapping as he continues his assault on your neck.
You twirl your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into you as you feel the heat between your legs growing more and more intense. He backs you up until your back hits the sink, a whimper leaving your mouth. He lifts the bottom of your dress, exposing your naked cunt.
“Fuck. You weren’t lying.” You chuckle as he continues kissing and sucking your skin, moving further down your body. “You did this because you knew I was coming, huh? Or are you just that much of a whore?”
You moan at his words, loving the way he says it. “Oh you like that? Like when I call you a fucking whore?” You mumble an mm-hmm right as he reaches where you needed him the most. “God you have such a pretty pussy, baby. Mind if I have a little taste?”
“Please.” You whimper, and he dives right in. His tongue drags from your entrance, all the way up to your clit. “Fuck, Eddie.” You moan out as his tongue flicks back and forth.
He licks you up and down a few times before focusing on your clit. Attaching his mouth to your aching bud, and sucking it like it was his last meal. You couldn’t speak. It was like he took away your ability to form any kind of words. You’d never felt like this before, never gotten head like this before. He truly was a master, and not just when it came to music.
The filthy sounds of his tongue mixed with your own arousal was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You feel him bring his fingers up to your entrance, playing with it while gathering your wetness. He looks up at you, his mouth still on your cunt, looking for permission to keep going. You nod, and without another word he sinks two fingers into you.
“Oh my- fuck!” You scream out before bringing a hand to your mouth, not wanting to bring attention to what was happening in here. You feel him smile against your pussy, pushing his fingers in and out of you.
His fingers were thick enough, you had no idea how you were supposed to fit, what you assumed, was his even thicker cock. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, not relenting his attack on your clit. He moans into your pussy, sending even more vibrations of pleasure through you. He seemed to really enjoy eating your pussy. Maybe just as much as you were.
He starts to move his fingers faster, flicking his tongue across your clit searching for your orgasm. “Shit, Eddie- Eddie i’m gonna- fuck fuck fuck.” You can’t even make out a cognitive sentence with the pleasure you were feeling.
“Go ahead baby, cum for me. Cum on my face.” That was all you needed to hear before your legs were shaking, closing in on his head as yours was thrown back, cursing his name under your breath.
He keeps thrusting his fingers into you, softly to help you ride out your high. Once your breathing starts to regulate again, he pulls out, placing soft kisses on your thighs before moving up to your mouth. “You okay?” He asks, pecking your lips.
You nod, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Placing your hand on the crotch of his jeans, you can feel just how much he enjoyed that. You palm at his rock hard cock through his pants, while he moans above you into the kiss.
“Can I suck you off?” You ask, continuing to press into him.
“Not gonna last. I need to be inside of you.” He moans, shuffling his pants off as quickly as possible, and you realize that you didn’t have to assume his size anymore. He was big. The biggest you’ve ever seen. Thick too. If you had to picture the perfect dick, he had it.
“Jesus christ.” You mumble, earning a chuckle from him. He spits into his hand, stroking his cock to prepare himself.
“Can I see your tits?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls the straps of your dress off, nearly tearing them, and pushes the top of your dress down so that it’s sitting on your waist. “Oh my god, we’re you created by the gods or something?”
“I was created by your best friend.” You smirk, reminding him of who exactly he was about to fuck.
He groans, twisting his eyebrows up. “Don’t remind me.” He places his hands on your tits, rubbing and squeezing them in circles before catching one in his mouth.
You place your hand on the back of his head as he licks and sucks on your nipple, his hand playing with the other before switching places. Once he’s has enough, he steps back, grabbing onto his cock and sliding it up and down your folds.
“Ready?” He asks as you nod furiously. He slides just the tip in, testing the waters. You wince as he stretches you open. It hurts only for a moment, but the earlier tongue fucking definitely helped you get used to it quicker.
He pushes more of his length in, an inch at a time until his balls hit the back of your ass. “Shit you’re so fucking tight. Could bust right now.” He moans before pulling out slightly, and pushing back in.
You grab onto his biceps for leverage as he picks up the pace. You pull him closer to you, pushing his hair to one side while your lips find his neck. He groans at the feeling, grabbing the back of your neck as he rapidly begins thrusting in and out of you.
“Oh my god- that’s it, fuck. Feels so good.” You moan in his ear. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, along with each of your moans. He moves his hands down to your hips, using them to fuck you back into him.
“Who would’ve thought my best friends daughter would be such a filthy fucking whore? Sucking my cock into her pussy like this? God you feel so fucking good on my cock like this.” His words continue to egg you on. You can’t say anything other curse words followed by moans of pleasure as he fucks into you.
You start to feel your high approaching again, embarrassingly quick and he takes notice. He pulls your head into his, pressing your forehead against his. “You gonna cum for me again? Gonna drench my fat cock with your cum? Hmm, baby?” You moan in response, but it’s not enough for him. “Use your words, tell me how good i’m making you feel right now.”
You still can’t find the words, and that’s when you feel a sharp slap across your cheek. “Say. It.” He growls, his thrusts speeding up as his thumb takes place on your clit. He rubs perfect circles on your clit while awaiting a response before slapping his palm across your cheek once again. “What the fuck did I just tell you? Say it.”
“Feels so good Eddie. Love the way your cock fills my pussy, gonna make me cum- fuck!” Your body goes limp as your second orgasm crashes over you. Eddie picks you up by your ass, moving your body against the bathroom door.
“That’s right, dirty slut loves the way I feel inside of her.” His body is keeping you up against the door as he continues to fuck into you with a hurried speed, chasing his own high. “How would she feel if I filled her up with my cum?”
All you can muster is a moan, receiving another slap across the face. “Use your fucking words.”
“Yes please Eddie, fill me up. Cum in me. I wanna feel you, please please please.” The overstimulation is almost getting to be too much as you feel a tear slide down your face.
Although, it doesn’t last long as he gives you a couple more hard thrusts before you feel his seed coating your walls. “Fuuuck.” He moans out, his head falling into your neck.
He stills for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his own orgasm before lifting his head to kiss you. He wipes your tears away before slowly sliding out of you and placing you back on your feet.
“You’re something else.” He laughs, pulling his pants back up.
“So are you.” You smile, fixing your dress. “Who knew old dudes like you could fuck so good?”
He shoots you a look, making you giggle. “Don’t tell your parents about this.”
You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah let me just go down there and let them know their best friend just fucked the shit out of their daughter.” He laughs before exiting the bathroom and returning downstairs to the party.
You wait a couple minutes to follow him, not wanting to be suspected of anything. You make your way to your dad, hoping she didn’t notice that you and Eddie went missing.
“There you are honey. Oh what happened to your dress?” You look down, noticing the tear in your strap. You look over at Eddie, seeing the biggest smirk on his face as he sips his beer.
“Must’ve torn it this morning putting it on.” You respond, avoiding eye contact.
“Well you should go out a jacket on, make yourself look a little put together please.”
You sigh, walking away. “Yes daddy.”
You walk past Eddie as he grabs you arm, whispering in your ear. “Yes daddy.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson smut#older!eddie#older!eddie fic#older!eddie smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#older!eddie x reader#older!eddie x fem!reader
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the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)
AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.
summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!
pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader
word count: 1, 944 words
content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?
a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I haven’t written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3
You basked in the scent of Eddie’s bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.
You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didn’t realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.
“I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.
When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.
“And who said you could hold my favorite pillow?” He teased, sauntering over to the bed.
“I made it,” you scoffed with a smile.
He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.
You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.
“I think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,” you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.
His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.
“I worked very hard on it, y’know.”
Eddie let out an “Is that right?” kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.
“And it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons and—”
He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddie’s kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.
The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.
“Pillow was in the way,” he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.
“And here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.”
“Aw, now don’t be like that. You know that’s not true,” Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.
He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasn’t even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way your bodies fit together too, but he’d melt into you if he could.
Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head).
“I don’t think I believe you.”
You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.
“Well then, my dramatic lil lady,” He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.
“I suppose I must convince you.”
His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.
“You’re so corny,” you laughed against his lips.
“And you… taste like vanilla,” he sighed, laughing with you after.
“Mm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,” you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. “Speaking of…”
Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“You’re a child,” you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.
“And you’re devastating,” he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.
“Who knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,” you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.
“I believe you mean ‘the local freak.’”
“Mm, tomato, tomahto,” you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.
“We’re gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,” Eddie’s voice was rough even as he smiled over you.
“What?” you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. “No, what?”
“You know what.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.
“Wh— hey!”
You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.
“You’re gonna get your rings all sticky,”
You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.
“Not the only thing that—”
“Eddie, shu-u-ush,” you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.
Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one more—you swore just one more! —fingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.
“Gimme that—”
“So rude taking things from me today,” you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.
“Have to have you all to myself,” he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldn’t even get through it without chuckling at the end.
Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crocker’s then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.
He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.
“You never play fair.”
“And you like that,” you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.
“Course I do,” he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “May have taken a few attempts to graduate, but I’m not that dumb.”
Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmer—more determined—and desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things#eddiemunson#eddie munson imagine#stranger things x reader#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson ficlet#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#bf!eddie munson#the boy is mine eddie munson#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson smut
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One of those days
Parings: Step-mom!Wanda x fem!reader
warnings: none just fluff and wholesomeness :))
a/n: I felt sad and wanted to write something to take my mind off things, so I decided to write something short. I did not proofread this nor felt like editing it so if there are mistakes I'm so sorry, i wanted to post this for the people who also have bad days maybe this can help, I dunno lol. anyways back to girl rotting and what not, enjoy!! :D
Word count: 1.1k
“Malysh, I’m home!..” Wanda sat her bags down on the couch frowning, usually once she comes home you're running to her with open arms. Since your dad was on a business trip it left you with her. It’s been a couple of days and university had been kicking your ass.
mentally you weren't feeling the best, and it had been eating you away until today after class it broke you.
“Baby.. where are you?” She walked upstairs to your bedroom, only to find you curled up in the bed with the covers over your head.
“oh!! hi darling!!” her usual smile appeared on her face before uncovering your head, finding you teary-eyed and sniffling. “Angel…angel what’s wrong?” your cries started to get louder as she sat you up pulling you in her lap.
“hey.. hey look at me.” She turned your head to face hers wiping away the tears from your face. “talk to me Lyubov..tell Mommy what’s wrong.”
you started to speak but you just broke down in her arms, she let out a sigh and put her chin on your head rubbing your back to help you with your breathing.
“oh, it’s one of those days isn’t it?” you nodded into her chest.
“aww baby…don’t worry, mommy’s here and I have all the time in the world to be with you..”
She shifted on the bed to make you both comfortable rocking you both as you started to calm down a little bit.
“i-i’m sorry... I just-“ you started but she shushed you, running her hands through your hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about printsessa, let mommy take care of you.”
She pulled you into a tight hug, “I know you don’t wanna talk when you’re in this state, But I don’t need you to say anything I just need you to listen to me, honey?” You nodded playing with her fingers.
“It’s all right, baby, It's ok to have these days...Even the people who seem to be the happiest, strongest, perfect individuals on Earth, go through tough days… It happens to me too, baby. Remember?” she started to smile again.
“Remember that even Mommy sometimes is in a bad mood and doesn’t feel good.”
“yea..” you sniffed
“Yeah? And what do you do to help me when I’m in a bad mood?”
“I try to make you feel better..” she nodded before pulling you back into her chest.
“That’s right! but right now, it’s time to make my baby feel better and I know exactly what to do about it,” she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that made you giggle a little.
“you do?”
“Yes, Of course, I do silly! first off I think my baby deserves some mommy kisses..” She started to kiss you all over your face before she landed on your lips.
your giggles filled the room, as she kissed all over your face and neck, before stopping and moving your hair out your face moving your so that you would face her.
“There’s that beautiful face I know and love, now mommy needs to tell you something important..” your smile quickly turned back into a frown. your anxieties started to show its face again as you removed your hand from hers but she quickly held it again rubbing the back of it to reassure you you were fine.
“Are you ready to hear it?”
you slowly nodded as she took a deep breath and smiled, “I love you.”
she took a hold of your face and looked into your eyes wiping your forming tears.
“I love you very very much angel.” your tears started to fall again your hands pressed up to your face as she pulled you right back into her.
“Aww, malysh,” she rubbed your back.
“shhh it’s ok, mommy’s got you... I didn’t mean to make you cry again but you needed to hear it. I love you so much, you mean the world to me..” she sighed.
“I know you have many responsibilities, and with everything that is going on sometimes you feel overwhelmed but I’m here for you, printsessa. I’m here to help you recharge, on the days you feel drained like today, and I’m here for you on the days you have everything under control and your energy matches the one of a little bunny because you're always my little energetic bunny..” she giggled.
“But still, I’m here for you, sweetheart always and I’m so grateful to be able to do that, cause you know I wouldn't stand to see my bunny like this and not do something about it, right?” you lifted your head and nodded at her before putting your head back on her chest.
“Yes, that’s because you’re important to me, honey. You’re my good girl, My precious baby girl, I will always be here when you need me I promise you.”
“I love you mama..” you mumbled into her chest and she laughed before kissing the top of your head.
She froze for a moment letting the word ‘mama’ ring through her head, out of all the years she’s been with your dad you’d never call her that. It stuck something in her something so… soft and endearing which filled her with so much love.
“I love you too, honey.” she pulled you up to face her again. “Are you feeling a little bit better now darling?”
“yeah, a little bit..”
“Good. But I’m not done cuddling and spoiling you tonight, I think my baby deserves to have a nice dinner.”
“I don’t need-“
“No no, honey you need to eat. How about I make your favorite food and you're going to be a good girl for me and eat it. I’m thinking my famous Chicken paprikash how does that sound?” you excitedly nodded Wanda made this dish a lot when she first moved in with you and your dad, and it soon became a meal you loved for her to make.
“I’ll also let you choose what movies we can watch tonight.. but for right now, we can just cuddle a little bit more.” She held out her arms, you melting right back into them listening to her heart beating and the breaths she took as she started to hum softly as she slowly rocked you.
“Don’t worry, baby…everything will be all right. You'll be fine, Mommy’s here, and I’ve got you. You’re safe with me, sweetheart, There’s nothing that can hurt you, I will not allow anything to hurt you, not while you’re safe and secure in Mommy’s arms. I will take care of you, always my sweet, precious, beautiful baby girl.”
#luna's fics⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda fic#step-mom!wanda#marvel#mcu#wanda maximoff x female reader#marvel fanfiction
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cuffing season | mike schmidt
summary - your handcuffs come into perfect use
warnings / includes - reader is fem. sub mike, unprotected sex, porn with a loose plot. kind of edited so if there’s a mistake lmk.
————
18+ only below the cut
mike was the first one to bring up the handcuffs — unsurprisingly. at first you thought he might have wanted to use them on you, but no, he wanted to be restrained. it shocked you a little bit, but you knew his tough and angry exterior hid a soft, whiny, pathetic mike that was just waiting to get taken advantage of.
he slightly regretted his choices, though. not because he wasn’t enjoying this. oh, lord above knows he was, but he couldn’t touch you.
you had just got on top of him. the tip of his cock is resting against your pussy lips. you can feel his precrum leaking out, creating a slick paste against your skin. one of your hands is resting on his chest, holding you steady as your other hand is touching his favorite parts of your body.
his arms struggle against the cuffs. the chain clinks against his wall where his back rests. your eyes wander down his neck, where his adam’s apple is bobbing up and down. he flexes the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he tries to work against the confines of the cuffs.
his mouth is open, drool pooling at the corners of his lips. you slowly move your hips back and forth. your folds naturally start to part and mike whimpers as he begins to feel your warmth envelop him. he bucks his hips up in attempt to enter you, but you sit up on your knees now towering over him. your tits are in his face, so close to his mouth he could lean forward and put his lips on you.
“you have to be patient, mikey,” you hum. your hand trails up from his chest to his jawline and cup his cheek.
“i need you,” he whines. “need me?” your voice comes out more sinister than you expect, but you don’t think he minds. your lips open up in a chesire cat grin.
he groans in the back of his throat. he didn’t think you could get more sexy, but you’ve proven him wrong. you lean down, your lips now against his ear. the tip of your tongue licks the shell of his ear. he shivers and bucks his hips, wanting to feel your walls coat his cock. he’s so hard, he thinks his dick will numb up and fall off before he will get inside of you.
“how bad do you need me, honey?” you hum. you start to lower yourself on his cock again. this time his tip fully enters you. he lets out something between a choked cry and moan. his hands ball into fists behind his back. he wishes he could grab you and fuck you fast and hard.
“tell me, mike, how bad you need me,” you repeat. “you don’t want me to leave you here cuffed, do you?”
“no, no!” he outbursts. he doesn’t think you will. he can feel your racing heart on his shoulder. he feels how wet you are and your pussy pulsating around him. but he never knows with you, and that’s what makes sex with you all the more fun.
“then tell me,” you say, your voice deep and dark now. you face him, looking him straight in the eyes. “i need you so bad, baby. god, you’re driving my crazy,” he groans. “i want you to fuck me so bad.”
your heart flutters and you swear your pussy did too.
“i want to feel your pussy wrapped around me, drowning my cock in your cum. i want to see your tits bounce in my face and watch my dick disappear between your thighs. fuck, i…” his eyes are closed now, imagining all the things he’s saying. you can feel him throb inside of you. without warning, you sink down.
“oh, fuck,” he mumbles. he rests his head on his wall, opening his eyes and falling in love with the sight of you. your right hand is on the wall by his head holding you up. you bounce on his cock, the base of it becoming wet and sticky, creating a gushing noise each time you go down.
“this what you wanted, mikey?” you pant.
“yes, yes,” he nods. your walls clamp around him and he whimpers out your name, once again finding the handcuffs an inconvenience.
“you feel so good. you’re so perfect, ah,” he cries out, eyes screwing shut and jaw dropping to release a loud moan. “i-i need to touch you, baby. please,” he begs. “need to have my hands on you. get these things off of me.”
he’s getting restless now. he’s starting to squirm more than ever.
“i quite like seeing you like this,” you say. you grab his face, making him look into your eyes. “i love seeing you plead for me. you’re so cute when you’re squirming. so needy for me. makes me happy. you wanna keep me happy, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“yes, yes,” he nods. he’s basically frothing at the mouth. “i’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“you’re such a good boy, you know that?” you start to kiss his jawline, licking a feather light trail to his ear. you lick the outer shell again. you swear his cock shudders inside of you.
he whines your name, his breathing starting to become erratic. you let out a moan yourself as his cock brushes up against that spot inside of you he always hits.
“i-i’m gon’ come,” he warns you. your nails scrape against his wall as you feel the warmth in your tummy start to arise. your thighs tighten around his sides. “me, too,” you say.
his cum shoots out in a hot burst inside of you. you let out a small cry as you come, slowly down and stopping. you slump down against his chest. both of you lay there until your panting comes to a stop.
you lift off with a little sigh. your legs are slightly wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to get the key to your cuffs and a washcloth for yourself. you unlock his hands and he lets out a groan of relief.
you sit down on the bed and spread your thighs, beginning to clean yourself up, but mike stops you. “let me,” he says.
you smile at him and nod. he gets up and gets on the ground in front of you. on of his hands parts your legs and rests on your thigh while the other wipes himself off of your skin. after he’s done, he gets up and kisses your forehead. his hand happens to slide up to your waist, holding you gently. you didn’t realize how much you missed his touch until now.
#idk what this is#🤷♂️ whoever reads this I hope you like it#mike schmidt#mike schmidt x reader#josh hutcherson x reader#josh hutcherson#fnaf#fnaf movie#fnaf x reader#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt x reader smut
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barbecue
neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader
Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. Oral; f!receiving, fingering; f!receiving. Semi public fingering. Pet names. Not proof read.
a/n: guys. the love on ride literally changed my life. like actually. thank you so much for the support. due to the love on the one shot, consider this part 2 (and also my token of deep gratitude). if you haven't already, please check out my masterlist! im writing a din fic so if you want to read more of me, you know where to find it. last thing, my shit keeps getting community labeled so spread the word to change ur settings i guess?? dont really know how to fix that, i give warnings at the top of every fic. really really last thing, i live and breathe for your comments/asks/submissions, i will consider your requests for future parts if you guys want one. love you all tysm
edit: gonna continue with this and make it a small series. comment or message me if you would like to be added to the tag list!!!
wc: 4.5k
this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:
part i
if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!
The ride back is silent.
He just kind of pushed you off his lap and back into the passenger’s seat—then started to drive you home without another word. You were too scared to say anything—you sat, body completely facing him—mouth hanging open like you wanted to say something, but you had no idea what to say to that.
To rejection.
Your dad’s call had really killed the vibe. Whenever you looked over at Joel he had a certain scowl that told you he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to talk to you.
But you wanted to talk to him.
You really did—like you worship the ground he walks on because he’s Joel Miller, and he just pushed you off his lap after sticking his fingers inside you, and you seemingly can’t get enough.
“So are we gonna talk about—” you look over at him but he cuts you off in an instant.
“No.”
“No? Joel—”
“I said no,” he gives you a quick glance then turns back to the road.
That shut you up. You feel kind of dejected. Like maybe it was a heat of the moment type thing. But it didn’t feel like that to you, if the quiet heartbreak settling in your chest is any indication.
You turn to look out the window when you feel tears prick your eyes—your throat becoming heavy.
All he gives you is a long sigh that pushes through the car.
When he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t even put the car in park, just switches gears to reverse so he can back out just as quickly.
Great.
You mumble a quick thanks and exit—if you slammed the door—you didn’t notice over the ringing in your ears.
You enter your house, rubbing your hands over your face. When you shut the front door, your head is spinning. You rest your forehead against it but a voice—your dad’s voice—snaps you out of it.
“Library?”
You spin around to look at him.
Fuck.
You have to keep it together.
“Yeah,” you reply. But even to your ears, you sound a little breathless.
“That Joel?” He tries to peer out the window of the front door—you know he can see the pick-up pulling out of the drive and into Joel’s across the street. Your dad doesn’t look skeptical—more confused than anything.
“Yeah. He was nice enough to give me a ride back,” you remove your shoes and start to walk towards the stairs. You need to leave before your cheeks turn beet red.
You think he’s about to let you off the hook. You’re halfway up the stairs, giving him a small smile goodbye, and he slips in his last question—
“No books?”
Fuck.
God.
Think.
Fuck.
“N-nothing good there. I need…special—books for my research,” you try to take one more step but he raises his eyebrow at your response and you freeze.
Special books? What the fuck are you thinking? What does that even mean?
You wait, breathless. And he kinda scowls at the floor then takes one more look up at you.
“Alright then,” he says and stalks off towards the living room —you let out a staggered breath.
Thank god.
_
The next few days roll into one long sleepless night. You toss and turn when you remember what happened in the truck. You aren’t embarrassed—but you’re hurt more than anything.
Joel Miller.
The last time you saw him, 2 summers ago, he was teaching you how to drive—you asked your dad, but he had said something about how he'd get too frustrated if he tried to teach you.
He asked Joel to give you your first lesson that night.
You remember sitting in the same truck, but in the driver's seat. He reached over to point out something on the speedometer, and you kept staring at his face instead of the dash—when he looked over and saw you weren’t paying attention he teased you.
But it was different.
Not like the teasing from a couple days ago.
You knew it was playful—this new teasing felt flirtatious. Like he actually cares if you’re seeing someone.
Cared.
Fuck.
You admittedly cried about it. A lot. And didn’t get out of bed much in the days since.
Your dad miraculously pulled through with the barbecue. It's actually funny how the one time you want him to forget something—he’s way too enthusiastic about it and somehow ends up inviting the whole neighborhood and then some.
Your dad asks you if you want to invite Liam as you lie in bed, you give him a shrug—not really hearing him. If Liam comes, who cares. If Liam doesn’t come, who cares. You certainly don’t. Liam isn’t really anything compared to a certain forty something year old who just rejected you in possibly the worst way imaginable.
Pathetic is probably the right word. You feel pathetic. Like maybe you’re just another woman in the neighborhood who has a crush on Joel that he would never go for. Like you were a mistake.
It's certainly what he made you feel like.
The day of the barbecue comes around and you haul yourself out of bed and into a sundress. Your dad is freaking out downstairs about the logistics of being able to feed the—honestly horrific—amount of people he’s invited. How they’re all going to fit in your backyard is a mystery to you.
You know Joel’s gonna be there—and you don’t know if you can stomach seeing him. The thought makes you a bit dizzy.
People start flooding in, all giving you a smile, hug, and congratulations as they walk through the house. You try to put on your best face but when every knock or doorbell ringing could be Joel, you bite your lip and furrow your brows.
There’s a lot of people. And by a lot—there’s probably close to 60 people in this house—spread through the backyard—and you can only really name 20.
Your phone buzzes and your heart drops a bit. You don’t know why. Joel doesn’t text you.
Sarah Miller: on our way soon
Fuck.
You like the message and go to turn off your phone when a certain notification catches your eye.
Liam Moore: excited to see you :)
So your dad had invited him. You groan a bit, but you can’t be too mad.
You slink to the backyard, saying hi to everyone as you move to find your dad. He’s standing with some men you recognize from the neighborhood. They all congratulate you again and you give them a smile and a thank you in return.
“You invited Liam?” you say under your breath when the group of men go back to talking.
“Yeah? I don’t really know what this—” he shrugs his shoulders dramatically “—means so I invited him just in case.” When you don’t respond he continues.
“That a problem sweetheart?” He looks at you, worried.
“No, no—I—thank you, dad. I mean it, really. This is awesome,” you give him a small smile and hug.
You turn towards the entrance of the backyard and see Joel and Sarah walking through the sliding doors. He catches your eye almost immediately—then drops your gaze.
He looks—good. Sporting a couple 6 packs of beer in each hand, Sarah carrying one more behind him. He moves through the crowd easily, saying hi to everyone in passing. God, he looks like a celebrity. It makes you roll your eyes a bit and chug down some of the beer in your hand.
When he arrives you move past him and greet Sarah. She screams (which makes everyone look at the two of you) and gives you a hug, jumping into your arms. It’s nice to see her. She congratulates you and starts telling you her entire life story that has been the past two years in response to your simple “How’ve you been?”
You missed her. And you should have stayed in touch more—but you were extremely busy—your dad was lucky to get a phone call once a week.
“But, he’s not important anymore—isn’t it crazy how fast men can move on? God. Anyways, congratulations again!” She really does move a mile a minute, “Dad, did you say congrats?”
Her words hit you like a truck—her story, very—ironic—considering your situation with the man she’s pulling over by the bicep.
“Uh yeah. Hey kid,” he says, not really meeting your eye.
“‘Hey kid’? Dude—” Sarah gives him a knowing look and pushes him towards you.
Joel wraps his arm around you—you feel like you can’t breathe. Your face touches his chest and you retract back from the hug like you’ve been burned. It sure feels like it.
“Congrats,” he gives you a nod and clears his throat.
Sarah rolls her eyes and gives you a look, her face saying; ‘god why is my dad so weird?’ You try to laugh it off and hope no one notices your blush.
Thankfully, she pulls you away from him, you toss a look over your shoulder and see him staring back at you.
_
Liam arrives shortly after. You leave Sarah with some neighborhood friends and make your way to the front door.
When you open it, you’re pleasantly surprised.
Liam is—hot?
You only remember his 12th grade image—sporting hair that was a bit too short for his head and some ill fitting clothes but this is—different.
He looks nice. Polished.
Different from what you remembered, or what you expected.
“Hey!” he says and brings you into a hug.
“Hey Liam,” you chuckle into his arm.
“Good to see you! I didn’t know if we would ever get together. Have you been getting my calls?” he pulls back and gives you a soft look.
You feel bad.
“Uh, I think my dad is like super bad with the phone. I didn’t know you had been calling the house till like yesterday,” you reply sheepishly. God, starting this out with a lie.
“Hey no worries, anyways, congratulations!” His hand lands on your back as you move to let him inside. It trails a bit lower and you try not to think too much about it.
“Yeah, you too—Princeton right?” You hope that’s right—you haven’t been keeping up with him.
“Oh uh Yale, but close enough,” he chuckles and accepts the beer you hand him.
“Shit. Sorry, I—you know—my brain,” you touch his arm, gently, in apology—and you can’t help but notice the muscle underneath his shirt. “You enjoyed it?”
“Oh yeah. It was great. Going to Columbia for law school.”
Hm. Smart.
“Wow! That’s—wow. Congrats. Really, Liam, that’s awesome,” you say, and you mean it. He’s impressing you. And he’s not so hard on the eyes either.
It almost makes you forget about your dad’s best friend. Almost.
Liam pulls you into small talk—you walk him around the house while introducing him to the people you do know—while purposefully trying to avoid the backyard until he suggests getting some air.
Your dad is the first to greet you—drunk. He’s standing next to Joel.
“Hey! You made it!” He slurs. Oh god.
“Yeah thanks for the invite sir,” Liam extends his hand to shake your dad’s.
“Yeah, yeah…this is Joel,” your dad says as they drop hands.
Liam extends his to Joel and you bite your lip and almost have to look away out of embarrassment when he takes it.
“Liam,” he says while shaking. Liam’s eyes turn down to their hands joined and grimaces a bit.
“Joel.”
“Nice to meet you sir,” Liam says. You can tell he’s trying to drop Joel’s hand.
“Likewise.”
Joel lets the handshake go on for far too long. An awkward cloud blankets the air. Liam looks at you and when you meet his eye, you drop his gaze and peek over at Joel. Your dad hardly seems to notice in his drunken state but Joel seems mad—and Liam seems scared.
When Joel finally lets Liam’s hand go, Liam shakes it out a bit like it’s been crushed.
Fuck.
You give Joel a glance and he’s looking back at you—though you can’t read his eye. You shake your head a bit and try to brush it off. You can feel his looks through your father’s conversation. He remains silent—just the occasional scan at Liam when his hand comes to rest on your lower back again. A flick in his jaw is the only indication he might have any emotions towards this situation.
After some small talk you attempt to pull Liam away. Your dad is way too drunk and Joel is way too brooding for you to witness any longer.
When you both walk away, you can feel Joel’s hardened gaze bore into the back of your head. It sends shivers through you.
“You know that guy?” Liam whispers when you exit.
“Yeah, he’s uh—he’s my neighbor,” you stutter.
“Thought my hand was gonna fall off,” he mutters, looking down at it.
You smile and just try to laugh it off.
_
You’re sitting on some lawn chairs with Liam. It's been nice catching up with him. He’s really grown up since the last time you spoke. You wanted to ghost him because he seemed immature. Like the kid you knew four years ago. But this was nice. He was more your speed now.
And he wasn’t fingering you then pushing you off him in the next instance—which was nice.
“I had a good time today,” he says, leaning back on the chair and looking to the side towards you.
“Me too. Thanks for coming,” you say, smiling back at him.
“Would you want to—like—get dinner sometime? I know you just got back but…”
That kind of throws you for a loop. Sure, talking to him at a party is one thing. Dinner—a date—is another. But when your gaze catches Joel standing behind Liam’s head—talking to some woman you don’t recognize—it’s like your mind's made up for you.
“Sure. That’d be nice,” you say. Liam gives you a smile back.
You walk him to the door after a bit more talking. Liam said he had something he had to do—you didn’t really hear much after you saw Joel talking to that lady. The kitchen area is still busy with guests—it almost seems like people are still coming in.
He gives you a kiss on the cheek as he bids you goodbye. You don’t blush. You don’t really do much of anything.
When you shut the door you let out a huff. This day has been entirely too much and you’re already tired from the thought of seeing your dad drunk again and Sarah’s hyperactive love life she still has to fill you in on.
“You dating’ him?”
You whip around to find Joel entering your space. His hands shoved in his pockets.
You scoff. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to weave in and out of your life when it’s convenient for him.
“Just leave Joel,” you say, defeated. You don’t want to play this game with him anymore.
“Smart kid,” he notes but he doesn’t sound that genuine and you really can’t deal with this right now.
“What’s your problem?” you say, hushed, but no one seems to be paying attention to your conversation.
“I ain’t got one.”
“The handshake, Joel? C’mon,” you say, shaking your head while looking down at the ground “Fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath.
“What’d you say?” He asks—angry.
“I said you’re a fucking asshole,” you meet his eye. That doesn’t surprise him, but you definitely surprise yourself. He looks angrier. If that’s possible.
He lets it simmer for a bit before speaking again.
“‘S none of my business.”
“Yeah. It’s not. So stop shooting daggers at him and trying to break his hand.”
“So he’s gonna be comin’ around more often?”
“Do I need your permission?”
“No. Just curious," Jesus christ. He’s making you furious.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
That makes your eyes go wide and you stare back at him in shock. How could he be throwing this back in your face after he ignored you?
“No—” you scoff “—I really don’t.”
He pauses—like he was about to say something snippy—but after hearing your response he falters. He almost looks hurt. Good. You want him to hurt as much as you were.
“Hey! There you are!” a neighbor you recognize—a younger man, Mason, accompanied by the same woman Joel was just talking to, “C’mon over—lets me get you guys a drink.”
You follow Mason, Joel follows suit. His brooding energy feels uneasy from behind you.
You and Joel come around to the empty side of the kitchen island and watch as Mason makes you both a drink. Your hand comes down to play with the hem of your dress but Joel’s standing so close to you that his fingers brush yours, you retract away.
You and Joel stand in between the kitchen counter and the island. Mason and woman opposite you on the other side of the island.
“So? School was good?” Mason asks like he’s been keeping up with you.
“Yeah! Yeah, finished up some research—I’m back for the summer but I need to get a job,” you reply sheepishly with a chuckle. He starts talking about how he went to Texas Tech, and you stop paying attention.
You peek over at Joel beside you, sipping his beer while looking at Mason talking. You doubt Joel is listening.
“Anyways! A toast! What a smart kiddo—your dad should be really proud,” Mason says while leaning over the island to meet your glass, you and Joel both do the same.
When you’re coming back from the toast, lips curling around the rim of the glass, Joel's hand lands on your lower back.
No one can see—the counter coming up to your waist, with no one nearby except for the pair standing across the counter. Joel's standing so close to your side that they don’t even bat an eye when his hand starts to drift lower.
You choke on your drink—looking at him from the corner of your eye.
“You okay sweetheart?” The woman asks.
“Yeah—y-yeah. ‘M fine,” you say through a couple of coughs.
She looks at you, then back at Joel, giving him a smile—then starts talking with Mason again.
You bite your lip to keep from bursting. You peak over at him again but he remains cool, unmoving, nodding his head every once in a while at the conversation.
Your dress is short and it rides up with his hand, moving across your backside.
You bring your cup to your lips, attempting to hide your mouth when you let out a small—
“What the hell are you doing?” under your hushed breath.
Of course, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.
You know you could just walk away. Just excuse yourself from the conversation, leaving him and this woman who obviously wants him, behind. But something deep inside you doesn’t want to. Even through all the hurt he put you through—the heartbreak. You still want him, even if this is wildly inappropriate—and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you break.
His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, eventually threatening to your panties after he hikes the dress up over his hand.
The pair in front of you are now talking about some raccoon who keeps terrorizing the neighborhood trash cans and you really couldn’t care less.
You couldn't care less when he pushes your panties to the side to nudge his fingers through your slick.
His breath hitches at the feeling of you already soaking. His pointer finger catches on your clit, and you forget how the day started.
“You sure you’re okay sweetie? You look a little pale,” she continues. God. Annoying.
“Yeah—sorry. Just a bit tired. Long d-day—” the tip of his finger pushes into you. The pair gives you a confused look and you smile back in the hopes they drop it—and they do—thank god.
“So that kid Liam, your dad said?” Mason gives you a teasing look.
“Yeah—Liam. I knew him in high school,” you try to keep your wavering voice to a minimum.
“You guys look good together. Cute couple,” the woman says and you almost choke.
Not because you and Liam are definitely not dating but because at her comment, Joel sinks a finger deep into you and you try not to conceal your whimper with a cough.
You can feel him huff and let out a small chuckle beside you.
“Oh we’re not dating, just friends,” you reply with a breathy laugh. You grip the counter so hard it might break.
“Just friends huh? Looked cozy though,” Joel quips from beside you. His tone is teasing like he’s talking to a friend. The pair in front of you laugh.
“Yeah just friends, Joel,” you try to chuckle with them but it's hard when his finger begins to pump in and out of you while a second nudges at your entrance.
The thickness of his fingers leaves you breathless while your head spins.
You can hear your dad from outside—starting to come in and you know you need to leave.
Joel hears it too, and his fingers slow.
You reach behind you when the pair isn’t looking, and carefully but quickly, pull his hand away. You almost moan at the loss of his fingers.
“Excuse me,” you look at the pair, raising your glass to them and give Joel a meet me upstairs look while you slink away quickly.
You enter the guest bedroom—you don’t want him to see the messy state of your room from unpacking.
When you shut the door, you let out a small scream—he’s driving you up the walls—and you keep coming back for more. But he needs to know you’re not just for the taking.
The door opens and shuts as you stand with your back facing it, but you know it’s Joel.
“What the fuck Joel?” you turn, exasperated, “What the fuck are you doing?”
He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with a hand on his hip.
When he doesn’t respond you continue—“You can’t just fuck with me whenever you feel like.”
“I ain’t fuckin’ with you.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” you say, hands coming to run over your face. “Then what was that downstairs?” No response again. “Is this about Liam?”
Finally he breaks—“I don’t care about that kid.”
God, it's like pulling teeth.
“You don’t care?” you let out a breathless laugh, “Right. Okay. Really seemed like it when you almost broke his hand."
“What?” He steps closer to you, you take one back, “You want me to care?”
“No—I—Jesus, Joel.” You feel like crying, but you bite your lip instead.
He takes more steps towards you, and you take some more back. Your back hits the wall with a thud and you gasp.
“You want me to care?” he repeats his statement, a dark, husky drawl wrapping around his words. “‘Bout your little boy toy?”
You can’t find your words.
The air is different between you. It’s like he knows that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever get away from him. That he swirls through your thoughts despite your hardest efforts.
You begin to nod your head before you know what you’re doing.
His hand comes up and runs his thumb over your bottom lip.
“Open,” he says while pushing his thumb into your mouth—and you do.
He eyes your mouth, taking his thumb, instinctively sucking on it as he pushes it down on your tongue.
“Good girl,” he breathes out.
He takes his thumb out of your mouth, running it over your bottom lip—then he moves—and you think he’s going to leave, but he drops down to his knees instead.
“I do care. Care quite a bit,” he mumbles into the skin of your legs as his hands roam the backs of your thighs.
He trails kisses up the inside of your legs—his nose disappearing under your dress—but his eyes stay trained on you.
He reaches up to push your dress to your stomach, and you hold it for him on instinct.
His nose rubs against your clothed cunt, placing soft kisses there—you let out a strangled moan.
“Joel…” you let out in a staggered breath.
He shakes his head like he’s trying to say don’t, and the movement rubs against your clit and your head hits the wall behind you.
Joel’s hand comes down to push your panties to the side, holding it there. You squirm when the air hits your dripping core.
He throws one of your legs over his shoulder so he can access you better. Your heel digs into his back in attempts to bring his mouth closer.
“Fuck, angel,” he says when he sees your wetness. “Always so wet.”
“Please Joel, I—” his lips come to wrap around your clit, you’re cut off with a strangled moan.
He sucks and his tongue darts out to flick your clit, then back down to taste your dripping entrance. He groans against you, and the vibrations shoot through your core.
“Fuck Joel—I—” you know this isn’t right. You asked him up here to put him in his place, but when his tongue does that on you and your orgasm is quickly approaching, you can’t seem to remember what you wanted to talk to him about, “—God. Please—”
You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. Maybe it’s your sad attempts to try and get him to stay with you.
His hand comes up between your legs. His fingers dance over your entrance, soaking it in your wetness.
The tip of his middle finger prods, but doesn’t sink in like you expect. It makes you squirm and whine nonsense to him.
“You want him, baby? You wish it was him instead?” He says when he pauses and looks up at you.
“No—no. God—I—you. Joel, want you,” you whine, and moan even louder when he pushes two fingers in at your response.
“That’s it, good girl,” he says when your walls stretch around his fingers. You feel like you might come just from the feeling of them pushing in—and you get even closer when he pumps them at a slow pace.
It feels like an apology. Like he’s on his knees begging you to forgive him. But you know him better. It’s more like he’s proving he’s gonna be the only one for you ever. Even when you have boys thinking about you 24/7, and you can’t even spare them a single thought.
“Joel—I—ah—”
His lips return back to your clit, sucking and flicking and it pushes you over the edge. He can feel you pulsing around him, whispering a soft, “fuck are you coming?” his shock, evident in his tone.
You push his head back to your clit, and he works on it, pushing you into white oblivion as you slump against the wall.
You stand there, panting, for a bit. His own breath coming hot onto your skin while he looks up at you.
When he slowly removes his fingers and lets your leg down from his shoulder, you moan quietly.
“Kiss me,” you plead, still writhing from your orgasm.
“Get back to your party,” is all he says while straightening out your dress, and leaving the room.
_
part iii
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel x reader#the last of us hbo#joel miller#joel miller self insert#the last of us#joel fic#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fic#joel the last of us#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal as joel miller#joel miller smut#smut#joel x f!reader#joel x female reader#joel x you#tlou fanfiction#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#dom!joel#dom!joel miller
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Edits | Ona Batlle x Reader
this request, enjoy :)
Ona is in her own world, tucked away in her little cubby in the changing room. The hand draped around her neck moves slightly, rubbing against her skin absently. Her bottom lip tucks tightly between her teeth momentarily before her jaw goes slack, she repeats the cycle every few seconds. Her eyes are focused on the phone screen, pupils dilated amorously at the video playing.
Training would start soon and she knew better than to be doing this here with the risk of being caught too high, but it just happened. She couldn’t bring herself to just scroll past the fan made video, and it’s just impossible for her to only watch one. That’s how she ended up scrolling through the tag of your name the last ten minutes. Each video causes her head to spin a bit more than the last.
“Ay,” she jumps, nearly dropping her phone at Patri’s loud voice interrupting her. “Jesus, what is that look? Are you ill?”
“You scared me. Don’t just walk up to people like that and no, I feel fine,” Ona mumbles out the last part, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson.
Patri, always suspicious, looks her over before setting her sights on the phone in Ona’s hand. Without warning she grabs the device and moves out of the defender's reach. The pure shock at the action makes Ona freeze in her spot, unsure what to do next as she sees the girl focus on the screen. An unease setting in when Patri looks repeatedly between her and the phone several times before bursting into laughter. “What is this?”
Ona is grateful for the fact that the room is empty minus a few fellow stragglers getting ready for training. She finally regains motion in her legs and strides towards her teasing teammate, “nothing, give me the phone back.”
Ona’s attempt to grab the device is fruitless as Patri pulls it out of her reach, “you like?”
“No, it just popped up. Now give it back, we need to get to training,” Ona huffs, sighing in relief when she finally relinquishes the phone. She’s quick to exit out of the app and tuck her phone securely back in her bag.
Ona doesn’t wait to hear what the midfielder has to say as she sprints off to training. She sees you first and as much as she wants to cozy up beside you like usual the embarrassment still lingers. She settles for sliding in beside Kiera for the morning meeting as she quickly regrets it when she sees Patri make her way out heading straight towards you.
Patri looks right into Ona’s nervous eyes with a smirk as she bumps your shoulder playfully, making you laugh. Ona tries to pay attention as Jonatan gives his instructions for the day, but her eyes glance in the direction of you and Patri more than she cares to admit. A mix of nerves and jealousy surges through her each time she sees you chuckling at something Patri whispered.
“Are you alright? You look fuming,” Kiera asks Ona as warmups get set to begin.
“I’m fine,” Ona smiles, looking at Kiera and trying to pretend she doesn’t see you approaching.
When you reach the two women in discussion you sling an arm around Ona’s shoulder, “hey, you feeling okay? Patri said you weren’t feeling well in the change room.”
Ona feels her heart racing at the concern etched in your features, “sí, all better,” she brushes off, wrapping an arm around your waist.
Ona couldn’t resist falling into your embrace and it would be more weird if she didn’t. The two of you were close and had been since you played together at ManU. Ona is unsure when her attraction began, but she was sure it was something about seeing you with her childhood club crest on your chest that altered her brain.
“I thought you were mad at me. We didn’t have our morning meeting cuddles,” you pout, looking her way with sad eyes.
“Gross,” Kiera mumbles, jogging off after feeling out of place in the conversation.
Ona squeezes you tighter in apology, “never, my head was just a bit eh?”
Before you can respond and question her further Mariona is by your side, “chica, you look good today. What have you been doing?”
A combination of her shamelessly roaming her eyes over your body, and the cute English falling from her mouth makes you blush, “Thanks Mario,” you chuckle as you feel Ona squeeze harshly at your waist. You look in the girl's direction, frowning when you see the daggers she’s shooting Mariona’s way.
“With me?” She questions, gesturing towards the football at her feet. You once again feel the harsh squeeze at your waist.
“Next time, I’ve got to talk to Oni about something,” you say apologetically. Mariona shrugs, sending you a wink and a teasing smirk in Ona’s direction that you see her roll her eyes at. “What was that?” You laugh.
“What?”
You squeeze her shoulder harshly like she did to you and she groans, pulling away, “why were you trying to rip her apart with your eyes?”
“She shouldn’t be looking at you like that,” Ona’s response is short, but direct as she distracts herself by dribbling the ball. “Why did you blush, you like her?”
You laugh at the very blatant jealousy, “Ona I don’t think she meant it like that, and no I don’t like her it was just cute.” She rolls her eyes, kicking the ball in your direction. “Would you be mad if she did?”
“No,” again her response is quick and you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not funny. Plus, she is not single,” she says it like she’s trying to convince you it’s a bad idea.
“Okay Oni,” you laugh. The rest of training Ona is stuck to your side like velcro. You couldn’t make a single move without the girl by your side. You knew something was up when Lucy, Pina, and all the kids made their way over to you full of compliments.
While flattering you knew it was some inside joke that you were clearly not a part of. Ona however seemed very aware and in on whatever was happening, sending menacing glares in each girl’s direction. Ona made sure to remind you which ones were in a relationship, and why the ones that weren’t still were not the best option. ‘She’s too young, too annoying, your Spanish needs work, you two couldn’t communicate well.’ All very valid reasons, but you couldn’t help but tease her.
“I don’t know, she’s kind of cute and maybe my Spanish will improve as we get to know each other.”
Ona’s arms are crossed and her gaze is one of annoyance, “no, I will teach you.”
“Yeah, but she will buy me flowers and teach me. It’s different,” you wave her off. Another eye roll is sent your way before you see Ona take in a deep sigh spotting something behind you. You turn your head to see Patri coming your way.
“Hola, have lunch with me?” Again it’s the cuteness of the proposal that makes you bashful.
Before you get a chance to respond, Ona is stepping up to speak for you, “no, she is busy… we are busy!” She makes sure to emphasize the ‘we’ as she wraps an arm around you. A soft giggle escaping your mouth at the teasing smirk from Patri.
“Okay seriously what is happening?” You chuckle out, looking between the two women in front of you.
Patri sighs like she’s been holding something in forever and you start to straighten yourself up in case it’s serious. “I seen this… video of-” Ona slaps a hand against her mouth, effectively silencing her.
“Patri, por favor,” she pleads, before switching to Catalan completely losing you in the conversation. You tilt your head in confusion as they both look your way and Ona drops her hand from the girl's mouth.
“Maybe some other time amor,” Patri winks before heading off with the same teasing smirk in place. Ona groans, a frustrated hand sliding down her face.
“So what was that? No fair when you speak Catalan you know I don’t understand,” you pout.
“Patri caught me watching a… fan edit of you this morning,” you struggle to piece together the mumbled Spanglish briefly but you get it. A smile breaks across your face, eyes twinkling in delight at the rose colored cheeks in front of you. “That’s why they’ve all been so flirty and trying to rile me up all day. I mean no- I don’t know. You do look beautiful. I am sure they all mean things they say. I would, but yeah. I’m sorry, it is weird,” Ona rushes out, a look of relief and embarrassment flashing in her eyes.
You soften at her distraught state, shrugging as you ask, “did I look good in the videos?” Ona lets her eyes flicker back towards yours, calming at the soft look on your face she nods with certainty. “Good enough that you would be willing to take me out?”
“Sí,” Ona nearly shouts, gaining a few curious looks from the team. “I mean sure if you wanted,” she tries to play it off casually.
You tap your chin in thought, watching as Ona nervously tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “You made me wait five years to finally get a date. I shouldn’t say yes so easily.”
“Qué?” Ona’s eyes widened. You roll your eyes, Ona was so oblivious it pained you. Ever since your time together at ManU you had been dropping hints. While you could’ve chosen to be a bit more direct you weren’t entirely sure she was actually interested. Plus there were times she was seeing other people and you’d completely give up hope.
When you both came to Barcelona it felt like everything intensified on both sides, but still she made no actual move. You had officially made up your mind that the two of you were simply just going to be friends. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask since we were back in Manchester.”
“Oh?” Ona tries to look calm but you can nearly hear the drumming of her heart. “It is too late?”
“I never said that,” you laugh, quickly coming to your senses. “You’ll just have to work harder.”
A smug look comes to her face, the one you’ve come to adore. The defender's confidence is one of your favorite things about her. “Be ready tonight. I will pick you up at 7,” Ona sneaks a quick peck to your cheek before rushing off towards the building.
“She finally asked?” You flinch at the sudden voice, too busy holding your burning cheek where she kissed you.
You turn, seeing Keira standing beside you. She was one of the few people you’d actually confided in about your little dilemma with Ona over the years, “yeah she finally did,” you whisper dreamily.
A fake gag falls from her mouth, “you are going to be even more insufferable now.”
You can’t even deny it. You want to run around the pitch in excitement, but you contain yourself. Choosing to play it cool until you were alone. Who knew a little fan edit and some teasing was all it took to put things in motion.
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Bucky vs Bucky ft smut
Bucky vs Bucky - Smutty edition.
Imagine time travel going wrong only to end up so right when you have present Bucky and 40′s Bucky in front of you. You love your boyfriend with your whole entire heart and being but there's something about that sweet 40′s baby that makes you weak.
Nothing gets by Bucky who notices the way your thighs squeeze together around his former self or the way you get all shy and giggly. The young soldier is no better, eyeing the prettiest doll he’s ever seen, wanting just 1 taste of his future life. You can’t seem to take your eyes off him; imagine your surprise when you walk into you bedroom to find your Bucky lounging on the couch while the other is leaning against your dresser, both with equally devious expressions. You feel hot all over because there is something in the air, filled with thick tension.
“What-what are you both doing” You stutter out, biting your lip when the young soldier approaches you, cupping your cheek. You let out a needy whimper while Bucky smirked from his place on the touch, tugging the waistband of his sweats down, revealing his aching erection.
“I’m going to sit here and stroke my cock and you’re going to suck his cock like the pretty slutty little princess you are, understand kitten?” He let out a satisfied hum watching you sink to your knees in front of the soldier without a question.
“You look so pretty sugar” He groaned, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his cock out, chest already heaving when your lips brush against his wet tip. You were greedy for him, too worked up to tease him with just your tongue. You wrapped your plush lips around his tip, nursing and suckling him, your hand pumping what you couldn’t fit into your mouth. “OH-That’s it sweets, you got a real mouth on you-”
He didn’t even realize he was rutting his hips into your mouth, chasing the warm wetness of your throat. You grew more desperate, your panties soaked, needing to feel him inside you, tasting him making you more feral than before. You could’ve passed out at the sight of your boyfriend giving himself long languid strokes, flicking at the slit with his thumb, smearing his arousal all over the head.
“Need something, kitten?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow when you looked over to him with glassy eyes, “You’re little button all tingly baby? You need him to stuff you full, take you right on the floor like the whore you are?”
You desperately nodded, gasping when the much younger Bucky gently laid you on the floor, undressing you with care before throwing all his clothes off. He didn’t waste a second lining himself up, rubbing his blunt tip through your folds, groaning at the feeling of your dripping cunt.
“You’re soaked bunny” He started to press his cock in, the tip breeching your entrance, the both of you moaning in unison at the feeling of his stretch, “Shit, I-i won’t last if you keep squeezin’ me doll”
He rested his forehead against yours, starting off slow, taking your hands and pinning them above your head against the floor. His slow pace only lasted so long; within no time he was fucking into you like an animal in heat, all former composure lost.
“Fuck s’even better than I imagined” Bucky’s hips lifted off the couch, thrusting into his fist watching you lock your ankles together, moaning like a desperate whore on the floor, taking all the cock the soldier was willing to give you. The soldier himself was no better, equally lost in your tight wet heat, growling at the squelching sound that left you each time he fucked up into you.
“Sh-shit doll, you’re-god damn” He groaned, lewd and vulture words swimming in his mind, unable to say them out loud. “You got me thinkin’ pure filth bunny”
“Tell her exactly what she is, she likes it” Bucky smirked, jerking his cock off faster at the sight of your eyes rolling back, loud wanton moans filling the room.
“You’re a pretty little slut doll, don’t get me wrong, you’re pussy is a dream” One he started running his mouth, he couldn’t stop, babbling to himself while you clenched and clawed at him, your eyes darting between the pretty man making you see stars and the other playing with his cock, both men so pretty making you lose it with their words.
“What I wouldn’t give to take ya back with me sweets, fuck, to have a sweet housewife to come to with her legs spread for me, letting me pump her up with my load till she’s all round with my kid”
“She’s a good little kitten, just waiting for cock, isn’t that right baby? Look what you do to us doll”
“Yeah, I know you’d be so good doll, can tell you’d be so perfect with the way you opened these pretty thighs up for me, letting me shove my cock all the way in you”
“Didn’t need me to tell you twice to take his cock, hm? Look how quick you spread your legs baby, sucking him like you’ve never tasted cock before”
“Would you be a good housewife for me baby? Would you cook me dinner wearin’ nothin’ but some pretty heels? Be in bed, waitin’ for me, waitin’ for me to come make that pussy feel all better?”
“She needs it, that cute pearl between her legs is so fuckin’ greedy, always begging for someone to rub and kiss it all better”
“Would put a ring on ya finger in a heart beat” He moaned when you clenched at his words, “You like that, huh darlin’”
Your moans grew more desperate, crying out when he pulled back and sat back on his heels, throwing your legs on his shoulders, watching his cock disappear in and out, pounding into you harder.
“Go-go a head and rub that pretty pussy for me baby-fuck- that’s it, my slutty slutty bunny” His grip around your hips tightened, slamming you down onto him while you reached down to touch yourself, rubbing fast tight circles.
“I’m gonna-I’m-fuck-.Bucky-Soldier-I-please-FUCK” You sobbed in pleasure as your orgasm started to wash over, hiccupping between moans when his hips stuttered, losing his pace.
“FUCK YESSS” Thick warm ropes of cum started to fill your pussy, the hold he had on you softening.
“Wanna see something pretty?” You could hear Bucky’s footsteps approaching; you whimpered as the soldier pulled out, watching your boyfriend stroke his cock, standing over your face. You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out as Bucky jerked himself faster, moaning letting his cum shoot all over your face, drops spilling onto your tongue.
You felt like you were floating, pliant on the floor, a sticky hot mess between your legs, your face wet with his cum. You panted between soft whimpers, the aftershocks of your orgasms unending. Your eyes grew wide when you felt a pair of arms, one warm the other cold, pick you off the floor and toss you onto the bed, your boyfriend and the pretty soldier both standing at the foot of the bed, cocks still hard as ever.
“Better catch your breath sugar, were not done with you”
“Time for you to take us both, sweetheart”
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