#but i feel like this counts for outside of the au too so
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The (Un)Expected - S.R.
Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8k
Summary:
A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.
For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.
But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.
Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading
A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕
A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰
Steve Rogers was a sickly child.
He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and landing a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.
A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.
All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.
Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.
In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.
'I’m not a doctor yet.'
Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.
It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?
That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.
Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?
Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.
Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.
Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.
And then… then he died.
One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body and the water and snow and icy wind would for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.
When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.
Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.
When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.
As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.
The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.
But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.
His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.
It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.
Were you still there somewhere?
And then, a shier thought:
Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?
And then, the shiest one of them all:
Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?
When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.
But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?
The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.
For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.
He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.
But there was always hope, wasn’t there?
And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.
In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.
And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.
Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.
Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.
One that not even science seemed capable of beating.
And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?
Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.
But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.
There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.
But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?
It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.
But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.
You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.
You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.
They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.
As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.
On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.
On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.
'Doctor, are you alright?'
Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.
You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.
Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.
However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.
And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.
You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.
You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.
A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.
A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.
And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.
You were not a doctor yet, after all.
Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.
You signed up for a lot of things.
It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.
But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.
It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.
You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.
You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.
You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.
You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.
But that was okay. You could do it.
There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.
You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons. With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.
Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.
Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.
But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.
And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.
Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.
When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.
By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.
The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.
You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.
You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.
Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.
What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.
You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.
“Why?! Why the fuck-“
“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”
“I can’t shoot a-!”
Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.
You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.
Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.
You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.
Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.
Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.
Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.
And causing you to cry out in fright.
Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.
Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.
You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.
As well.
Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-
You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.
More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.
However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.
Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.
You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.
Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest pair of blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.
Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.
And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.
“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.
Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.
“’mm… not a doctor yet.”
As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.
You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.
The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.
His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.
Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?
And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?
“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”
Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-
Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-
You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-
You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.
“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“
A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.
“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”
Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.
Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.
“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.
Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to then one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?
So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.
In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”
Huh?
Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.
And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.
“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.
The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.
“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”
You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.
“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”
You gulped at the sight, even as uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.
Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?
You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.
“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”
“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.
“Hey, you-“
“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.
You truly must have hit your head hard.
…as if it hadn’t been evident before.
“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”
A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.
“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”
It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.
A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.
Doctor, are you alright?
He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.
You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.
He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.
“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”
It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.
…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—
What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.
But seriously, what had been your first words-
“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head. “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”
Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.
And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.
“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”
“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.
You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.
…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down?
“That’s… really not better.”
He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.
Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.
Oh no.
Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.
However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.
See your soulmate.
You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.
“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”
You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.
The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.
I really did that?
“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”
As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.
And not just because he was your soulmate.
Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.
“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”
“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”
His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.
“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”
Steve.
You knew that. You liked that.
Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.
You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.
His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.
He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.
And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.
You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.
And you weren’t even a doctor yet.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”
Complete masterlist
Steve Rogers masterlist
Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?
AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂
Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭
Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕
May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨
#CT 2024 raffle entry#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x you#steve rogers#captain america#captain america x reader#captain america x you#captain america imagine#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fluff#soulmate au#soulmate steve rogers#the unexpected#anika ann
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Powerslide
Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader
Summary: Usually, your best friend’s player roommate is the most annoying person on earth, but after your date ditches you, he’s more than willing to step in as a replacement.
Tropes: enemies to whatever this is, frat boy!yeonjun, bff!taehyun, college AU, soft dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, kinda exhibitionism & dacryphilia
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: smut (mdni!!!!!!!!!!), mentions of alcohol
A/N: My friend really wanted a Yeonjun fic to happen and I suddenly felt like writing this. I am NOT a smut writer, so this might not be very good, but I tried <3
“Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too
I lose my mind when it comes to you
I take time with the ones I choose
And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you”
—Boyfriend, Ariana Grande & Social House
The guy you’ve been seeing has pissed you off for the last time. As soon as you got a text asking to reschedule tonight’s date, while you were already standing outside of the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at, it was over.
You reply for him to go fuck himself and trudge back to campus to complain to your best friend, Taehyun.
Despite the two of you becoming almost inseparable after being paired up in organic chemistry together, it’s clear to both of you that it’s just a platonic thing. If you had to pick which one of his friends you were most into, it’d be his roommate, Yeonjun.
Except he pisses you off more than the guys you actually go out with. You can’t recall a time where you’ve ever talked to him sober or he hasn’t shamelessly flirted with you in front of whoever else was involved in the conversation.
You know he sees girls as pawns and not people, and so you don’t even bother thinking about the two of you together. Until he answers the door instead of Taehyun, fresh from the shower, water still dripping from his hair onto the towel barely clinging to his waist.
“Where’s Taehyun?” you ask. Your line of sight naturally falls on his bare chest, but you do your best to look up at his face. He’s smirking at you.
“He’s got a soccer game,” Yeonjun says, stepping aside to let you into the common room. “Should be over soon if you want to wait for him.”
You walk past him, plopping yourself onto their small couch. Yeonjun’s eyes don’t leave you, taking in your full date night outfit and the way it hugs you perfectly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. You can swear you can hear him about to burst out into laughter as he watches you go through the five stages of grief. “You had a date tonight, didn’t you?”
“How do you know that?” you sit up, finally locking eyes with him. By now, he’s got a full fledged grin on his face.
“Taehyun told me,” he shrugs, his towel becoming looser with every movement. “Listen, I was just being nice and asking. If you want to ice me out like you always do, go ahead.”
His honesty makes your face heat up in anger. Yes, you’ve never been very nice to him, but for good reason. He’s just another fuckboy in a frat, and you’ve dealt with enough of those in your first years of college to know better.
“I can be nice,” you scoff, turning to look out the window. It’s so dark that all you can see are the streetlamps in the distance.
“Then by all means, show me,” he says, his voice shifting from playful to something more serious. “I’d really like to see how nice you can be.”
There’s something about the way he’s talking to you that feels good. Wrong, but good.
“Fine,” you relent, looking back to see he’s gotten much closer to you than before. “But you need to go get dressed.”
“Am I distracting?” he smiles, tilting his head at you. You roll your eyes.
“More like nauseating,” you lie. He is distracting, just like usual. The only thing that really keeps you from giving him a chance is how annoying he is, but for some reason, you’re happy to entertain his advances tonight.
“I’ll be right back,” he says before walking into his bedroom. When he comes back, he’s got a red hoodie and ripped jeans thrown on, his hair still damp and messy. “Better?”
“Much better,” you approve. He nods before sitting down next to you on the couch, close enough so that his hand can graze your knee without it being obvious that he’s totally doing it on purpose. “Do you really want to hear about my love life?”
“Hmm, what else would we talk about?” he hums, his gaze locked on your glossy red lips. You can feel your face heat up, prompting you to scoot further away from him.
“We could talk about yours instead. Although, from what Taehyun tells me, I’m not sure you’re even capable of love.”
“Ouch. I could be, you know? For the right girl.”
“And who’s the right girl?”
“You.” You want to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but Yeonjun’s breath is hot against your neck, and he leans in to place a single kiss against your sensitive skin. “I can treat you better than any of those other guys, Y/N. Let me show you.”
Fuck it, you think to yourself. He’s here and he’s hot and he’s desperate for you. You turn to face Yeonjun, crashing your lips onto his. He tastes sweet, no doubt from the bubblegum he’s always smacking whenever you’re around.
When he moans into your kiss and grips his hand in your hair, you feel a shockwave in your core. You climb into his lap, his hard-on nestling in between your legs. He groans at the pressure.
“God, you’re so hot,” he gasps in between kisses. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Trust me, I know,” you laugh. “You make it so obvious.”
“I can’t help myself around you, Y/N.” He snakes a hand underneath your skirt, his fingers feeling how he’s already got you soaked through your panties. It takes everything in him not to finish right then and there. “Can I touch you?”
“Not now,” you say, your hand gripping his wrist and pinning it against the couch. Tonight, you’re in charge. “Maybe if you’re good for me, we can do this again.”
“Please,” he sighs as you grind your hips into him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
You never pegged Yeonjun as someone who begs in the bedroom, but you aren’t complaining. You pull away from him, moving off of his lap to beside him, your hand palming his erection through his jeans.
“Fuck, that feels good,” he says, his eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched. You bring your free hand up to his chin, moving his head to face you.
“Open your eyes,” you tell him. “I want you to look at me.”
“I can’t,” he stammers. “I’ll cum if I do.”
“You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so,” you whisper, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. His breathing grows heavier by the second. “Yeonjun. Look at me or I will never let you touch me again.”
His eyes shoot open and he’s not sure how much more he can take. Sure, your body is to die for, but it’s always been your face that he likes the best. Seeing you with messy hair and smudged lipstick, all because of him, is an image he won’t be able to get out of his head for months.
“You sound so pretty for me, baby,” you tell him, moving your hand faster. He could really get used to you calling him that.
By now, he can’t control his moans and tears start to run down his face. All he can do is whine your name over and over in the hopes that you’ll finally give him permission to finish.
As if it weren’t agonizing enough, the front door’s handle starts to jiggle. “Hey, Jun?” Taehyun’s voice calls from outside. “Can you let me in, man? I forgot my key.”
Yeonjun’s eyes go wide at the sound of his roommate. You reach up to cover his mouth. “Be quiet, Junie. You don’t want Taehyun to hear you, do you?”
He shakes his head as you continue palming him through his pants, one of your fingers slipping into his mouth. He moans around it.
Taehyun starts banging on the door. “Dude, are you asleep? Wake up! I need to shower and get to bed.”
You laugh at the nervous look on Yeonjun’s face, cupping his cheek with your free hand and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Cum for me, baby. It’s okay.”
Your words send him over the edge and he’s bucking your hips into your hand just seconds later. He does his best to keep quiet, although not even your kiss is enough to dampen the string of profanities that leave his lips.
When he’s done, he stares at you with sleepy eyes and the most satisfied grin on his face. Both of you look down at the wet spot on his crotch. He’s never going to be able to wear these pants again.
“Go change,” you say, patting his cheek and getting up from the couch. You smooth your hair down and fix your skirt into place. “I’ll get the door.”
Yeonjun knows that every time he looks at you now, he’ll be thinking of coming undone under your touch. He quickly scrambles out of the room before you can let Taehyun in.
“It’s about fucking time, man,” Taehyun scoffs, his eyes locked on his phone. When he looks up, he’s shocked to be greeted by you instead of his roommate. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” you say, smiling at the confused look on his face. “I wanted to tell you about my date.”
“Oh, yeah, that was tonight. Sorry, I picked up a game at the rec center.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him, following him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind you. “Yeonjun kept me company.”
—————-
Taglist: @orangesodafoam @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @niningtori @csbenthusiast @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9
Literally only tagging the people from my taglist that I KNOW are over 18!!!
#tomorrow x together#txt#txt fic#txt fluff#txt imagines#txt x reader#txt angst#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun angst#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun#yeonjun txt#txt yeonjun#txt smut#yeonjun smut
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hmm vaggie name origin idea (au?) with twist of chaggie
where she (as per Adam later) was always in the front of the Exorcist charge, specifically always volunteering for Advance Guard duty (vanguard)
which no one else wanted bc (in this au) it meant being first out of the portal sure- but also having to check the area and secure it (in case any powerful overlord or such got an idea to try anything with an open portal to HEAVEN) and then it meant STAYING PUT until all the other Exorcists were out (the 'guard' part) when the portal could be shut until return time
(PAUSE.... can u imagine, if Sera wanted to wash her hands of the exorcists after the truth about them came out, her sending them and lute on one last extermination mission... and then just... not giving them a way to come back?)
(where was i)
NO WAIT RIGHT so vaggie (currently unnamed exorcist number whatever) she likes things neat, tidy, things done Right, and when other exorcists get pressed into vanguard duty they are LAX AS FUCK ABOUT IT and vaggie can't STAND THAT
Sooooo she ends up volunteering to be the vanguard every time- (to the point that she answers to the title even outside of training or extermination day)
which her sisters think is great for the rest of them buuuuut maybe a sign she's avoiding fighting, looking for an excuse to be late to the extermination, an excuse for lower numbers of kills, maybe a clue she's too weak stomached to stand being in hell
(reason THEY all hate van duty) (NONE of them want to look like they're avoiding aNYTHING)
(vanguard... first.... one.... wings?)
(maybe in this au, the one stripe on her wings is the vanguard's mark)
so they tease her for that- use the word for her all the time now, "hey vanguard!" shouted casually during breaks- shorten it to "Vag" (while laughing)
until vaggie (still technically unnamed exorcist number whatever) answers by settling into training with her sisters and being Efficient As Fuck with her kills once she follows them down to the city- no waste. No second hits. No time spent gloating or tormenting- One strike, one dead sinner. Over and over and over again
she starts coming back with record bodycounts while STILL volenteering to babysit the portal, and now vanguard isn't a shit role and sign of cowardice, it's a flex
(or that's how her sisters see it anyway)
a way of saying "i can kill more in less time that you can, even when you get a head start" and at THAT point they're laughing WITH her ABOUT her body count,
now it's "Vaggie" bc its a nickname, only to her it's also just her NAME and her sisters are proud of her for it-
so naturally they point her out to Adam. hype her up, show her off- look at this-! the new girl is one of the best we've ever had- and he's stoked at her numbers
(Lute, expressionless, less stoked seeing another exorcist getting so much attention and getting so close to- or beating- her own records- Lute the reason Adam didn't hear about this before, devoted to her role as Adam's second in command and watching with sharp eyes as someone else gets singled out and praised instead-)
Adam, wondering out loud what Vaggie's name is as he looks her over.
Vaggie going to answer "Sir, my name is-" getting casually cut off "Ah-bup-bup! I'm thinking of one, chill for a sec."
bc of course Adam loves leaving his mark on stuff
and she's one of HIS girls after all
she stands at attention while he gives her a new name "VAGINA! After the BEST THING EVER since that's what you are, huh girl? Best sinner slayer we've EVER had, WOOO!" (Lute, not joining in the woo-hoos) and Vaggie's sisters cheer and shove her, grinning,
only they stop calling her "Vaggie" except on extermination day-
but to herself, Vagina isn't her name.
It's just a stamp of approval from her commanding officers. Inside, she never stops being Vaggie. The Vanguard. First one out the gate, keeping an eye on things, making sure it goes smoothly for her sisters
(the mixed feelings of feeling the most like herself on extermination day, finally getting to hear her name again- and the frustration of watching her sisters treat their duty like some game)
(but they taught her and trained with her and cheered for her, and so she'll finish off the sinners they maim and if her mask feels suffocating sometimes and never grins the way her sisters' do as they cull the sinful hoards of hell, well, she'll just take it off and take a breath and get back to killing, she'll remember how they also smile and salute while flying past her on the way home afterwards- proud of her, proud of her)
Vaggie is the exorcist who made THEM, not Adam, proud
(up until she isn't one of them anymore)
(but she was once)
she was and always will HAVE been that, the women who wanted to make sure her sisters and heaven were both safe well guarded from harm-
that's the same woman who couldn't kill a child
and who fell in love with demon with a heart kinder than any angel's
it's Vaggie that Charlie meets, not any girl of Adam's.
maybe also it's Charlie who someday hears, in quiet voice years later, in a rebuilt hotel watching cannibals clean up the last of their dead exorcist meals-
maybe she hears Vaggie whisper how she never let herself hope but still also always stupidly wished, deep down, that she could be the vanguard to her former sisters again-
the first one of them to turn on heaven, the one to clear the way and get things ready so the rest could someday follow...
....and maybe Charlie hugs her, hearing this, as they watch the blood of Vaggie's dead sisters getting dabbed delicately away like golden pasta sauce as the cannibals finish dinner-
maybe Charlie hugs her harder and closer knowing what it's like to still care about people who aren't good... and then to have have your heart ripped out watching them die, on heaven's command, nothing you can do to stop it, them just gone forever right before your eyes-
before you ever got your chance to help them. to save them
(Charlie would promise that they'll try anyway)
(and sure "those angels minds are hard to change", she knows how true that is now.... but....as far as she's concerned....)
(Vaggie being there with her is more than enough hope for anyone)
#hazbin hotel#vaggie#chaggie#exorcist angels hazbin hotel#lute hazbin hotel#adam hazbin hotel#vanguard vaggie au idea thingy#van-guard#VAn-Guard#vanguard -> vag -> Vaggie#the thought popped into my head and then this happened#le shrug
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Passenger / Chapter 6
Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust
Wyoming (Part Three)
[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]
Chapter Summary: Charlie strikes a deal with the mechanic.
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Word Count: 7.3k+
Content / Warnings: yearning, slow burn, horny thoughts, food mention, eating, handcuffs, one bed, shower, dog grogu, guns
Notes: None really. Hope you like it, thank you for reading!
A bell chimes when Din pushes open the door to Giddyup Auto, and again when he lets it swing shut behind you.
It’s just as cluttered inside the shop as it is outside. Pornographic magazines have been stacked alongside NAPA catalogs and tattered notepads on top of tool boxes. Promotional branding from popular auto parts manufacturers patch the steel walls, occasionally broken up by snarky signs that read things like KWITCHERBITCHIN AVE and I CAN FIX ANYTHING EXCEPT STUPID.
Country music crackles from blown speakers at the back of the shop, echoing off the tall ceiling. The rough, strained sound blends horribly with a high-pitched whir coming from beneath a 1989 Dodge Ram 250.
Din inhales the scent of motor oil and metal shavings. Adolescent nostalgia wells up in his chest like pride, some vague understanding of what it means to be a man. The responsibility of maintenance. Caretaking and custodianship.
He catches a glimpse of his adoptive father wringing his hands with an oil-soaked rag while rattling off the basic components of an internal combustion engine. Then he blinks it away.
Out of the corner of his eye, you adjust your grip on the wriggling dog, slipping one hand beneath his bottom and the other across his chest. Grogu huffs at the intrusion, but once he’s steadied to a higher vantage point, he seems pleased. His ears stand at attention, jowls sealed shut, the tip of his snout twitching with curiosity.
Both you and the dog look around the garage with the same kind of wide-eyed wonder. Two explorers ready to investigate this whole new world. Din leads the way deeper into the automotive bay, following the shrill grinding sound to the old rusted-out truck.
When he comes to a halt, so does the noise, then Paul slides out from under the truck on a creeper.
“Hey there! Sorry, I didn’t hear y’all come in,” he gestures to the impact wrench in his hand as he sets it down.
“Hi, Paul,” you greet him with a cheerful smile.
Rising to his feet, he beams, “Miss Charlie, how’re you today?”
The twinkle in his bright eyes makes Din feel uneasy. Strands of gray streak his dark beard and pepper his slicked-back hair. Hard-earned wrinkles crease his face. He’s twice your age at least, and Din can’t quite determine whether his intentions are cordial or flirtatious.
Either way, you hardly seem to mind. You perk up at the attention, taking a step towards him as you reply, “Can’t complain. Yourself?”
“Oh, just fine. Annie get y’all set up at the motel?”
“She sure did. It was nice to sleep in a bed for once, y’know, after being on the road for so long. Thank you for recommending it to us.”
“‘Course. Yellow Seed’s been treatin’ you alright?”
“Yeah! We got to poke around a little yesterday. Went and got supper at the Outlaw Saloon, which was good,” you glance at Din and chuckle a little, “The locals didn’t seem too keen on us. Got a few dirty looks, but that’s not surprising.”
Paul laughs at this, crossing his arms as he leans back against the truck, “Well, you know, we small town folks don’t always like outsiders.”
“I’m used to it,” you shrug dismissively, then your face lights up, “But, hey, I talked to the owner and they’re gonna let me play a couple sets tomorrow night if you wanna swing by.”
“No shit?” Paul grins and catches himself, “Pardon my language—”
“It’s fine,” you wave it off.
“Playin’ a few sets at the Outlaw Saloon,” Paul repeats, shaking his head with amusement, “What kinda music you play?”
“I know a little bit of everything. These kinds of gigs, I try to feel out the crowd. I catch a country music kinda vibe around here, so probably some Hank Williams Jr, Alan Jackson, Johnny Cash. Stuff like that,” you tilt your head at him, “Got any requests?”
“Know any Waylon Jennings?”
“Sure, I have a few of his tunes up my sleeve. Any particular song?”
“Surprise me,” he winks.
Din tries to retain his stoic demeanor despite the discomfort writhing beneath his skin. The dog must pick up on this, because he whines at his owner and starts to squirm in your grip.
Struggling with Grogu’s protest, you ask Paul, “Is it ok if I set him down?”
“Go on ahead, darlin’,” Paul tells you, then turns to Din, “How about you? Settling in ok?”
“How much will it cost to fix?”
Paul raises his eyebrows and pushes off the truck, “Right down to brass tacks, huh?”
“He’s not much of a talker,” you smirk as you set the dog on the cement floor and start roaming around the shop, leash in hand.
“I can respect that.” His gaze lingers on your wandering form for a moment longer before he looks at Din and sighs, “Well, I had some luck calling around to a few junkyards lookin’ for salvaged or used parts. Found a good price for what I need. With that ‘n’ labor, it’ll run you twenty-five hundred, long as everything goes smoothly.”
Din weighs the cost against his bank account, factoring in the motel room, gas to get to the next job, and food for a few days. It would run him dry. His stomach tightens and twists. Before he can formulate a response, you chime in.
“Is there any way we can knock that price down?”
Paul crosses his arms across his chest and gives you a sympathetic shrug, “Way it stands, ‘fraid I can’t.”
You nod as you consider this, furrowing your brow at the floor, then look up at him, “What if we make a trade?”
“A trade?” Paul frowns.
“Yeah, or, you know. Some kind of a deal. We scratch your back, you scratch ours.”
Paul’s blue eyes flick between you and Din, “Wha’d you have in mind, sweetheart?”
Din’s first instinct is to shut down the conversation. But when you glance at him as if searching for approval, he doesn’t protest. You turn back to Paul and nod over your shoulder, “I noticed your sign out front is pretty faded. I could paint it if you knock a couple hundred off?”
Paul shifts his weight to one leg and wrinkles his nose. Not sold. You don’t let it deter you.
“I’ve done murals before, so this would be a piece of cake. It looks pretty shabby now, but I can make it,” you smack your lips, “pop. Maybe it’d bring in some more business for you.”
Shaking his head, he smirks at Din, “She’s persistent, ain’t she?”
“She is.”
“I am,” you confirm with a wide, toothy grin, “Whaddaya say? I do the sign, take off $500?“
Paul works his jaw from side to side, then slackens and sticks out his hand, “Five hundred.”
“Plus the cost of supplies,” you add.
“Plus the—” he cuts himself off with an amused chuckle, “You’re somethin’ else. Fine. Five hundred plus costs.”
When you shake his hand, a victorious, blinding smile spreads across your face. The corner of Din’s mouth turns up at the sight. He fails to correct his expression as you take a step back and glance at him. His heart skips in that brief moment where his eyes meet yours, before you drop your gaze to your feet and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Blush rises to your cheeks and neck, rosy splotches that bloom soft and full in his chest.
“Whaddaya think, should $100 do it?” Paul asks.
“I think we can make that work,” you nod, “Do you have paint brushes or rollers? Sandpaper?”
“Reckon I do. Hang tight, I’ll get y’all some cash, ok?”
Once he’s out of earshot, Din studies you, wondering out loud, “Why are you helping me?”
“Rule number ten: Be a stand up tramp,” you shrug, crouching down to scratch Grogu between his ears, “Plus, I don’t know, it just seems like… the right thing to do.”
Your answer perplexes him. He can’t come up with a response other than, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you grin up at him, then rise to your feet and change the subject, “I’m hungry. We should get lunch. And maybe get some groceries, too, so we—er, you don’t have to spend as much on eating out.”
The authority with which you suggest this causes him to chafe. He wants to push back for no reason other than to reclaim the upper hand. Your reasoning is sound, though. It’s not a bad idea.
“We can do that.”
“Yeah?”
He nods.
Your gaze lingers on him for a moment, lips curving into a delicate smile. Something flutters in his stomach, frantic and timid, urging him to put up a wall between you. But he keeps his eyes anchored to yours despite his internal warning bells.
The tight wire of tension slackens as Paul returns, counting a stack of wrinkled bills, “Here you go.”
You step forward to accept the cash, “Perfect. Thank you, Paul.”
“Are y’all gonna be able to carry everything back here, or do you wanna borrow my truck? Might be a little easier that way.”
“Really?” you grin and knit your brows together into a gracious expression, “We were thinking of grabbing lunch and getting some groceries, too. Would that be ok?”
“Fine by me, just bring it back in one piece,” Paul answers, fishing a set of keys from his jumpsuit pocket and handing them to you, “Ford F-150 out front.”
“Thank you, Paul. I—we really appreciate it,” you tell him, then look at Din and raise your eyebrows expectantly.
“Yes, thank you,” Din nods in agreement.
“Don’t mention it,” Paul says, then ambles back to the old rusted-out Dodge, whistling along to some old country song.
Keeping pace at his side as he starts towards the exit, you jangle the keys and ask, “Do you want me to drive?”
“Dream on, kid,” he scoffs, holding his hand out.
“Worth a shot,” you grin and place them in his palm.
“Would it be too predictable to put a horse on the sign?” you ask, frowning at your rough outline, “I feel like there are a lot of places out here that lean into the western motif, so it might be overdone. But the place is literally called Giddyup Auto, so…”
When Din doesn’t respond, you glance up and can’t quite tell if he’s looking at you or something in your general direction.
Stupid goddamn aviators.
“You know, it’s considered polite to take off your hat and sunglasses when you go indoors.”
Again, nothing.
‘Off in lala-land’ if you’ve ever seen it.
You blink at him a few times to no reaction, then raise your voice, “Did you hear me?”
This seems to do the trick.
It’s difficult to explain how you know his eyes are on you when they are. Maybe the microscopic tilt of his head or the twitch of his eyebrows. Mostly though, you would say that his attention carries a force. One minute you’re sitting there wondering if he’s looking at you and then—bam! It hits you. Absolute certainty.
Anyway, he looks at you and asks, “What?”
“Why do you insist on wearing your Unabomber costume all the time?”
He frowns and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand.
“You know, because—Oh for cripes’ sake, nevermind,” you scoff and sit up in your seat, turning your notebook to face him, “Here. Tell me what you think.”
He looks down at your notebook and pulls it closer. As he quietly studies the sketches, discomfort twists your skin raw. Imagining all the criticisms lingering at the tip of his tongue, you can’t stop yourself from speaking preemptively.
“The first one is pretty boring, but I think the font adds a little flair. I’d blend shades of orange for the background to make it stand out and white for the text.” You prop your chin up on the heel of your palm and lean forward, pointing to the second option, “I like the covered wagon as a concept, but it would take me a long time and I’m not sure if it fits the vibe since wagons are kinda slow. The horse is fast, obviously,” you tap the third sketch and shrug, “But, like I said when you so rudely ignored me, the western motif is sort of tired in this neck of the woods.”
Nodding, he comments, “They look… nice.”
Such a way with words.
You stare at him for a moment, waiting for additional input to no avail. Raising your eyebrows, you release a big sigh and fold your legs up into the booth, “‘Nice.’ Ok, sure. Well, let me ask you this: Which one is your favorite?”
After a few seconds of contemplation, he taps the bucking bronco silhouetted over a mountain range, then pushes the notebook back across the table.
“Why that one?”
He shrugs, “It’s called Giddyup Auto.”
Instead of pointing out that you said the same thing earlier, you mutter, “Sure is, big guy,” and flip your notebook to a blank page, then start jotting down a shopping list, “We should get something for the pup while we’re out. I feel bad for leaving him behind.”
You wrinkle your nose at his silence, looking up to confirm that once again, he has drifted away.
Curiosity gets the best of you. You follow his line of sight, craning your neck over your shoulder to see the waitress approaching with a serving tray. Din straightens when she sets a plate in front of him.
“Ok, we have a breakfast platter number two,” she sets another plate in front of you, “And french toast with fruit.” Tucking the tray under her arm, she smiles between you and him, “Anything else I can get for you guys?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” Din tells her, a small smile gracing his lips.
She nods before turning to go, dragging his attention along with her. You watch him watch her, studying his wandering gaze. A grin spreads across your face. When he notices you staring, he immediately becomes defensive.
“What?”
Dead giveaway.
Suppressing a smile, you grab a butter knife and shake your head at your plate, “Nothing.”
“What?” he asks again, this time more pointed.
“I didn’t say anything!”
He scoffs and hunches over the plate to shovel scrambled eggs into his mouth.
After smearing whipped butter on your french toast, you pour syrup over your plate, glancing up at him when you ask, “Do you have a crush on the waitress?”
“No.”
Denial sours the word in the most obvious way.
Raising an eyebrow, you cut your food into bite-sized pieces as you tease, “I didn’t take you for a liar, Din. But I also didn’t take you for the kind of guy who has a soft spot for pretty service workers, so what do I know?”
Of course, he doesn’t say anything. And of course, you decide to push the conversation further.
“I just mean… If you do—you know, like her or whatever—you should ask her for her number. Take her on a date. See if you can’t live a little while you’re holed up in this town.”
“And what am I supposed to do with you in that scenario?”
Twirling a chunk of french toast around on your fork, you shrug, “Maybe she wouldn’t mind your prisoner third wheeling. That’s probably not a red flag, right?”
“Not at all.”
You snort at him and he lets a small smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. It seems to soften the atmosphere, both of you relaxing back in your seats. While chipping away at your food, you ponder a little to yourself, then out loud.
“Suppose your line of work, you don’t go on many dates, do you?”
Frowning at the strip of bacon pinched between his fingers, he tells you, “Not in the traditional sense.”
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering the question, he pops the bacon into his mouth. When he swallows and you’re still staring at him, he shakes his head, “Forget I said anything.”
“Come on, Din,” you meet his flattened expression with a grin, “You so know I won’t let this go. Might as well just spill the beans.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at you like a challenge. You narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head with equal determination.
“‘Not in the traditional sense.’ So you do have romantic or sexual experiences, but society wouldn’t typically deem those experiences ‘dates,’ right?”
He says nothing.
“Hmmm… interesting,” you lean your elbows on the table, studying him, “You seem reluctant to talk about it, which indicates… Maybe you’re ashamed of it? Although, you’re pretty reluctant to talk about everything, so I don’t know how much weight to place on that. But you’re a trucker. Transient. Don’t seem like much of a ‘family man’ to me. So, what… you’ve gotta be a hookup guy or a sex worker guy, right?”
The way he squirms at the question makes your chest tingle.
“It could be both, too. I feel like you would be more of an opportunist than a strategist when it comes to fucking. Am I right?”
His jaw shifts from side-to-side. He glances around before leaning in, “And you’re much different?”
“No, not really.”
Most people would ask follow-up questions or awkwardly segue into a different subject, but not Din. He seems as content with your answer as you are with his. But where he goes back to eating, you feel a loose end rattling at the tip of your tongue and speak it into existence.
“I think… I think people like us don’t lay down roots for anything less than the spectacular,” you search his face, “Right?”
With his fork lifted halfway to his mouth, he pauses to look at you and nod, “This is the way.”
Din brings the shopping cart to halt in the middle of the aisle when you stop to examine jars of preserved nut and fruit spreads lining the shelves.
You pull a big plastic container of generic peanut butter from the lineup and toss it into the cart, “Four dollars, twenty-nine cents.”
He jots down the price in your notebook and adds it to the running total while you wrinkle your nose at the ingredient list of strawberry preserves, then set it next to the peanut butter, “Three sixty-nine. Gotta love that food desert markup. What’re we at?”
“Twenty seven, give or take,” he answers, crossing two items off the list.
“What else we got here?” Sidling up to him, you peek at the paper, “Snacks. Wow, ok past me, very specific.”
When you start walking again, he does too, and he wonders how you can possibly smell so good without the aid of perfumes. While not a definitive scent, it inspires a sensation much like when he’s parched and sets his sights on a glass of ice water. It’s enticing, like your very foundation radiates temptation.
He cannot have this. This thing in his chest, gnawing at his bones, trying to escape. It snaps at the walls when you’re nearby, which is always.
Maybe if he could relieve some of the pressure buckling under his skin it would quiet. But he can’t, so it doesn’t.
It begs and pleads and promises to absolve him of consequence as long as he promises to move a little bit closer, hold his hand to your back a little bit longer—just one more second and I’ll be content. Maybe another. What if you slid your hand around her waist and pulled her body to yours? How would she react? I bet she would like it. I bet if you kissed her she would finally be speechless. Just a taste, please?
He comes to a stop beside you and follows your gaze to the wall of chips. Hundreds of bags in all different sizes and colors, all of them glossy in the fluorescent light.
“Well, big guy. What’s your chip of choice?” you ask without looking at him.
Grinding his teeth together, he shakes his head.
“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Too many of the same goddamn choices,” you step forward to narrow your eyes at a price tag, “Am I crazy or does that say five dollars?”
“It says five dollars.”
“What the fuck, that is obscene. Do we really need chips?”
“Does anyone?”
“I guess not technically,” you sigh and start wandering further down the aisle, so he follows you. “But we don’t have to be so utilitarian about it. Junk food is for the soul, not sustenance. And sometimes the soul needs something salty and crunchy, you know?”
Nodding, he comes to a stop and points to the display of microwave popcorn, “We could get this instead.”
“Six bags for four dollars,” you raise your eyebrows, “Salty, crunchy, and cost efficient. Hell yeah, I’m sold.”
He grabs the box of generic popcorn in question and walks it back to the cart while you meander towards the sweets. When he meets you in front of the cookies, you glance at him, “Original or chewy?”
“Original.”
“Ten four, good buddy.” You grab the blue package of chocolate chip cookies and toss it in the basket, “Do you ever get to say that on your radio? Have a real trucker moment?”
“Yes.”
“Adorable,” you chuckle, catching his gaze for a moment before you look down and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Are you gonna help me with the sign today, or do you have other plans?”
“What do you need help with?”
You exhale through slack lips, then shrug, “Well, today is just prep. I have to scrape off the old paint, sand it down, and prime. It has to dry overnight, but I think I’ll be able to finish the rest tomorrow or the next day if we get up early…” Pausing to chuckle, you shake your head, “Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. What I mean is, you could help me with scraping and sanding. It’s a real bitch and would be easier with your muscle. If—well, you know, only if you want to. You don’t have to or anything…”
“I can do that.”
Your eyebrows draw together as you search his face, “Yeah?”
He nods, “It’s the least I can do.”
As the two of you near the checkout line, a frail woman with closely-cropped white curls shuffles from a back office to the one and only cash register.
“How are we doing this? Splitting it?” you swing the backpack off your shoulder and start rummaging through it, “I should have some money in my wallet. It’s not much, but it should—”
He holds up a hand, “I’ve got it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
That thing in his chest whimpers when you smile at him, big and bright and gap-toothed, sparing him a polite, “Thank you,” before you start unloading the groceries onto the conveyor belt.
Balancing the tips of your toes on the highest ladder rung, you stretch your roller towards the unprimed stripe of sign, but can’t quite reach it.
“Goddamnit,” you mutter, returning all fours to the ladder with a huff, then look back at Din, “Hey, can I borrow your tall?”
Your question bounces off him with no reaction.
Between the visor of his cap and the tablet glued to his face, you can’t quite tell if he’s ignoring you or if he just plain old can’t hear you. All that’s visible is his furrowed brow. So you shimmy down the ladder and set the paint roller in the tray, brushing your hands on your jeans as you approach his lawn chair, waiting for him to notice you.
When the brisk October air nips at your dirt-caked, sweat-soaked skin, you skip closer, tapping your foot against his calf, “Hey.”
He jumps as if broken out of a trance, then raises his eyebrows at you, “What?”
“Can you help me with something?”
His mouth flattens into a straight line. He looks down at the tablet, then turns off the screen and sets it aside to look up at you.
“See the top of the sign, how it’s all shitty still?” you point at the evidence, “Can you get it for me? I can’t reach.”
“Use the big ladder.”
“I didn’t think to grab it before Paul locked up for the night.”
He releases a big dramatic sigh, glancing down at the tablet before rising to his feet. As he passes you the handle of the dog leash, you grin and plop down in the warmed-up lawn chair, “My hero!”
“Uh-huh,” he shakes his head and starts towards the drop cloth.
Beneath the lawn chair, the dog wakes from his nap and tries to follow Din, huffing and puffing when the leash goes taut, then walks back to your feet and sits on your shoelaces. His big satellite ears stand at attention while his person shimmies up the ladder with a roller brush in hand.
The two of you sit there and watch Din with the same level of ardent attention, both perched on the edge of your respective seats, unable to tear your eyes away for a second.
At first you try to tell yourself that you’re not even looking at him, just mapping out the illustration you’ll start tomorrow. But the truth is, it’s hard not to be drawn in by the view. By his panoramic shoulders and muscle-bound arms stretching out the fabric of his flannel as he rolls the brush up and down, back and forth, spreading thick white primer across the freshly smoothed wood…
Despite the waning sunlight and icy gusts spilling off the mountains, heat bubbles up to the surface of your skin.
You know that once he’s finished, you’ll go back to the motel for the rest of the night. Given the thick layer of grime you each accumulated throughout the day, showers will likely be in order. Which, of course, means stripping down to nothing while he’s in the bathroom with you. And vice versa, probably.
Your imagination wanders to his naked body and how it would feel against yours. What if you argued in favor of water conservation, asking him to join you in the shower? What if he agreed? How would he look at you without those sunglasses covering his eyes? How would he touch you if morals weren’t involved?
Din climbs down off the ladder and walks over, taking off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead, “Is that it for today?”
He replaces the hat and takes off his aviators, cleaning the lenses with his shirt as he meets your gaze. The full force of his big brown eyes turns your saliva tacky and makes your heart stutter. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.
Fuck, did he ask you something?
“Is that—? Oh, um,” you clear your throat, then nod, “Yep, that should do it. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Flicking his eyes around your face, he nods, then turns back to the drop cloth, where he starts consolidating all the painting supplies.
With his legs stretched out across the perimeter of the bathroom’s tile flooring, back resting against the tub, Din types ‘Tom Boucheron’ into the search bar of a Portland-based web forum.
The search yields 83 matches. He starts sifting through the results, scrolling past subject lines that indicate general complaints about property management like rising rent and evictions and gentrification. Every once and a while he comes across subject lines that take on a more conspiratorial tone, though, mentioning the weight of his influence or his ties to police presence throughout the city. When he finds these posts, he clicks on the thread, copying and pasting the urls into a separate document.
He can delve deeper into these later, once he’s able to better focus. But right now, with the roaring cascade of the shower behind him and your enthusiastic rendition of Tiny Dancer by Elton John, this mechanical sorting is the maximum concentration he can muster.
Squinting at the screen, he wipes away the fog forming on his tablet. Moisture reclaims the area just as soon as it clears. He sighs and turns off the device when your vocals start ramping up to a volume he can’t ignore.
“—But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you, and you can hear meeee, when I say softlyyyy, slooowly—”
“Are you almost done?”
“You ruined the best part.”
“We’re going to get a noise complaint.”
You scoff, then he hears the thunk of you turning off the water. In his peripheries, your arm stretches out from behind the shower curtain to snatch the folded white towel off the toilet lid.
A few seconds later, the curtain pulls back and you announce, “I’m decent.”
He climbs to his feet while you step out of the tub, one hand securing the bath towel around your body, the other grabbing his arm for balance. Once sure-footed on the pink tiles, you let go and murmur, "Sorry,” before opening the door and padding off into the motel room.
Grogu runs into the bathroom to investigate as Din slips out and takes a seat at the foot of the bed. He tries to anchor his vision to the floor, but finds his gaze drifting towards your movements out the corner of his eye. Humming to yourself, you comb your fingers through dripping wet hair and pull a few articles of clothing from your backpack.
“Are you gonna hop in too?”
His eyes tick to yours as you turn around, clutching a pile of clothing to your chest.
“Because, you know… if you need me to be in there with you or whatever, that’s fine,” you cast your gaze to the floor with a shrug.
He studies your bashful demeanor for a moment before responding, “I’ll have you sit in there with me once you get dressed.”
Without looking up, you give him a nod and walk over to the bathroom. As you put on clothing, Din uses all his will power to stare at the ground.
“What do you wanna do after that? We could watch a movie.”
His eyes cheat to the mirror on the wall, where he watches your reflection wrestle with a t-shirt. He catches a glimpse of your bare back before returning to the floor and clearing his throat.
“I thought you weren’t much of a movie person.”
“Well,” your footsteps soften onto the carpet, then your voice is closer, “If you have a better idea of how to pass the time in a seedy roadside motel, I’m open to suggestions.”
He meets your heated gaze long enough for something to spark deep within his belly. The air between your body and his thickens with a palpable magnetism. His lips part to respond, but only one suggestion plays over and over again in his head. The mad yapping of that thing in his chest.
Before he can say or do something stupid, though, you look away and start fidgeting, “So, I’m dressed. Are you ready?”
Swallowing his tight throat, he pushes himself to his feet and locks eyes with you, “Go sit where I just was and put your head between your knees.”
“Wow, you’re taking this very seriously.”
“Let’s just get it over with, ok?”
You roll your eyes a little, but acquiesce.
Din trails behind you into the bathroom, shooing the dog from the room before closing the door. When he turns around, he finds you curled up on the floor, back pressed to the tub basin with your face buried in your knees.
“Like this?”
“Perfect. Stay like that, I won’t take long.”
For some reason he expected you would stay quiet while he disrobed, but you just continue talking as if you were accompanying him on any other menial task.
“I think it’s funny how you have me do this whole thing so I don’t see your dick, but when I need privacy, the most you give me is a turned back.”
Din glances at the top of your head while unbuckling his utility belt, then turns to spread it out across the bathroom counter, “That’s not the only reason I’m having you do this.”
“Then why?”
“Are you familiar with the concept of involuntary captivity?”
While you scoff and most likely try to come up with a rebuttal, he shucks off his flannel overshirt, then unfastens his shoulder holster and lines it up on the counter below the outspread belt. His hands work without much thought as he systematically unloads all three of his pistols. Eject the magazine, count the rounds, check the chamber.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Ignoring the question, he moves the unloaded guns and utility belt to a high shelf over the toilet, then pulls off his undershirt.
“Can you at least confirm you’re not gearing up to murder me right now?”
If he wanted to tear your frayed edges, he could mention that you were begging him to do exactly that less than 48 hours ago. But since you’re somehow more irritating when in a foul mood, he doesn’t.
“If I was going to kill you I would have already.” He turns on the shower and takes a step back to make sure you’re still covering your eyes, then takes off his pants.
“Would you do it if you had to?”
The question gives him pause as he pulls back the shower curtain.
“Why would I have to?”
“I don’t know, because they asked you to do it.”
He frowns, “I wouldn’t do it just because someone asked me to.”
“You wouldn’t?”
The hopeful air in your voice eats at his stomach lining. Instead of answering or clarifying what he meant, he steps into the shower.
“Ok, but let’s say they gave you a good reason, and you were going to do it… kill me, I mean. How would you do it?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Why not?”
He shakes his head and grabs a bar of soap off the shower ledge and starts to lather it against his skin.
“Are you ignoring me or thinking?”
“Ignoring you.”
“You know, I appreciate the honesty.“ Then, after a few seconds: “I promise not to leak your trade secrets, big guy. Come on, how would you do it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
With this, you go quiet.
Silence fills the bathroom for the remainder of his time in the shower, but Din’s thoughts are as loud and intrusive as your questions.
His mind becomes populated with scenarios in which you would end up in the sights of his pistol. Under what circumstances would he pull the trigger?
He imagines you stealing from him. He imagines trying to escape. He imagines it coming down to you or the money. He even goes so far as to imagine it coming down to you or him.
But each time the imaginary him goes to take aim, he falters.
While Din tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave, you survey the Room 10’s VHS collection.
“Ok let’s see,” you tilt your head sideways and read the titles, “Aladdin, Batman Returns, Twister—”
“You choose.”
Beeps sound from the microwave, then it hums to life.
You pull Aladdin from the shelf and admire the familiar cover art. Little flakes of deteriorated plastic break off the exterior and stick to your fingertips when you trace the title. You wince and mumble an apology to the inanimate object before prying it open to pull out the tape.
After feeding it to the VCR, you press rewind and hold up the cover to Din, “Ever seen this?”
When he takes a step closer to examine it, you note the details you’re not normally privy to. His damp curls and the heat of his pulse. Mostly, though, you become fixated on his eyes. Those devastatingly dark and warm eyes. His heavy brow and hooded lids, all the lines of age creeping out from the corners.
He meets your gaze and you swear you hear the snap of his full attention locking onto you when he frowns, “Can’t say I have.”
Somewhere far away, the popcorn starts popping. You feel yourself succumbing to his gravitational pull, subconsciously drifting towards him, and can’t really remember if you had a point in mind when you asked.
“It’s-it’s good,” you nod, letting your eyes drift to his mouth for a moment before you shrug, “I mean, from what I remember at least. I was obsessed with it when I was a kid. It drove my grandma crazy cuz I’d make her watch it on repeat…”
It doesn’t really register how much information you’re disclosing until his eyes get all wide and doughy, at which point you take a step away from him and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, um, anyway. I liked it.”
He chuckles, causing you to grin, “What?”
“Nothing.”
His face tells you it’s definitely not nothing. It’s something if you’ve ever seen it. Something so gooey and hot it makes you ache. Dangerous, that’s what it is.
The VCR clicks and shifts gears, then the TV lights up with disclaimers. Taking it as a sign from above, you start back towards the bed and tease, “I totally get why you wear the sunglasses, by the way. Your eyes give everything away.”
Rather than admit you’re right, Din raises an eyebrow at you, then turns around to pull the microwave open before the timer reaches zero. While you slide under the covers and prop the flimsy pillows up behind your back, he pries open the steaming hot bag of popcorn and brings it to you.
“Thanks.”
He grunts in response and disappears into the bathroom for a few seconds, returning with the shiny metal handcuffs, “Lights on or off?”
“Off.”
When the lights go out, the dog jumps onto the bed, spinning around a few times before curling up into an adorable white ball. Din tosses the cuffs to your side as he crawls into bed beside you. Once you think he’s settled in, you offer him some popcorn, which he accepts.
“Do I have to put them on right now?” you ask, in reference to the cuffs.
He frowns and shakes his head, “I can wait until you’re ready.”
Nodding, you study his profile in the dim illumination from the TV. You don’t even realize you’re staring at him like a full-on creep until he says, “Stop giving me goo-goo eyes and watch the movie.”
Embarrassment flares up your neck and cheeks. You scoff, “I am not giving you goo-goo eyes,” and wriggle deeper under the covers, diverting your gaze to the TV.
I will not look at him for the rest of the night, you vow. Even if he asks me to, or talks to me, I won’t look at his stupid face until the sun comes up tomorrow.
You almost fulfill the vow, too.
Well… almost might be an exaggeration, but you make it to the end credits and that’s further than you really believed you could make it.
With the motel room all dark save for the faintest glow from the credits rolling onscreen, he asks, “Are you awake?”
You remind yourself of your promise and try to ignore him. If you say something, you’ll look at him. And if you look at him, you lose.
“Charlie?” he nudges you.
Fuck.
“Yeah,” you glance over, and of course you catch his eyes, “Is it handcuff time now?”
He nods, almost apologetically.
“Can I use the bathroom first?”
“Go ahead.”
When you exit the bathroom and turn off the light, you find the room cloaked in darkness. The only reference point you have is the red glow of 9:12 on the alarm clock. You stretch your arms in front of you and start taking cautious steps towards it.
“Oh my god, I can’t see shit.”
“Want me to turn the lamp on?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Your fingertips brush up against the bedspread, then you follow the alarm clock beacon to the side table.
“Here.”
His hand finds yours in the darkness. You grab ahold of it, trying your very hardest not to dwell on the warmth of his palm against yours as he gently guides you. When you finally settle between the sheets, he releases your hand. You almost wish he didn’t.
“Ready?”
“Sure.”
He closes the cold heavy steel around your wrist, then his. For a while, neither of you move. Anxious energy buzzes beneath your skin. You close your eyes in an attempt to trick yourself into being tired, but it only makes you notice how fucking quiet it is.
Resigning from your motionless state, you start wriggling around in an attempt to get comfortable. Din is accommodating while you do this, letting his wrist ragdoll wherever you drag it. You lie facing the wall for a while, fondling the knife you have tucked under the pillow. It doesn’t feel right. You flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Same problem.
Then, when you can’t stand it anymore—the dark, the quiet, the nerves—you roll on your side facing him.
“Din.”
“What?”
“I can’t fall asleep.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Din.”
“What?”
“I said I can’t fall asleep.”
“I heard you the first time. What do you expect me to do about it?”
You open your mouth to ask him to fuck you, but nerves rob your tongue.
“Just talk to me for a while.”
“About what?”
“I dunno, whatever you want.” You tuck your cuffed hand beneath your cheek and scoot a little closer.
His silence holds the weight of contemplation, so you prompt him, “What would your genie wishes be?”
“Hang on, let me think.”
A few quiet seconds go by before he clears his throat and rolls on his side to face you. The back of his cuffed hand rests against yours, which brings you a shred of comfort.
“Financial security. Property rights to some land and a house, something out in the country.”
“Like a farm?”
“Something like that. Self-sustainable and off the grid. Maybe get a few animals and so I could live off the land.”
“That’s the dream, right? Fuck off to the middle of nowhere and not have to rely on anyone?”
“Yeah, that’s the dream.”
You hum, then ask, “What’s wish number three?”
“I… I’d rather not say.”
Your gut instinct is to push back, but you resist the urge and instead tell him, “That’s fine.”
“Thank you.”
There’s enough sincerity in his voice that a tinge of guilt twists in your belly, and you feel obligated to bring up an earlier conversation.
“I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you to answer me when you were in the shower. Sometimes I don’t know when it’s time to shut the fuck up and let it be.”
“Don’t worry about it, kid.”
“Ok,” you wiggle around a bit and manage to find the perfect position, then close your eyes and release a content sigh.
“What are yours?” he asks.
“Mmmm… you know, I’ve thought a lot about this question—” A yawn swells in your chest, cutting you off. When it passes, your limbs feel heavy and warm. You continue, “I’d wish for the genie to be free.”
He lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “And what else, world peace? An end to climate change?”
“I hear your snark, sir, and I don’t appreciate it. No, I wouldn’t wish for world peace or the end of climate change. I wouldn’t wish for anything. Tricky bastard can keep his wishes, I make my own luck.”
“Tricky bastard, huh?”
Another yawn takes over. Lethargy seeps through your body, making your worlds come out slow and murmured.
“Yeah, y’know… all the, umm… the fine print. Too many strings attached, I don’t trust ‘em.”
“You sound tired.”
You hum, snuggling deeper into your pillow, “You sound tired.”
“Get some sleep, kid. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Mmmkay,” you mumble, “Sweet dreams, Din.”
#din djarin x you#din djarin x ofc#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin fic#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#passenger
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Night Owl vs Early Bird sleepover edition
#my art#trolls#dreamworks trolls#trolls 3#trolls floyd#trolls john dory#trolls branch#trolls au#technically#but i feel like this counts for outside of the au too so#only gets one tag#i am once again making a chowder reference#do i watch chowder#no#have i watched chowder#also no#do i know the memes from chowder#yes yes i do#and so the memes you will get#not to say i disliked the show then or now#i just never had interest in it when it was on#and i do not have the energy to engage in it rn#but its cute i like the art style and the joke lol#there will be more references coming that are more au focused lol#anyway i feel like after trolls 3 floyd just kind of hops from house to house spending time with his bros#but he has a very different sleep schedule from them all and is more of a night owl than an early bird#so he stays up all night#and JD is def an early bird so hes just trying to sleep while floyds yapping#so he gets sent back to branch who i feel like shifts between early bird and night owl#dude def has sleeping issues
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could we get some spruce? hes Such a character and needs a whole lotta love
I love Spruce! He and Chip have known each other for so long, and count each other like brothers. Spruce misses their old cabin that they built together,,
#Spruce misses working at D. Foresting and Logging Co.; he misses Chip#In our AU both Spruce and Chip worked with D. Foresting and Logging Co. for quite a bit#Although Chip worked has a consultant (safety primarily) over with S.C.R.E.W.; B.E.L.T.; and C.R.A.N.K. as well#Spruce is 9 years older than Chip and counts him like a little brother#Spruce is 55 and Chip is 46 rn in our AU; they've known each other since Spruce with 27 and Chip was 18#So quite a bit of history between the two of them#Spruce works with logging and deforsting with Alton and the both don't know much about what goes on inside C.O.G.S. Inc#since their positions are outside#Spruce has been told by Misty about what C.O.G.S. Inc has done to Chip... and what the firing process is like inside#Spruce misses Chip.. he wishes he never took up the offer and winding up cursing Chip too#imagionary rambles#I think imma write lore and stuff in the tags instead of the main posts#I feel better doing so idk why xD#I hope that's okay!#ttcc#toontown corporate clash#toontown: corporate clash#toontown#spruce campbell#treekiller#chip revvington#chainsaw consultant
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours
synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his
— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)
— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!
— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys
satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.
“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.
“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”
“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.
“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”
“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.
he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”
“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”
“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”
“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”
“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”
“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.
“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”
“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”
“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.
even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.
“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”
“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.
satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.
he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.
you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.
so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?
and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.
you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.
satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.
he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.
“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”
“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”
“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”
“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.
everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.
because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.
“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”
he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”
“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”
“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”
“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”
“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”
his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.
you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.
“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.
“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.
“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”
“got it,” you nod furiously.
“got what?”
“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”
“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”
“just what?” he raises a brow.
“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.
he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.
your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.
“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”
“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”
“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”
“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”
“say you love me,” he demands.
it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”
and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.
and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.
satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.
“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”
“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”
he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.
it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.
he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.
satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.
when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.
“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”
“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.
“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”
and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.
but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.
it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.
and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.
“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”
“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”
“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”
“how long do you plan on being mine?”
“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”
“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”
“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”
“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”
“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.
“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”
dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this
#teepods.writings#thirstee!#rich boy! au#fics.#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo smut#gojo angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Curiosity Killed The Cat
prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.1k+
note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.
warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.
browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.
You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.
Rooted.
But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.
You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.
This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.
You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?
Curiosity, indeed.
Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...
"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."
"And the jalapeños?"
"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."
"Cream cheese?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."
Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."
"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"
"Lemme pick you up."
"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."
He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"
"Let's do a white tonight, please."
"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "
"Hang on," you pleaded.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"
"We haven't been to Paris in months."
You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."
Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."
"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"
"So, is that a yes?"
"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"
"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"
"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."
"I'll bring the camera."
"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"
"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.
"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"
"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"
There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "
"It's 15," he growled.
"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."
"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "
"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."
"Don't hurt her - "
"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."
The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.
He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).
For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.
"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."
You sniffled, unable to respond.
He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"
You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."
The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."
"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."
"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."
You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.
At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.
"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.
"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"
You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.
Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.
And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.
You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.
Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.
Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.
So now... To hear this... You were devastated.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.
You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.
"She's different, man."
"How so?" Sam wondered.
"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "
"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.
"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."
"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.
"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."
"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."
"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"
Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"
"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."
"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."
"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.
"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."
"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."
"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"
There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.
So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."
"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"
You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.
"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.
"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"
"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."
"Peach - "
"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.
"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"
"Sure."
Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"
You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.
Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest.
Got shopping done on Amazon.
Browsed through Target's online selection.
Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade.
Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.
Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?
You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"
"Out with Nat," you eased.
He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"
"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."
His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."
"I know."
"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.
And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.
When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."
The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.
You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.
Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.
Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.
Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.
After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.
"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.
"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.
"What?"
"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"
"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."
"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"
"About...?"
"Me."
"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."
Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.
"Huh?" Nat wondered.
"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.
"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."
Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"
"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"
"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."
"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.
"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."
"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."
"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."
"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."
"They can take it."
"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"
"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.
"Bucky," she growled.
He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."
"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."
"Why lie, then?"
"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."
"No shit."
"Well, did you get into a fight?"
"No."
"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"
He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."
"You had to do something."
"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."
Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"
Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."
"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."
"I didn't mean - "
"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."
Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"
"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"
Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.
The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.
Clingy...
You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...
His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.
When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"
You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.
He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."
"I'm here."
"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You. You're what's wrong."
"What the fuck does that - "
"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."
You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.
"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "
"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."
"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."
You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "
"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."
You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."
"It's not."
"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."
He nodded, "What else can I do?"
"Nothing - "
"Peach."
You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"
"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.
"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"
"All right... Sure, okay..."
"And face masks."
He sighed, "Okay."
"And mani-pedis."
"Baby."
"You said you were making it up to me, right?"
He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."
"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."
"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."
"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."
"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."
You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.
Felt okay.
Appeared okay.
And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.
requesting rules and masterlist
Marvel masterlist
Clingy Baby collection masterlist
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#marvel#marvel x reader#marvel au#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky au#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky x you#mafia au#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes hurt/comfort
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cherry — jjk
Jungkook has a crush on you and he does everything to conquer your heart (like eating your pussy whenever and wherever he feels like it).
⚡︎ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
⚡︎ genre: friends with benefits to lovers, college au, smut
⚡︎ word count: 2.9k
⚡︎ warnings: pussy drunk jk because there's no way he wouldn't be, jk's a simp, they're kinda corny but whatever i like that about them, public sex, unprotected sex, oral (f & m), cunnilingus, handjob, overstimulation, cum eating.
a.n.: jk in a tank + hooded jacket has me acting up bruh, quick put me in jail ‼️
literally wrote this in one night send help. as always, don't thank me 💋 please, tell me if you liked it or not 🫶
"Stop..." You whine, gripping his hair in your fists. "Jungkookie!" You insist even more as you try to push his head away from the area between your legs, but Jungkook doesn't budge an inch. You squirm around and cry pathetically, but it doesn't alert him at all.
He keeps licking and slurping until no arousal is left, but more always comes out of your hole, so he continues and continues... Oh, you wonder how this man can be so hungry even after eating the whole plate he ordered. You told him to not follow you into the bathroom, but Jungkook never listens, does he?
You pull on his black locks and the only answer you receive is a disapproval grunt from him. You sob, so overwhelmed and tired, but you can't deny how good his tongue feels on your naked core.
He already got two orgasms out of you, one with his fingers patting gently your sweet spot and the other by sucking avidly on your clit. You don't remember which one came first and maybe they both happened at the same time. You don't really know.
You're so overstimulated, but his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud have you over the edge again. It hurts badly good. Does it even make sense? Whatever, it makes sense to you.
You two hooking up in a bathroom while your friends are waiting outside is bad, while having Jungkook's head between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man is good. A little too good.
You place a hand behind you on the counter, the other holding tightly his hair in your fist, not caring if you pull too harshly. If his scalp stings, it's in no comparison to the heavy pulsations in your clit.
"Jungkook, fuck," you curse, throwing your back against the wall, just beside the mirror. "God, this is too much!" You yelp and close your legs, pushing his head away from your drenched pussy.
He doesn't fight back and he peeks out from between your thighs, looking up at you. Your heart skips a beat when you see his face and how messy he looks because of you.
His lips and chin are glistening in your juices, tongue darting out to lick them clean. Some of his curls are broken, hair tousled around, and you really can tell you were pulling on them seconds ago. Just the thought that his face was buried between your legs, insanely making out with your cunt, makes your stomach clench.
How can he be so passionate about something that isn't even his? He's really trying hard to make you fall in love with him and you have to admit he's doing good so far. If dating Jungkook means receiving head everyday you might stop rejecting him and consider letting him have a chance.
But you don't feel like it right now, even though he's treating you like a real princess. Being chased is really fun, you're about to become addicted to that treatment.
"Just a little bit more, okay, baby? Just another one, let me do that, please," he begs, but in the end he always does whatever he wants to you. You rarely say no to him and his filthy mouth, and even if you would say no, you doubt he would listen.
"My clit will fall out," you sigh, so weak against his pleas. Nonetheless, you slowly pull your legs apart, revealing your core to him again, totally at the mercy of his insatiable hunger.
He looks at your crotch, pouting slightly, showing a bit of compassion. But him having pity for you doesn't mean he'll stop, oh no, not at all.
"Don't say that," he scolds, staring at your swollen clit. "It'll feel really good, I promise, baby," he coos and you can only believe him. He softly blows on your sensitive bud, making you flinch, and a smug smirk appears on his face.
"Okay..." You capitulate, gasping when his mouth finds its spot on your pussy a second time.
On the other hand, there are your nipples, hard and puffy, wanting Jungkook's attention badly. You wish he would focus on something else than your cunt, but he's stubborn and when he wants something, he has it.
You play with your nipples through the material of your dress since you decided to not wear a bra today. You pinch and pull on them, moaning sweetly as the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens with Jungkook's ministrations.
His strong and veiny hands hold up your thighs while he enters and exits your pussy with his sturdy tongue, his big nose brushing against your clit so deliciously.
You can't believe he uses his nose voluntarily, actually knowing it's doing something, unlike most men who literally have no idea what they are doing with their hands and mouth. Jungkook is so passionate about cunnilingus, you're lucky to have him, honestly.
"Close," you warn him hurriedly, scrunching your eyes shut as you feel your high approaching really soon. It's going to be intense, you sense it. It burns in your belly, it twists and it tightens, making you go crazy over Jungkook's mouth. "Fuck, Kookie, please!"
You rub your pussy in his face and he groans deeply, appreciating your enthusiasm for his incredible skills. He hears you and fastens the pace of his tongue, moving his head from side to side, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your orgasm shoots through you and you moan out your pleasure, cumming hard on Jungkook's tongue. He hums contently as your thighs shake beside his head, his hand palming your soft flesh, leaving beautiful marks behind.
You come down from your high, letting out a long sigh, totally pleased with what just happened. He licks you clean, collecting your arousal on his tongue and drinking it as if it was pure water.
He stands up when he's finished, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You look absolutely dead, which is understandable after Jungkook just forced three orgasms out of your poor body.
He looks satisfied, and you wonder if he's still hungry. He probably is, which would be insane, but what's not crazy with this man.
He doesn't waste time before he's kissing you sensually, tasting yourself on his tongue, fighting for dominance as you let him have it. After all, you're too tired to fight for anything.
Though you're exhausted, the bulge in his pants catches your attention. He presses it against you and you feel it really clearly, erected and hard just for you.
You break the kiss, trying to catch your breath as you slide off the countertop. "What do we do about that?" You purr, sneaking a hand between your two bodies and reaching his hard cock trapped in his jeans.
He hisses, grabbing your wrist as if to remove your hand, but he keeps it there, even though he's really sensitive. "We leave it as it is," he says seriously and you frown, a pout forming on your lips.
"Oh, don't be a gentleman, Kook," you reply quickly, determined to return the favour. "Let me suck your dick, please. I'll be such a good girl," you insist and he can't refuse you.
"I'm all yours, then," he grins, letting go of your wrist.
You push him against the nearest wall and you drop on your knees instantly. Your bones hitting the floor tile isn't gentle, but you'll suffer through any pain if it means sucking this pretty man's dick. Right, maybe you're a little whipped for Jungkook, but that doesn't mean anything. Or does it...?
You stroke him over his pants, feeling his length and his girth under all those pieces of clothes. You extend your arm to reach the zipper of his hooded jacket, tugging it down open. You look up at him while doing so, noticing his tongue toying with his lip piercing. He's focused on your movements, watching your hands on him as if it's a movie, wanting to remember each second of it.
You go under his white tank top, running your delicate fingers over his abs, loving the feeling of his muscles under your palm. They tense a little bit at your contact and you can't help but smile, enjoying how much Jungkook isn't indifferent to your touch at all.
"Stop playing," he breathes out, wanting you to get your hands on what's really aching right now.
"I'm sorry," you apologize in a low tone, even though you don't really feel bad for him. He gave you three orgasms one after the other without listening to your complaints, didn't he?
You finally free his cock out, this one springing out excitedly, standing tall against his stomach. Jungkook releases a breath of relief, burying his tattooed fingers in your hair by reflex. You don't mind the pulling, you love it, in fact. It tells you he's enjoying himself and it reminds you he still has control over your actions.
"You know what happens to bad girls, sweetheart," he says and it sounds like a warning. A quite exciting warning, you won't lie. "Make me proud and act good," Jungkook orders from above, your eyes up on him as you nod your head in response.
Your gaze shifts down to his hard cock, slightly curved with a vein along it. You lick your lips, now understanding the hunger Jungkook felt when he had your pussy in his face. The eagerness to please him is real.
You wrap your fingers around him, liking how stiff he feels under your palm, and put his leaking tip into the warmth of your mouth. "Ah, fuck," he curses under his breath, his head rolling back and hitting the wall behind. He closes his eyes, feeling every inch of his length that enters your mouth. "So fucking good."
As he praises you like you're nothing less than a goddess, you swallow his dick, exactly the way he likes it, the way he showed you. You breathe through your nose, Jungkook being specially big for your mouth, but you surely won't give up so soon.
You said you'll pay him back and you stick to your words. Especially after those fantastic orgasms he gave you tonight.
You palm gently his balls — which he's really sensitive to — while you start bobbing your head over him. Your eyes are quick to water and you blink to pry the tears away, unbothered if your makeup gets smudged. You hear deep moans and groans from Jungkook, telling how good you're being.
You keep your tongue flat underneath him and hollow your cheeks to maximize his pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding your head over his cock as he watches it disappear and reappear between your lips.
He's entirely coated in your spit, length glistening under the bathroom's lights as you bounce your head over him. The situation feels really filthy and the fact that you're in a restaurant, your friends probably wondering what's taking you both so long, is making everything more arousing.
Jungkook didn't even hesitate when he discreetly followed you to the toilet, locking the door before sneaking his large hands under the skirt of your dress. You've let him touch you, let him sit you down on the sink counter, let him slide your panties off. And you don't regret it.
You're even grateful he followed you because now you have to listen to his beautiful moans like it's a melody and suck his dick like it's a cherry lollipop — your favourite.
"Let me... Let me," he rasps out, swallowing to ease his dried throat. You glance up at him when you hear him begin to talk, wondering what he has to say. "Ask you out on a date," he finishes and the lopsided smile on his face has your stomach fluttering.
You pull him out with a 'pop', stroking his wet cock as you collect your thoughts. Is he really asking you out right now? As you're sucking the soul out of him?
"Aren't we already on a date?" You wonder, knowing it's not the answer he wants. You're just not totally ready to give a response to that, not even think about it. You prefer to avoid, prefer to tease.
He frowns cutely, passing his fingers through your tangled hair. He wets his pink lips and looks at you as he reflects, shaking his head. "This isn't a date," he replies. "I want to be with you, only you, baby."
He's referring to your night out with your friends, explaining a real date will be you as his only company. He sounds sure of himself, completely convinced that what he wants and needs is a date with you.
Somewhere you'd choose because he believes the place doesn't matter as long as you're happy with it. Somewhere he can learn more about you, more about your personality and the people you love. He wants to get to know you, know how much sugar you put in your coffee and know if you take your shower in the morning or at night.
He wants to know the simple and the difficult things.
Everything. He wants you to tell him everything about you because he's absolutely in love. Stupidly, drunkly in love with you.
"I want to know you," he confesses and you swear your heart just did a jump in your chest.
"You know me more than anybody else, Jungkook," you flirt, smiling as you stroke him gently, elongating the pleasure. "In every way and angle possible."
It makes him chuckle, his eyes blown out in lust. He shows his cute bunny teeth, a smile you realize you don't want to lose — yes, even when giving him a handjob.
"Let me have my chance, you won't regret it," Jungkook promises, his thumb passing over your cheek, leaving your poor heart incredulous, but still wanting to believe every single word that escapes his mouth.
You don't respond right away, a bit lost in your own thoughts. You've only said good things about Jungkook since you started hooking up and all of your girlfriends are team Jungkook since the beginning. You've even lost the count of his green flags.
Maybe you should let yourself be more vulnerable and be open with him about your feelings. You realize that all this time the one you weren't trusting with your emotions was you, not him.
"I'll fuck you right every day, you'll just have to ask," he adds on and you roll your eyes playfully, smiling at his silly words. "Even on the week-ends. Especially Sunday," he smirks, saying everything to convince you, even what seems stupid because at this point, he knows you've already fell for him.
You swallow him in a swift motion, lubricating his cock more as there was a bit less saliva left on him. You pull out and start pumping him again.
"Why Sundays?" At your question he grins even more, as if he knows his answer will please you.
"Because it's the day of the week you hate the most," he explains, biting down on his bottom lip as the knot in his stomach begins to tighten. "Gonna make it the one you love the most."
You can't help but grin back, connecting your gaze with him. You break eye-contact to tilt your head down and take him back into your mouth. He takes a hold of your hair again and his grip is rough, making your scalp burn.
You whine around him, sucking him like there's no tomorrow. He quickly comes close to his high, saying a bunch of profanity under his breath. He directs the movements of your head, making you take all of him at once, then sliding back up to just have the tip in your mouth.
"Shit, baby," he slurs out, wet curly bangs covering his forehead. His big brown eyes don't leave you, watching you like you're a living piece of art. "Gonna cum, don't stop," he announces and you doubt you'll stop with his hand behind your head, controlling each one of your moves.
You hum around him and place your hands on his strong thighs, sensing his muscles tensing up as he comes undone in you. He steadies your head over him, nose pressed down on his shaved pelvis.
He softly moans, pink lips parting to let the sounds out. He fills your mouth up with his cum, cock twitching as he spills everything he can in you.
He carefully slips out of your mouth and you don't wait to swallow everything before sticking your tongue out to prove him. He smiles, patting your head gently. "What a good girl," he compliments, satisfied with your instant obedience.
You stand up on sore legs as Jungkook stuff himself back in his pants, pulling the zipper of his jeans up. He replaces his tank top over his stomach, covering the band of his Calvin Klein boxers that peaks out.
He brings you closer to him by the waist and you giggle, playing with his silver chain he wears around his neck. "What do you say?"
You sigh, pretending like he annoys you, but your smile totally betrays you. "One date," you accept and he's about to kiss you, but you stop him before he can. "But I chose where we go... and you can't follow me to the bathroom anymore!"
Jungkook chuckles, cupping your jaw and giving you a kiss on the lips. "Deal." As you're about to go back to your table, he hands you something and your eyes widen when you see your panties. "Don't forget that, I'm the only one allowed to see what's under that pretty dress."
You take back your underwear, stepping into the holes then sliding them up your legs. "Shut up," you quickly say before exiting the bathroom, Jungkook behind you.
.
.
.
Do not ask for a part 2.
#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts imagines#bts x reader#bts scenarios#bts drabble#jungkook fic#jungkook imagines#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader
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the alpha next door
pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader
summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov
word count: 8.9k
a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!
When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.
The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.
But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…
Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.
The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.
When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.
On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.
Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.
As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.
That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.
That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.
But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.
That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.
He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.
Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.
So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.
Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.
Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.
But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.
Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.
But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.
“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.
One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.
That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.
Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.
Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.
He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.
It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.
He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.
Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.
Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.
The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.
But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.
Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.
Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.
Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.
His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.
When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.
You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.
A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.
The alpha next door was just so…sweet.
It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.
And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.
Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?
It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.
It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.
You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.
Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.
Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.
You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.
It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…
Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.
Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.
Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.
The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.
You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.
The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more���
You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.
Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.
“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.
You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.
You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.
“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.
The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.
“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.
You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.
It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”
So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.
It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.
Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.
Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.
Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.
“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.
Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.
In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.
“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.
Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.
Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.
Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.
He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.
Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.
Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.
Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.
You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.
At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…
God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.
Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.
That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.
You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.
It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.
“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.
As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.
By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.
But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.
“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.
The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.
Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.
“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.
He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.
With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.
“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.
Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.
“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”
As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.
Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.
“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.
“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.
Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.
“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.
“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.
Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.
“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”
Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.
“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”
Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.
You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.
You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.
Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.
The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.
Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.
Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.
“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.
You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.
“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.
“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”
You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”
“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”
“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.
Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.
As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.
For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.
Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.
But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.
You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.
“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.
Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.
“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”
Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.
It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.
“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.
When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.
“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.
“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.
You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.
“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.
The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”
“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.
Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”
You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”
Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.
But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.
#CT 2024 raffle entry#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers smut#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#alpha steve rogers#alpha steve x omega reader#steve rogers au#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers one shot#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans smut#chris evans characters#mutual pining#idiots in love#omegaverse#witchywithwhiskeywork
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Off-Limits: Ch. 1
Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU
Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.
Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.
Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.
Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.
The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.
“You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.
“We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”
Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.
As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.
Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.
“It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.
Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.
“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”
Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?
Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.
“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.
“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.
“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.
“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.
“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”
It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?
When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.
When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.
“We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”
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#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes smut#the winter soldier#winter soldier#mafia bucky x you#mafia bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes
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part 1
cast: heeseung ✗ fem.reader (ft. the peeps, enhypen, and other idols)
synopsis: when you told your long-term rival and latest hook-up, heeseung, that you are pregnant with his child; you didn't expect said topic to be involved in your rivalry!
genre: romantic comedy, slice of life, coming-of-age, slow burn, drama, rivals since childhood to [redacted], college/university au, pregnancy au, future parents au, fluff, angst, mature content (explicit smut)
word count: 24198 (24.2k) out of 60550 (60.5k)
warning(s): pregnancy (what did you expect?), so many curse words!, description of explicit sex (in a flashback sense), rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, manhandling, vomiting, mention of drugs (marijuana, alcohol), mention of blood, dark humor (if there is something that i forgot, let me know)
message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.
first fic of 2024! i've ideated this since like 2022 and it's here what the heck!! this is part 1 of 2 of a 57k-58k word count one-shot (yes, this is supposed to be a one-shot) but tumblr hates me so i have to divide it into two. thanks for the 200+ notes on the teaser/character intro and i hope you enjoy it!
soundtrack (spoilers for part 2!) | part 2
prologue: a town called valentine
it was valentine 2002 when you and heeseung first met. well, if you consider babies who can’t even talk to each other will know of each other. you have to thank both of your moms for that—getting pregnant around the same time and giving birth in the same year as well.
but the earliest—vivid—memory you have of him was on valentine 2005. you hid behind your mama’s leg as she talked with someone: another adult. you glance around the outside space you’re in, the plants and pathway unknown to you as mama can see your eyes wander with your tiny mouth agape when you look past the other adult to recognize the widening door right beside them. you heard your mother giggling with the other person as they converse about something your 4-year-old mind wouldn’t be able to understand.
“(y/n) sweetie! say hi to auntie.” your mama caresses your hair with her hand as she guides you to stand beside her, her hands moving behind your small set of shoulders before you. the small hands reached for one of hers, holding it tight as you stood beside her.
“hello…” you looked up to meet a beautiful woman. her eyes are wide as they remind you of the mother deer you last saw when you watched bambi with mama and papa. and you can feel a ticklish feeling inside you as you watch her eyes smiling softly at you. as she smiles at you softly.
“hello (y/n)! you’ve grown so much since i last met you.” her hands give a wave, making you raise your hand up as you mirror her while you pick up your mama’s chuckle. the lady moves back, extending her arm as you see a clean hallway full of photos on one side and a cabinet full of shoes on the other. some of them looking similar to your own shoe size.
“please come inside. i’ve set the toys so she can play with them if she wants.” the lady—well, auntie—said as your mama guided you inside with her trailing behind. sitting on the hidden seating area by the cabinet, she helps you take off your shoes before opening her hands to let you hold them. she lets you walk in front as both of you enter a big room with a sofa in front of a television. as per told by mama every time you enter someone’s home: sit down beside mama or papa as you waited for the homeowner to guide you next. the back of the sofa is too tall for your height now and you let your hand graze against the side of the soft sofa when you encounter a large mat laid in between the sofa and the screen.
your brain tingles when you find a few toys you can name—like the ones you own back home—while a few of them you don’t recognize at all. eyes on the toys, you throw away whatever your mama has told you and tug her hand to let her know the existence of them. looking up, she looks down at you, glance at the pile of toys left behind, and gives nods, making you grin as you both sit on the playmat. your eyes immediately look at blocks stacked shaping like a house; its triangle roof, square walls, four windows, and door makes you easily imagine it. you crawl towards it and the box beside it, finding the other blocks left behind as you pull some of them out to make your own little house. as you slowly stack up the blocks—hearing the sound of wood tapping against each other—you heard the sound of giggling coming from behind the sofa.
“sorry, he just finished taking a bath.” auntie said to your mom who was behind you, walking closer to the sofa as you turned your head to face her. that’s when you see another person walking into the room with a small pitter-patter heard behind them. the steps are getting louder and louder as you see a small figure enter the room, walking towards the person laughing. the person wipes his face with his small hand before pausing, turning his head to you.
“hi heeseung!” you heard your mama say as the boy’s laugh slows down and he looks at you and your mama. auntie, who now looks more like the bigger version of the boy, steps in to help him move and sit down beside you. you see him crouch down as you can see his face clearer. yet, his eyes wander on the house made of blocks—his house—and the house you’re making; wider by one block than his.
“that’s (y/n). you were too young to remember but auntie and i always bring you two to playdates since you’re not even one year old. she’s the same age as you.” you heard auntie say as you felt your mama help you to scoot closer. his hand reaches for the box of blocks as you place the final block on your house while he’s pulling out more blocks. you look at the boy’s action as you feel mama, with her larger hand, holding onto your smaller one. your palm is now open as you see heeseung was told to do the same by his mom, putting away the blocks on the mat. your hands meet each other as you say your name. mama helps in closing your fingers, wrapping your hand in his as he follows.
“my name is (y/n).” the boy’s hand also uses the same force when you shake it. both women let go of their children’s hands as both of your little hands are floating, connected, and shaking. your eyes meet his as he looks back at the two houses made of blocks.
“my name is heeseung.” he smiles.
-
1. stay soft, silly
the way the corner of his mouth twitches makes you think outside of the plan you are executing now, nearly done in telling him what he needs to know.
your hands rested on top of your stomach, feeling a little bulge that was not there a month ago. his ice americano contrasts with your hot jasmine tea as you sit across from each other. years upon years of history went on pause for this moment. for a truce that you are proposing.
“and they’re mine?” heeseung sounded. your eyebrows folded, looking down at the swollen part beneath your stomach as you pouted your lips, holding back your giggling as you glanced back at him.
“i haven’t had sex with anyone this past month besides you. so, yeah. the baby is yours.”
it’s funny, you see. with the amount of carefulness you and your friends have taught you of the college hook-up culture you got roped into, you never expected to hook up with your rival. yet tension does what tension does, and it snaps as you both stumbled to kiss each other.
when it comes to your “relationship” with heeseung, the closest to a positive one was when you were in kindergarten, as you’ve known him before by the amount of playdates both of your mothers set up.
little did they know that one time at a playground during one of those playdates, you were left alone to play with your sandcastles as heeseung ventured to play with the other boys, running around the sandpit playing tag and how you see the familiar little jeans pants walks in front of you, knocking the castle down and flying the specks of sand to your face with your slower reaction speed—because of your younger age—not making you close your eyelids quicker. your eyes watering as you wail out, getting the attention of your mama but not the jean-wearing boy’s attention as you hear his mom telling him to stop. apologizing is simple for your younger self, just a plain “sorry” is okay. but when lee heeseung—who you consider your friend at that time—said “sorry” with a grin on his face, you caught onto the impression that he was not sorry at all.
at age 7, you came back from the cafeteria to your class to find heeseung and his gang of boys pulling on a girl’s hair, the familiar sadness showing on her face as you caught her eyes. you’ve known that they’ve played “dirty” and have been teasing other girls in your class before—just not you, which is strange in itself. with a tense set of hands, you push the boys away with your might and stand in between them, helping the girl who cowers behind you. you look down to watch heeseung on the floor, teeth showing and face crunched as he sees the scratch from when you pushed him near his elbow.
“what was that for?”
“to stop you. she doesn’t like it.”
one of his boys helps to pick him up on his feet as you can see him limping. your arms still wide as you protect the girl as best as you can. he pushes his sweaty bangs off his face as you can define the same gaze he had given you when you were 5 at the playground, now fiery. and you exude the same thing with your glare as you see the other boys helping carry him out to the nurse's office, his eyes staying on yours as you feel the girl’s hand holding you back from not walking after him again.
stickers become score markers as you and he tried to compete to get the most out of them, which comes with being nice and clever during classes. you were 10 when you had the same class as him once again, having to compete to be the quickest when raising your hands. but also the lowly giggles you give each other as you both realize just how wrong each other’s answers that comes with the teasing annoyance. it also comes in gym class as the teacher divided you up into different teams during team games—basketball being the most competitive as you are familiar with it. heeseung doesn’t hesitate to run towards you if you have a ball and try to dribble it across the court, pulling it as you try to pass it to your teammate, resulting in a tug-of-war where you both just don’t want to let it go. even with the whistling from the teacher as one teammate gets a hold of it to continue the game, you instead continue to have a screaming match with him.
it continues through middle school as you remember him not hesitating with his power to slam his dodgeball at your stomach during another gym class, making you curl up on the floor as your friends help you to the nurse's office, hearing him screaming “that’s what you get from stealing my lunch” as you remembered the taste of the chocolate bread you pick up from his tray yesterday. at high school as you and him argue in front of the vice principal about each of your club’s fundings, him with his basketball club who is already so successful with their winnings money that they can’t seem to let go to help other clubs who are staying afloat. even with your school having pride in the basketball team and other sports club achievements—making it a staple for the students to watch at least one game during their high school years. you never went to one as you rather babysit your neighbor’s kid for money than watch heeseung’s smug smile as he won another mvp trophy for that tournament.
when college came and you got into hybe uni as a business major, you didn’t expect to see heeseung on campus. you’ve known that since he focuses more on basketball in middle school, you are winning when it comes to academics. but when his smirking face tells you he got into hybe with a full scholarship because of basketball, your heart plummets into the fathoms. you were glad that he’s not in the same faculty as you, but the college environment is so small that your acquaintances recognize each other. you can’t seem to stay away from him who still has his smart for balancing his gpa and non-academic activities.
so when your lips met his own as you sobered up after having the party busted by the police, your mind is telling you to out-better him in lust and pleasure.
“who can make each other cum the most? never thought of you as that filthy, (l/n)”
the grip of his hair on your hand tightens as he trails his own to get a grip of yours. both of your heads now straight as you can’t look away from each other even if you want to.
“i take that you’re saying that because you don’t know how to make girls cum with your dick, lee.” you chuckled. heeseung’s gaze is still meeting yours as he pushes your head forward, making your forehead touch his as he mumbles something only you can hear.
“i know i can make you cum on my dick just by the way you’re clenching your thighs, baby. how do we tally the score?”
“start a kiss on the lips when you know you can’t hold back?”
“deal.”
“by the way, who won?” heeseung asked, leaning his body forward on the table as you peer down at his position from you, holding yourself as you stretch your back to help with the pain.
“how many times did you cum? and don’t fucking lie.”
heeseung’s bed is rocking beneath you as he folds you up in half, your knees on either side of you as he pounds into you. gasps fall out of your mouth as you pull on his hair, something you realize he likes after the amount of groan coming out of him from when you tug him. praises come out of your mouth as you try every method you can to turn him on first; to make him cum first. but the way he is pushing down on your abdomen makes you clench harder.
“look at how you’re clenching onto me. you’re close, aren’t you?” he whispered as you felt the breeze blowing onto your saliva-stained neck you are certain had hickeys on it. heeseung had to remind himself that he couldn’t kiss your lips, no matter how delectable they were, changing to kissing your neck.
“n-“ you moan as heeseung’s hand traces down to grip your ribcage, pulling you closer to him so he could find another angle to reach you deeper, pleasuring you both in return. “no.”
“don’t lie to me, (y/n).” his head pulls back from your crook as you watch his bangs faltering from the hard pounding to his mattress. “god, you’re so fucking hot when you’re under me.”
“fuck, just like that.” you retaliate with your own dirty talk, hands holding his waist so he could stay longer in your cavern as you grip him. but when you sense his breath against your skin, nose upon nose touching, the grip on his waist trails up as you cup his face. nodding your head as you feel him getting faster, you pull his head down and make his lips meet yours. you bit your bottom lip as your muffled moans vibrated between the two of you. your body giving up for a moment as he continued to thrust into you, making you let go as you let out a silent scream when you felt the moist gushing against him inside you. heeseung’s lips are unhesitant to kiss between your eyebrows as your body calms down from shaking, eyes rolling back to their original place as you continue to caress his cheekbone before a surge of energy comes back to you. you push him to the side, placing him down on the mattress as your hands grab both of his wrists to rest beside his head.
“i can feel you twitching inside me, hee. i know you’re close,” you said as you bounce on his lap, feeling the way your essence fell out and how much slick is on his penis because of you. as you have the upper hand, you decide to tease him by falling on him slower than the pace you have familiarized, making his wrists flinched under your hold as you click your tongue.
“you like how my walls are sucking you?”
“fuck, yes,” he mumbled under his breath.
“yeah..?” you replied as you leaned forward, making heeseung reach up to kiss your areola as best as he could.
“come on. you don’t wanna cum again?” heeseung asked in such a whiny voice that makes you snicker at how needy he has become. you decide to continue your teasing when you trail your nose along his face as you give a tiny kiss underneath his earlobe where you see the hickey you made on his clavicle. you move your hips so slowly as you feel how he becomes more erect even when he’s inside you.
“you’re the one who denies it yourself. i’m currently helping you here.” you poke your tongue and trace down his adam’s apple to his chest, reaching his nipple and giving it a suck. heeseung’s hip shoots up into you as he wants to take control. your hand moving closer to his palm with the grip that is getting loose as he pushes both his arms to let go of your hold. yet, you pull them back up as you reposition your fingers to interlock with his, withholding what he wants to make you move faster as he thrusts up into you.
you stare at how his doe-like eyes are begging for you after the number of times you have hated and feared the same eyes. how it glistens with tears because of how uncooperative you are even with your pace getting faster. with that, you lean forward as you stretch his hands and place them on your moving hips, letting them go so he can grip it hard as he tries to chase that feeling once again. you drape yourself above him as his blown-out eyes stare right at yours, his orange fiery flame meeting your own blue.
leaning forward more as you sensed one of his hands resting on your back, you brush away his hair that is sticking on his forehead as you whispered the death blow.
“you can cum in me-“
he leans up to connect your lips with his as you understand the signal, making your hips help to stimulate him more. his tongue flicking out and even wetting the skin around your lips as he moans out your name, letting out an exhale as your forehead is on his.
“want to breed you…” he whispered as you nodded, knowing just how much you like cum staining your walls as you give him a peck.
“breed me then.”
as he spoke to you about when he cums in your walls cowgirl style, you couldn’t help but snicker at the memories of his newly known breeding kink and your own creampie kink makes the resulting bun in your oven, making him flick your hand as you stare at him.
“that’s one for you and one for me- what are you thinking?” the way his voice pitches up at the end of the question makes you giggle even more.
“i swear-“ you lean forward as you realize the stage you are in, “the way our kinks create them,” you point down to your stomach.
“with the way your body shivers when i cum in you,” he said as he also leans forward. “i knew you like it. but i didn’t realize how feral you got because of that.”
“how feral we got, heeseung. fucking correct that.”
“oh fuck!” you moaned out into the mattress as heeseung held your hips up when he thrusts back into you from behind. you can sense how every time he pounds into you, his release is coming out alongside him as the wet clapping noises penetrate even the sound of both the cricketing bed frame and both of your moans. his hand goes up to your head and pulls your hair as the other pushes against your stomach, making you bend back towards him as the moans you let out of your mouth are clearer. his lips sucking another hickey onto your shoulder as you lean your head back on him to widen his access. your hands gripping onto both of the hands that are now resting on your abdomen and one on your breast, respectively.
“who can make you feel like this?” the question triggering you right away.
“y-you.”
“say my name, baby,” he said as he kissed your cheeks, making you turn your head towards the side as you opened your eyes to meet his, continuing to pleasure you into oblivion.
“heeseung…”
“go on.” he squeezed your flesh and you bit your bottom lip.
“heeseung!”
the hand on your abdomen leaves to crawl to your nub as your free hand reaches up to his nape, letting you connect your lips with his as best as you can. your body doing gymnastics before it is overcome by your second wave of cum when heeseung stops and twist your upper body to connect both of your lips fully. with his hands enveloping you, you push both of your body down as you let him spoon you.
grinding your hips against him, you reached down to gather both your cums as you give it a lick, making heeseung groan as he helps you push against him. “fuck, (y/n), how are you still so tight?”
“only for you-“ you reply as you shift away, just wanting to kiss heeseung, but then you remember the rules. with your shoulder, you push heeseung so he lays back on the bed as you lie on top of him. your knees folding so you can put your heels on the mattress as you lift yourself up and down on his shaft. you push your hands against is so you can sit and let you see the messiness yourself: both of your thighs are now covered in whiteness as you continue, realizing how sticky your skins are against each other. instead of letting you observe the messiness, heeseung pulls your upper body back to his as he also folds his knees and pushes his heels to the bed, thrusting upwards and making the pace quicker.
both of your moans combine with each other as he rests his arms around your midriff so you can’t move away from him. your head tilts to look behind you at the way heeseung is closing his eyes. as the point of your nose touches his skin, he doesn’t hesitate to turn to you and brought your lips onto his as he gives a few sputtering thrusts before you felt him cumming in you once again, making you fuller than ever.
“and that’s another two for each of us,” you replied as heeseung let out a snicker.
“still a tie, huh?”
“yeah, but we decided on a tiebreaker, right?” he responded with a hum.
with how sweaty, sticky, and tired you both are, you decide to do a tiebreaker with you sitting on his lap in a lotus position. your breath meeting his as both of you work in tandem (with a little burst exerted once in a while) to make any of you cum first and declare to be the winner of this messed-up game you made. heeseung licks the skin below your neck and plays with your breasts as you let your fingers experiment with his nipples and the way your nails scratch against his back muscles. you know that both of you are exhausted because the only sound that comes out is the small moans and whines left over. you looked down to see the messy environment you made between both of your crotches, making you scoop it up as you lift your cum-covered forefinger to your mouth, sucking it in, before pulling heeseung’s head so you can let him taste both of you.
his wide eyes glance up at you as he puts on a show to make you turn on more, swirling his tongue around your middle finger as the hand that was holding your shoulder blade reaches to your face, making his thumb pressing against your bottom lip so you can suck it. your hips grind on him faster, bouncing a few times, as both of your moans are muffled by both of your fingers. pulling your finger back, a string of saliva connected it and his lips as you cup his cheek. heeseung bites his lip as he pulls the thumb out to see your swollen lips. as you stare at each other—thinking back to the past few hours that have gotten you here in this position—you sense something strange within you. something so unfamiliar when you stare at him than the other moments you blatantly glare towards him. with the way he glances around your face as he connects your forehead with his, you recognize he might have sensed the same things too.
you don’t remember who is the first one to reach out, but as both of your lips connect, you let yourself envelop him as he did you. both of you not stopping and helping each other out as both of you cum in quick succession. not letting go of each other’s lips as you both pull away slowly; looking at the string of saliva connecting both of you as you stare at each other.
“we don’t need to discuss that.”
“no, we don’t,”
both of you replied right after the other as you see heeseung looking away from you to glance at the window beside the table. you glance at the condensation forming on the glass of his americano before glimpsing towards the booth where he sat. a duffle bag beside his backpack; you guess it will be for his basketball practice, it is near the college basketball season after all. but as you glance up at the man himself—you notice how different he has been since you were children. the way he muscled up and the baby fat on his face sheds away from the amount of sports he has to consume weekly. but, with all the invisible scars you both inflicted on each other from then until now, you weigh in just how ridiculously complex your relationship is that you don’t know if he wants to agree with it or not.
“well, now that you know…” you started, rubbing your hand against your sweater paws, “you don’t have to contribute to their life.”
heeseung hums, turning back to look towards you with confusion written on his face.
“it’s okay if you don’t want to get involved in taking care of them. it’s hard enough to be a senior-year college student, let alone raising a baby. it’s my choice to keep them, so i have to take responsibility for that.” you grabbed the now lukewarm cup of tea as you take a sip from it, placing it gently on the small plate as you continued with, “especially knowing how complicated we are.” you use your forefinger to point between him and you.
the man’s face is hard to read. he jutted his lips, biting the inside of his cheek as you see him blink whilst looking towards you, trying to get a read on you as well. being 8 weeks pregnant, you just wanted the meeting to end because you have all the other things you need to organize: telling the girls about your pregnancy diets and symptoms, telling the university about them and maybe they could give you leeway with the tests and studies, setting up appointments for with the ob-gyn and the doula of your choice, and telling your parents.
your parents who knew heeseung’s parents.
this will be awkward as fuck to experience.
“and i wish we could have a truce for the next 40 weeks.” you said, already with an exasperated voice that seemed to even surprise heeseung. “with this lifelong rivalry going on and how both of us doesn’t even want it to stop, please just… give me a slack to take care of them as best as i could.”
when you expected heeseung to reply with an okay—knowing your status as an expecting mother to at least give you some slack—you were met with a piercing gaze instead. how he looks between your face and your hidden stomach behind the table. he rests his hand on the table when you watch him considering something, and you didn’t even fucking guess he will do what he does.
“no.”
“what?”
“no. there’s no truce.” he leans forward, recognizing the gaze in his eyes as you just want to punch it out of his face for even thinking about what he’s thinking.
“no fucking way you’re thinking about this.”
“why not, (y/n)? think you can’t take care of yourself enough for the baby?”
your palm is now against your forehead, brushing against your face as it trails down when you let out a groan, “you’re trying to make a rivalry on taking care of this baby…” you let out your guess as heeseung lets out his signature smirk and a voiceless ‘bingo’.
“how? they’re in me, heeseung.”
“by giving them good nutritious food, interacting with them, i don’t know. but i know from knowing you for years that you can’t take care of yourself, knowing you have three other roommates-“
“you also have three other fucking roommates. sheesh.” you shake your head as you lean back. “anything for the baby has to go through me first, you know? i can deny it if i want.”
“then we can argue who’s right. they’re my baby too and i have the right to be involved even if you don’t want to.” your phone vibrates after heeseung’s brash reply as you see the silent alarm of your next schedule of the day. you tug the strap of your bag to your shoulder and gulp the rest of your tea.
“whatever, i have another thing to do.”
“does it involve the baby?”
“no. unless you wanna join my research class.”
you stood up from the booth as you straightened your sweater down, making heeseung glance at your abdomen before looking back at your face. “just so you remember: i’m doing this for the baby, not you.”
rolling your eyes, you flip him the bird as you walk away from him to your only class of the day, making heeseung let out a strangled smile.
-
“what the- what do you mean?”
the game continues as the other three guys look towards heeseung who is obliterating them with his king dedede, the sound of the fighting comes from the tv of their living room apartment as his fingers nimbly move on the switch controller, making the other three characters fly from the platforms as the familiar “game!” announcement calls.
the boys are sitting in various ways; beomgyu and jeongin are on the floor and jimin is beside him. the soundtrack of the super smash bros ultimate is playing in the background as heeseung smiles.
“i’m gonna be a dad.”
jeongin, the closest to the main port of the switch, quits the game as beomgyu lets out another loud shout—outside of the game—and jimin, who is sitting besides him, shakes his body with outstretched arms.
“BROOO!” beomgyu rubs his hand across his long hair as he faces heeseung fully, who is regretting not recording the reaction of his best buddies about this.
“how does heeseung, who doesn’t even like hooking up, get someone pregnant?” jimin asks to himself but also to the others as jeongin now stands in front of him, shielding the tv from his sight.
“forget that. who did you knock up, lee heeseung?” jeongin cuts through as heeseung leans back against the headrest of the couch. a mix of expressions showing on his face cause he doesn’t know if he has to laugh, be angry, be sad, or what else. he lets out a sigh as he picks the right voice tone to tell them.
“it’s fucking (y/n).”
“okay, now hold on!”
jeongin jumps, shedding the stern aura that he just created a few seconds ago. heeseung glances down at beomgyu who has his jaw dropped with jimin gripping on heeseung’s shoulder very hard.
“SINCE WHEN DID YOU TWO HOOK U-“
“shush!” jimin stands up and covers his hand on jeongin’s mouth, not wanting another complaint from the neighbors both horizontally and vertically.
“when?” beomgyu asked jeongin’s questions concisely as heeseung glanced towards the sofa and the kitchen right beside the front door of their apartment.
“you remember the party that got busted by the police?”
“yoon keeho’s party?”
“yeah, that one.” jimin acknowledges beomgyu’s answer as heeseung continues.
“long story short, (y/n) was alone and i went past her, teasing her for seeing that her friends left her behind when the police showed. she was tipsy which she shows by how easily stumbles. so i dragged her with me to our apartment when we escaped. i don’t know where you guys were, but she’s gotten a bit too annoying so i have to sober her up. we talked, and the tension was just too…” heeseung remembers as he was the one reaching for your face, to tell you to shut the fuck up, but the tension melted away before both of you proposes the game that you did. “so, we did it. and she asked me to meet up this morning and told me the news.”
“and what are your thoughts?” jimin asks, making the high-stakes emotions lower as he lets his friend talk about what he is feeling.
well, for heeseung, shock was an understatement. when he heard you utter the three words to him as he asked you what makes you want to meet up, never did he expect that to come out. surely, he has a breeding kink, and he had expected that to happen. but you told him you’re leaving early to get a plan b pill. maybe it didn’t work, but he doesn’t want to assume much about your body. then, he can sense the hidden sheer happiness blossoming within him. he wanted to smile and give you a hug, but then he remembered that it was you. that outside of his bed that night, you didn’t see him as a friend.
for someone who doesn’t hook up with people, heeseung knows how the hook-up culture works. he had heard multiple women fucking his three roommates from within his room and he could use his noise-canceling headphones against them. people might presume he is picky—a basketball jock who stays hidden and doesn’t want to hook up with anyone unlike his younger teammates—but the level of comfort is different when he has to do it with someone he doesn’t know and that’s why he rather stayed away. you? well, you are an anomaly.
though close because of your upbringing, he doesn’t know you outside of what he knows. that you were the kid who broke his truck even after he said sorry for ruining your sandcastle at that playground. that you were the kid who pushed him to the floor back when you were 7. that you’re the girl who he competes with to get the most stickers and not letting go of the basketball even though he stole it from you correctly. that he saw you stealing the bread from his tray as he came back from the vending machine. that you were the one telling the vice principal his basketball club doesn’t need as much money as they do because of their successful run, not knowing that their assistant coach stole the winning money.
so when you decide to create walls from your words, try to spin it so he doesn’t have to care about his baby, he had to say no. it’s as if you’re trying to keep the baby to yourself and not letting him in even though it takes two to tango. so, he found the most relevant way: competing for who takes care of that baby the right way—even if they’re in you. he doesn’t even think far from that thought no matter how ridiculous it is as now he realizes what a logistical nightmare it’s going to be.
“you’re making a game out of taking care of your own child but not your baby mama?” jeongin questioned after hearing heeseung’s rambling about this.
“yup…” heeseung paused, a pregnant pause. “and i need all of your help.”
jimin’s face changes as he hears the way heeseung described his face, rubbing his palm against the creases forming on his forehead as he can’t comprehend how beomgyu easily accepts his role. jimin’s head perks up at heeseung calling his name.
“yo!” jimin replied.
“since you’re the only one out of us who has a direct connection to (y/n) through chaeryeong, you’ll be my eyes, okay? asked about (y/n), how she’s doing, and all that stuff.” heeseung nodded as he expectantly looked at the boy who stood beside jeongin.
“gotcha,” he replied, his eyes wide as heeseung turned towards jeongin.
“innie, you’re my source. find any article about pregnancy and what my role is gonna be as a dad. yadda yadda yadda. all that stu-“
“i do you one better, seung.” jeongin said as heeseung lifted his eyebrows at him, tilting his head.
“my mom is an ob-gyn doctor.”
-
“miss (y/n)!”
“wear this!”
there is sounds of pitter-patters all around you as you sense the weight getting heavier on your figure. a small cape hanging off your shoulders and a crooked crown on your head, you sit down cross-legged against a round table full of toy food and kitchen utensils. girls and boys alike sit on the chairs by the table with their own capes and crowns, playing around with their cups as they all have a tea party—with the other side of the room playing with legos.
“here is your tea and cake.” you see the girl beside you giving the plate of rubber cake and an empty tea cup.
“thank you, princess rami.” picking up the teacup into your hand, you let out a loud slurping noise to drink it, before flinching away as you fan your tongue.
“i’m so sorry. is it too hot?” rami asked as you shook your head.
“i’m okay. thank you for asking,” you replied as best as you could.
“you must be careful, princess rami.” the boy across from her spoke as you tilt your head to him.
“i’m alright. prince yujin. i will be more careful with the tea.” he gave out a smile as one girl called out.
“if we are all princes and princesses, how should we call miss (y/n)?” hyunseo asked across from you.
“well, miss (y/n) should be a queen!” woonhak replied enthusiastically.
“but if miss (y/n) is a queen, should she have a king?” hyunseo continued.
“or another queen. i have two queens at home.” yujin filled in as you gave off a smile with the implication. but then the kids started to bicker with each other as you looked around the room once again.
as you entered high school, you were determined to beat heeseung in another way other than school-related activities. and what other way by being independent and richer than him at a young age? so you raked your head of a simple work that can help you gain more pocket money when one of your aunts asks you if you can babysit their daughter and how she will pay you. seizing the opportunity, you get to take care of your baby cousin as you go to your aunt’s home to help her with her food and stuff. hearing your enjoyment by the dining room table, your mom suggests more opportunities to babysit children of your family members from both sides—to your youngest uncle’s 4-year-old son and your oldest cousin’s 6-month-old baby—you have an array of skills gotten from doing childcare as your mom recommend you to babysit her juniors’ children at work, making you who wanted it for the money now wants it for the children.
it needs a certain level of charisma to charm a child so they can listen to you and with the array of children you had to babysit, you’ve met and adapted as best as you can to all of them. from being the calm tutor for a baby who is training his motor skills to help a child practice balancing on a bicycle, you understand what a child wants under their tantrums. that love you give and the love you accept makes you want to contribute more to childcare. so you started volunteering in non-formal schools and orphanages, helping to at least make their days a little better. and that’s why you worked part-time as a daycare attendant since you entered university as it is a more established institution where you can shuffle your study schedule alongside your work schedule, meeting kids who are being sent here that are still younger than school age. it reminded you of your own childhood and you’re hoping that your inner child could be happy and satisfied that you let her feel that feeling again.
“guys…” your spoken voice cuts their conversations, and they all turn to you. “a queen doesn’t have to have a king or another queen by their side. a queen can stand alone too.”
“but wouldn’t that make the queen lonely?” rami questioned, making you pout your lips as you still can’t comprehend just how blatantly honest children are that it pierces through each layer of your heart to find the right spot.
“yes, the queen will be lonely. but she also has her princes, princesses, knights, counselors, and more around her. love doesn’t always come from one person, it can also come from a group.” you replied, making the group rowdy up as they converse about love and being independent—well, ‘lonely’ as they called it—when you feel a light pat on your shoulder.
turning your head, you see a younger girl other than those around the table holding a paper, stretching it towards you.
“for you, miss (y/n)…”
you slowly pick the paper from her small hands as you observe the drawing. a simple figure made of circles and triangles with different colors. a pink filled-in shape on one side of the triangle with the circle-shaped and another taller one holding the figures hand, a yellow crown-shaped drawing on top of a circle with a smiling face inside.
she drew you.
“awww. this is so sweet and nice.” you return to look at the younger girl, a warm smile showing on your face, “thank you, hyein.” you rub your hand on her hair—something you remember she likes—as her smile widens before she runs away towards her table, where she has a few more papers scattered.
you glance at her before looking at your own stomach, unconsciously rubbing it as you can feel your own child inside you now growing along with time. then, it all came so suddenly when you felt yourself regurgitating, hand coming up to your mouth as you stood up as fast as you could towards the staff bathroom. knocking open the door of the open stall, you kneeled down as you puke out your lunch for today, feeling your gag reflexes kicking in. you sensed a hand soothing down your back as you reached for the flush to drain it down the toilet bowl.
“you okay, (y/n)?” you hear the familiar voice of your supervisor, yoonah, behind you. nodding your head, you reach for the toilet paper and tear it apart as you wipe the remains and saliva off your lips. reaching for the crown that fortunately doesn’t fall when you puke your inside, you hold on to it as you stand up and veer around to the sink to clean your mouth, gargling and spitting out as you wipe the droplets of water from your lips.
“how is it going with the pregnancy?” she asked as you watched her reflection behind yours in the mirror. you nodded your head and chuckled.
“didn’t vomit for the past three days and i thought that was enough, and well, here i am.” you stare at your face, seeing your eyes glistening with tears with the number of times you had to cough out until your phlegm came out. you turn your head to face your boss as she gives you a solemn smile.
“so, i have already talked to hr and we agree to have you reduce your work day to just one per week. you can enter anytime between the weekdays depending on your schedule because you have lots of things to juggle with your ob-gyn appointment. we don’t want to weigh you down more.”
you looked sideways when yoonah didn’t seem to see you being glad of it. though it helps with not exerting your body—as per doctor park’s request—it will definitely reduce your money because of the appointments and others. you haven’t told your parents yet and maybe you can ask them for more money after but with the way your friends have already helped ease your part of the rent so you have enough money for your own diet and consultations; you don’t want them to provide more for you.
“that’s great and all, but what about my pay? can it be adjusted? it doesn’t have to be 200%. like, do I only work one day for a pay of two like usual? or is it the regular one day pay? if it’s the latter, maybe a 25% increase will be great? for the consultations and others…” you said, not realizing that you had a few stray tears leaving out your eyes. nice fucking job, hormones.
yoonah picks up the crown from your head and she places it above your head, straightening it up as it rests right at the top of your head, “i will take about it to hr. you know that i’m on your side with this.” she pats your shoulder as you let out a faint “thank you” and see her walking away out of the bathroom. you brushed the tears away as you wet your hands to help unswollen them, even if it is for a bit. staring at yourself in the mirror, you pull your body up straight as you turn sideways, rubbing your abdomen as you can feel the life being put into you; piece by piece, cell by cell, forming into a human being.
as your feet enter the room one by one, tons of footsteps greet you as you look down to see the crown-wearing kids you are playing tea time with approaching you. their faces showing weariness so explicitly that you feel your heart tugging at them.
“are you ok, miss (y/n)?” hyein—the first one to be there—spoke as she was surrounded by kids taller and older than her. you notice someone holding onto your hand with their tiny one, seeing rami brushing the skin as you feel soothed.
“i am now. thank you, hyein,” you replied, letting your body fall as you kneeled before them, seeing the number of children you have taken care of for the years you had worked here. in your mind, it seemed ridiculous to think of your next move, but in a way that they have taught you so much about taking care of others, it’s proper to tell them yourself.
wiping the corner of your eyes as you feel your hormones acting up again, you speak, “what do you know about your moms?”
“mommy is very sweet to me,” hyunseo replies as she steps forward to stand next to hyein, their height difference looking so cute.
“mom is the one that picked me up from here.” woonhak also replied when you can see his mom’s smile on his own from the number of times she picked him up and showed that same smile.
“both of my mamas are the best in taking care of me and my brothers.” yujin added as there were more children rambling about their mothers, creating a wall of cacophony that seemed more like the background noise you heard each week as you worked. their voices dwindled as you looked expectantly at them one by one, a smile urging them to wait for something to come out of you.
“well, you see, i’m going to be just like your moms.”
yujin was the one that caught on first as he stepped closer and hugged you. while the others still looked confused, he turned around to looked at them and state it himself.
“MISS (Y/N) IS GOING TO BE A MOM!”
“miss (y/n)!”
“no wa-“
you heard the surge of children hugging you as you laughed out loud, seeing yoonah by the door as she also followed your laughter while you were surrounded by the children who were either hugging you or asking you questions.
“settle down, children. miss (y/n) needs a space to take a breather.” yoonah spoke up as she approached you who has a grin on your face.
“you said that you don’t have any king or queen?” yujin said as you felt your cheeks getting warmer, he now held onto the crown that slipped down your head from the number of kids that is surrounding you. while you could feel a hand on your stomach as you looked down to see hyein sitting down—remembering that she also has a pregnant mother with a little sibling on the way for her.
“it, it will be hard for me to explain it to you, but…” you felt yoonah’s hand on your shoulder as you glance at the closest clock in the room—finding the time for them to go home has come. “your moms are waiting for you to go home.”
you push yourself up to stand as yoonah guides the kids to pick their items up by the cabinets as you stand up straight, seeing the children walking around you when you see rami stepping beside you, arms wide open as you crouch down to give her a hug. you felt other sets of arms surrounding you as you giggled, pulling away your arms as the children noticed it.
“i’ll see you all next week!” you stated as yoonah brought all of them to the door of the daycare before opening them, seeing all of them going to their respective parents and guardians as a few of them acknowledged you. you turned around as you started your usual clean-up process, picking up the drawings that the children made and putting them in their own folders so you can give them to their guardians when they graduated, putting back the toys into the boxes, returning the costumes back to the wardrobe as you place the robe and crown you were also wearing, and you wanted to do one more thing, but you heard someone clearing their throat.
“i’ll clean the furniture and floor. you have done so much and you needed to eat and rest.” yoonah told you as you sighed, knowing that you seemed to be hungrier after you vomited out your food.
“thanks, boss.” you winked as she chuckled, bringing yourself to the staff room with the drawing that hyein gave to you—pinning in your mind to collect it with the drawings the kids you’ve taken care has made for you.
when collecting your things into your backpack, you glance at the paper that you printed out from your laptop as you scan the words, seeing your inked signature on the bottom as you see the blank space with the name right across from yours. heeseung’s name.
since he decided to be involved—you remembered while you talked to your faculty about your pregnancy and how they asked who the dad was, you decided to bring him up as a “student from another faculty.” it might make him think twice if he wants to be involved or not because he will get his name pin up on a note somewhere, which will be noted to his coach, lecturers, and more of his status. you are ready to be mentally burnt by the judgment your peers might give you, but is heeseung also ready?
you haven’t thought of the way you’re going to give heeseung the letter when you see minjeong’s name from your vibrating phone as you pick up the things you are bringing home and you hear yoonah talking as she sees you already leaving.
“carpool picking you up?”
“yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend.”
“okay, take care of yourself and i’ll follow up with your request.” you felt yoonah giving you a side hug as you gave a smile and wave when you pushed the door open. you breathed in the outside air to see the dark gray chevrolet camaro parked near the front of the building. walking to the back seats, you opened the door to be met with the music playing as minjeong greeted you.
“how’s work, (y/n)?” she instantly asked as sungchan lurched the car to a drive when you glanced at the bags of things beside you.
“freaking embarrassing. i vomited suddenly when i hadn’t vomited for the last 3 days but the kids reacted to it pretty okay. and i told them i’m gonna be a mom.”
“that’s so sweet!” she said, glancing back from her seat in front of you as she reached to touch you, making you sit in the middle with the console right in front of you as you see sungchan’s playing with the volume of bluetooth-connected car radio play the song that sounds so minjeong—which you can recognized right away.
“what did you guys do today?” you wiggled your eyebrows as you heard sungchan’s laugh from the way he looked at you from the rear-view mirror.
“you know what me and jeongie usually do, eat, shop, fuck, repeat-“
“no, we didn’t fuck today-“
“we did a quickie before we left to pick (y/n) up, winter.”
“okay! ughhh…” minjeong said, rubbing her face in embarrassment before replying, “i brought him to this cafe that has all these criterion collections that aren’t available on any of the streaming services we own. so i bought so many dvds for us to watch.”
“which are?”
“older movies, foreign movies. you did say that you enjoyed watching japanese movies, so i bought some of them for us to watch.”
“fuck, i love you so much for that, kim minjeong.” you replied as you heard sungchan’s little tsk, making you both giggle as his possessiveness is showing at the most ridiculous time.
“so, (y/n),” you hummed to sungchan’s starter words, “you haven’t told me who is your baby daddy.”
“guess!” you tugged yourself forward as your face was between their seats.
“how should i guess when i never see you hook up with people?” he replies as you glance at minjeong who is just watching him, an amused smile on her face.
“what if i say it’s song eunseok,” you mentioned his fellow frat bros.
“eunseok is dating that junior of his he has classes with. and he’s a loyal guy so i don’t think so.”
“what about park jisung? he’s hot in my eyes.”
“you don’t seem to be the kind to hook up with your junior,” he replied, making you squint your eyes.
“zhong chenle? he’s a fellow biz major like i do.”
“you’re definitely not his style.”
“now, that’s rude.” you hunch yourself back on the back seat as minjeong’s giggles compete with the music playing.
“you’re gonna be so shocked if we told you who he is.” she added as you nodded along, “two hints though: he’s our age and he’s a fellow jock-“
“that’s too much, jeong-ah.” you cover her mouth as her muffled nagging rings in the car. you can feel her lapping your palm, tickling your nerves and making you pull away as it’s now sungchan’s turn to have a giggling fit while watching his girlfriend and her roommate bickering. the trip was close between the daycare you work and the apartment tower you rented off-campus—but since you’ve mentioned to your roommates that you’ve been having back pain and vomiting sessions, they decided to help you out by being by your side as they drop you off or picking you up—just like what chaeryeong did as she drop you off to work before going to the dance studio.
so, when you stare out to see the small lobby of your apartment, you’re already with your backpack tucked to you as you open the door of the backseats. sungchan helped widen the door for you before going to the other side to help minjeong with the things she bought from their date. as you stood by the tiled floor of the lobby, minjeong gave sungchan one last kiss on the lips as you heard him say, “bye, babe! bye, (y/n) and hope you rest!”
“see you next week, baby.” the girl said as both you and her are waving your hands at the boy, who has entered the car driving off into the ending sunset of today. stepping inside the entrance of the apartment, you and she enter the empty elevator as you catch a glimpse at what other things minjeong had bought when you see a box from a chicken fast food brand, making your mouth water as you think about it, but you knew that you’ll be nag by dr. park for eating junk food.
pushing the handle after you put the pin on the keypad, you enter and instantly kick your shoes off as you are met with ryujin who is tying her hair up, walking towards you as she helps with minjeong’s bags. the apartment was left as you remembered this morning: a few scattered papers from either you or ryujin’s homework, the weighted blanket by the sofa now folded, and the smell of hot choco on the coffee table alongside ryujin’s laptop as you remembered that she only has online classes today.
“what did you bring?” ryujin wiggled her eyebrows as she rummaged open the bag that you’d seen when she instantly brought it to the kitchen counter when you saw her already cooking something. out of all four of you, you and ryujin are the ones talented in cooking so it’s not a surprise to see her cook for herself, but when you see the large plate that is places beside where the stove is, you know she has been making dinner for all four of you—as only chaeryeong’s the one who is not finished with her work today.
“why did you bring back fast food, minjeong? we promised to also have (y/n)’s diet.”
“that’s my leftover. chan said that the boys had too much stuff in their fridge so i brought it to us.” you then felt minjeong’s hand behind your lower back as she stood beside you, “hope you are okay with that.”
“of course, i’m okay.” you give minjeong a smile. “all of you aren’t obliged to follow my diet cause i know you love red meat, jinnie.”
“it feels wrong if i don’t follow you, though.” ryujin replied as you and minjeong go to your separate ways—she walked to her room while you stepped into the kitchen to see the food that minjeong brought. the chicken was a leftover but you also see her bringing back different meats and seafood.
“i almost forgot to ask you, but can you give me the list of the food that you can and can’t eat? just so i can help with the recipes and so we can pre-made food.” ryujin said as she put her arms behind your back, soothing you as you viewed her making japchae and beef on the pan.
“will do, ryu.” you give her a salute as she gives your cheek a squeeze before you let her be. taking your bag handle as you step towards the direction of your room, the bell of your apartment rings as ryujin turns towards you, making both of you tilt your head as you volunteer to get to the intercom.
when you press the button, the screen shows you someone you don’t expect to see as you can recognize the wolf cut hair you’ve seen while scrolling on your instagram. your footsteps immediately go to the door as you hear the ringing “hello”s from the intercom, opening it up to see the boy you’re trying your best to mask your feelings for with a box.
“heyya, (y/n)!” he replied as you widened the door to gaze at the box.
“h-hi beomgyu.” you give him a small smile as you try your best not to lock your eyes on him. to be having a crush on a boy like him is ridiculous, especially knowing that he is your RIVAL’s best friend. and the fact that you still have a crush on him since high school to then be found being in the same uni as him. if he doesn’t have heeseung by his side, you know you will brace yourself to approach him first. but now with his success as an indie musician, you know you are probably in a losing battle knowing just how spicy heeseung talks about you knowing that he has so many fans aiming at him and how you can’t compete with them—not as much as yeonjun though.
“wha, what’s this?”
“it’s for you.” he pushed the box towards you as you tried to peek inside when you felt a presence behind you.
“let me get that.” another pair of hands open by your side and you see the smirk on beomgyu’s face falter to see ryujin pulling the box against her.
“hi ryujin,” he said, a slight tremble in his voice as you finally be able to look at him with your heart eyes before back at ryujin.
“beomgyu,” she replied before leaving the door to put the box away. you eye the boy who is staring at the empty space for a few seconds too late before you are back in his attention, returning to the cheeky smile you adore.
“thank you for that!” you felt your palms getting sweatier than ever, rubbing one of them against the door to dry it.
“you gotta have to thank heeseung for that.”
the way beomgyu named he-who-shall-not-be-named shutters your fantasy as you were met with the reality. of course, it’s from heeseung, not from the boy you had a crush on—even if it means that the baby daddy trusts his best friend so much to tell him that he is having a baby with his rival. beomgyu seemed to be the nicer guy between the two. so, a girl can hope, right?
“oh yeah, wait for a minute!” you were so caught up in the way heeseung terrors you and slips back into your mind and how you wanted to slam the door when you heard his name when you remembered the paper that he had to sign. you pull the paper out of your folder as you pull one of your sticky notes and write a simple note to him. giving a smile to beomgyu, you handed him the paper as he stared at the words printed on it.
“give it to heeseung and send it back to me after that, or if he wants to submit it himself, then that’s fine. i have to give the contact person the info if he decides to send the paper to the administration himself.”
beomgyu nods as he chuckles at your note before giving a last “i will” before walking and waving away, making you close the door as you wonder how did he know where you lived. eh, that’s fine. you got to see what heeseung gave you as the box rested on top of the counter right beside ryujin who was pouring the japchae into the bowl.
slowly opening it—scared that he might have a jack-in-the-box mechanism inside it—you were met with plastics covering greens as you tugged a few of them out to be met with a bunch of fruits and vegetables still packed in their grocery’s packing. your shoulder meets ryujin’s as she took a glimpse at the new ingredient you picked out of the box.
“from beomgyu?”
shaking your head, you feel a piece of paper inside the box as you pinch it between your fingers. straighten the creases, you see the scribbles on the note as you read it in your mind.
eat them for the baby’s health and your own sanity - lhs
“heeseung,” you replied after you finish. ryujin gives a small hum as you catch the smirk on her face before you shove her with your shoulder. both of you open the plastics of the greens, vegetables, and fruits that heeseung bought for you, ryujin saying out loud the names of the greens as you and her bounce ideas of what kind of food she can make to cater to your diet.
“kale, cabbage, broccoli…” she picked another vegetable, carefully pulling away the plastics as the waft of the smell entered the kitchen. you knew of the vegetable, but being pregnant equals being sensitive to smells. and the way that you instantly wretch at the smell makes you scurry away from ryujin.
“hey, who rang the be-“
minjeong was pushed away as she saw you opening the door of their shared bathroom, making her turn around as she heard you wretch out the remaining food and saliva inside of you that is followed immediately by a flush from the toilet bowl. she walked to the kitchen to see ryujin holding stems of leaves on her hand.
“well, now we know she can’t eat arugula.”
the chime of the lock unlocked rings alongside the opening of the door of their apartment as ryujin and minjeong stare at it, seeing chaeryeong trying to breathe as she takes off her sneakers.
“WHY IS JIMIN PESTERING ME ABOUT (Y/N)?”
-
thumps and squeaks are what beomgyu heard as his eyes gazed at the lights coming out of the gymnasium. his feet working in tandem echoing through the night as he took another glance at the paper, another step away from the door as he pulled the handle to see a bunch of boys running around the wood-floored gym. beomgyu’s eyes searched for heeseung as he bit his lips, not wanting to be late for his own band practice with the boys.
turning towards the bleachers, he’s seen one of the boys that beomgyu remembered being on heeseung’s profile. his hands on top of his knees as he leans forward to see the 3 x 3 half court game beomgyu realized isn’t a part of training—but more of them having fun. he is taking a glimpse at heeseung who is muttering a curse word under his breath because the ball was stolen from his hold.
“hey, uh, sheep!”
the boy turns towards beomgyu with squinting feline-esque eyes before they widen, realizing who called him.
“your jersey has ‘yang’ on it. so i called you sheep.”
“nah, that’s okay. you’re beomgyu hyung, txt’s guitarist…” the boy stands up, their height almost the same as each other, but beomgyu knows that the kid can grow taller—from both basketball and his unfinished puberty phase, probably.
“i’m jungwon! i’m guessing you’re here for heeseung hyung?”
beomgyu glanced down at the paper as he nodded, “i couldn’t stay until he finished cause i have band practice. so, this document is for him to sign.” he told jungwon what you told him as his ghost patted himself on his shoulders for being right. beomgyu uses his thumbs to point behind him after jungwon picks up the paper that he pushed towards him and gives him a thumbs up before a loud "thank you" rings as the gymnasium door opens, leaving jungwon with a slight chuckle creeped out of his lips.
the boy couldn’t stop his curiosity as he turned the paper so he could read the writing, skimming it down as his eyebrows as he couldn’t stop his speech before it was too lat-
“HEESEUNG HYUNG IS A DAD?!”
jungwon’s shout makes movement screech to a halt as he looks up at his boys, also staring at heeseung, who is glaring at jungwon and the paper he is holding. but, his reaction speed was too slow to pull it off his grips as heeseung lost against the other five boys who had huddled towards jungwon.
“shut up!” sunoo exclaimed.
“it’s true, sun,” jongseong replied as he could hear jaeyun and riki screaming and laughing before they scurried to run around heeseung.
“who is this (y/n), hyung?” jaeyun speaks into his ear, making heeseung grimace as the three walk towards the crowd with sunghoon now holding onto the paper.
“isn’t (l/n)(y/n) your senior, jjong?” sunghoon calls out, making said boy read carefully the name with the signature on top.
“oh yeah! we had a marketing communication class together. didn’t know you knew her, hyung.”
heeseung steps in between them as he snatches the paper out of sunghoon’s grip in a quick frame. his eyes scan the paper that is written—the letter to the university administration about your status—and he can see his name printed on the side of the paper from yours. then, he finally read the note you have sticking onto the paper.
sign it and give it to the administration office. if you’re serious.
“won, it’s your turn to play,” he said as the boys stared at him. “i have things to do, plus i have a morning class tomorrow.”
“okay, hyung.” jungwon’s answer was followed by his offer to the older boys to continue the match as he felt another hand holding onto his forearm, turned to see the youngest boy with a small smile on his face.
“you gotta have to let us meet this (y/n) noona. i bet she’s pret-“
“go back to your place, riki-kun. jake’s calling for you.”
“hey, lanky. come on before i make you and jungwon switch.” jaeyun’s voice penetrates through the conversation at the correct moment as the smirk on heeseung’s face is growing. they’re leaving him alone as he walks towards his backpack and duffle bag—finally feeling the surging soreness from pushing himself hard while training and off-training. sure, it’s excessive. but the tournament is a month away from now, and he had to train for that, knowing that the matches would be back-to-back if he passed the quarter-finals.
the wood of the bleachers screeches beneath his body as he pulls out his pen, staring at the paper one last time—trembling breaths coming out from him. who knew that a single signature could hold so much power?
yet with how you are trying to deter him, to remind him that signing this will mean that the whole university will now know lee heeseung is a future father: that actually made him shake. he could feel the boiling anxiousness giving a few pumps of steam into his mind, clouding the plans he had already made in his mind from the information jeongin told him. he knows the future scenarios on both sides.
but fuck it, right? he’s not usually caring about what other people perceive. so what if he is known as a dad in nine months? but, he had to think about the parental leave you’re proposing—it might actually make him graduate late.
yet, the view is clear as he lets his pen glide on the paper.
the baby and your scowling face as you realize that his doing is the one that makes that baby so healthy.
tucking the paper in between his laptop and his wireless earbuds on his ears, he waves goodbye to the boys who are playing with sunoo giving a beautiful lay-up before he pushes the door to get out of the gym. the streetlights shining the pathways as he still can see students roaming around the campus at night—most are going to the library to maybe pull an all-nighter.
the screen illuminates his face as he scrolls down at the text jimin had sent him about you. but he had to do another victory lap first when he dialed the generic full name’s number.
“hello?”
“that will not work, (y/n).”
heeseung heard the grainy chuckle in his ear as he let his muscles’ memories take him home in the night's dark. eyes staring at the path that opens up onto the sidewalk where sparse vehicles are going about on the asphalt streets.
“so you sign it?” he caught the way you sigh against your phone while heeseung is focusing on both the conversation and what jimin texted about your condition.
“and i’ll be giving it to the office.”
“hmm, okay…” heeseung’s eyes scan through the words, letting his face contort and relax as he consumes it to his mind before it’s broken by a grainy sound of metal from your end.
“also, thanks, by the way. for the arugula. made me vomit my stomach out.” heeseung heard you reply as it slowly became more mumbled, hearing you eating your dinner’s food as the noises of the night came back into his cochlea, shaking his nerves as only white noises entertained him as he looked around—seeing his apartment building at the distance.
“and don’t make jimin ask chaeryeong about me again. she’s traumatized now and we have each other’s number saved.”
heeseung didn’t want to save your number at first. but when his mom brought him to her meeting with your mom, catching up after a long time and discussing that both of you have been accepted by the same university, they insisted that you both to have each other’s numbers saved. “for emergency sake, so you both have each other to rely on.” his mom explained, making him discreetly roll his eyes while you continue to listen to your music without giving a glance to him. yet, you’re the one that gave him your phone first so he can type his number, making a small “:p” the first thing you text to him.
“i’ll tell him.” he clicked his tongue as he caught the way you omit another information from him.
“but you’re not gonna tell me you have a doctor’s appointment next week?”
“how’d you kno-“
“jimin, from chaeryeong, and so, from you.” his smile gets bigger. “gotta have to thank jimin for that one.”
“so you want to join? what if you have a class?”
heeseung’s feet brought him to the lobby of his apartment building, his vision now on the elevator as he stated something so obvious to him.
“i have questions and i rather miss class than leave it unanswered.”
-
your hands are tugged inside your hoodie’s front pocket as you wait for your name to be called. the usual soreness is tamed as you let chaeryeong massage your back carefully, relaxing most of the tender muscles that are holding you up. you can see a little bump protruding out of your stomach that was not there when you discovered you were pregnant in week 8.
remembering the way you have to buy five pregnancy tests is ridiculous when your only symptoms are headaches and vomiting. but it quickly escalates to morning sickness and how you notice just how sensitive your senses have become—the way your fingers realize little grains of crayon as you pick up the kids’ drawing to how you’re triggered by little noises coming out off your room. it feels too strange for it to be food poisoning and with all five tests showing two blue stripes: all the problems you have faced for the past month—why your period is late, the morning sickness—all click inside your mind.
your girls were the first ones you spoke to, recalling how they waited in front of your shared bathroom as you flipped the tests around, hitting you one by one with the truth of your condition. then tears start to show as overwhelming emotions compete to show dominance and you hear chaeryeong’s voice from behind the knocks on the door. you open the door to feel them hugging you as you show them the tests, how they can’t wait to be your baby’s cool aunts from differing perspectives as they know of your history related to children, pregnancy, and motherhood from taking care of so many children, how your parents open up to you about why they couldn’t give you a younger sibling, and the responsibility you are willing to take care for them. at that moment they hugged, you’ve already fallen in love with your baby and you are determined to let them have a happy life.
the obstetrics and gynecology department’s walls were more pastel than the other parts of the hospital. maternity pack posters hanging as you read the words, planning your next steps as you waited by the door to your doctor. your fingers interlocked and thumbs twirling around each other as you attentively listen to the open door and your name being called. scouring your eyes around, you saw a little playground area for kids barren as you eyed the small set, mothers around you waiting also for their appointment—some with a sleeping baby in their hands, another with a large bump. the atmosphere is so serene that you can collect your thoughts and arrange them for the next seven months from your due date.
“hey, (y/n).”
your eyes blink as you turn around in your seat to face forward once again, looking up to find the familiar face you’ve been thinking about for the past few days.
heeseung wears a simple hoodie like you do, both of his hands tucked into the front pocket as the strap of his bag crosses his chest. a thin-lipped smile on his face as you didn’t see his usual resting bitch expression.
“heeseung…” you reply as you gnaw on the inside of cheek as he stands there, “i haven’t gotten the call from the doctor yet. so you can sit down.” your eyes glance quick at the vast space beside yours on the sofa you are also sitting down. he gave a quick nod before sitting on the space beside yours, a noticeable space between the two of you as you both lean more against each of the tables placed as the barriers between the sofas. even if you felt a piercing presence beside you, you tried your best not to look at him. the phone call when he called you was the last time you spoke with your voice to him—you having small talk with him as he found in the hospital doesn’t really count—yet he still gave you another box of ingredients for your unborn child this week, no arugula this time.
well, you are glad to see beomgyu more and you don’t mind seeing beomgyu every week if he’s the one that does heeseung’s errands for his child.
both of you stare forward at the doors and wall in front of you, nearing mirroring each other even by the slight twitch of both of you wanting to look at each other. but, also not really. the tension is stronger than when you told him you’re pregnant with his child. the fucking effects of the continued declaration of rivalry as you can calculate how far both of you are willing to push even for the past week and you can guess what you both will push more for the next 7 months.
“miss (l/n) (y/n)?” the door opened as the nurse spoke of your name making you jump up from your seat as heeseung followed behind you to enter the doctor’s room.
“(y/n)!” the young doctor said enthusiastically as you sat down on the chair in front of the desk.
“doctor park!” you answered, cadence matched hers.
“how have you- oh.” dr. park looks at the man entering behind you, looking between the three women in the room and the empty chair near the door before he hears her speak, “is this the dad?”
“yes, i’m the dad, lee heeseung,” he replied steadily as dr. park, who is standing up, shoots her hand out to him.
“i’m dr. park jihyo, (y/n)’s ob-gyn doctor. didn’t expect to meet you as (y/n) said that the dad might not be involved.”
heeseung’s eyebrows were raised, chortling as he realized what you implied, “after she told me, i decided to be involved.” his eyes peek from the side to see you giving a stare with no movements on your lips, sitting down on the chair beside of yours as you want to continue with your appointment.
“well, welcome to your tenth week of being pregnant. how are you feeling?” dr. park asks, looking at you with a warm smile as you see the nurse taking care of your document.
“the morning sickness kinda gets pretty worse and overflows out of the morning. definitely more sensitive towards scent, flavor, and texture. i also have already sensed growth on the bump since it is a bit more protruding than usual.” your hand unconsciously caresses the hoodie covered in your stomach, feeling the tenderness of the skin that is just muscles of your abdomen being pushed to cater to the baby.
“your stomach and intestines are being pushed by the uterus as the fetus grows and it’s very normal. since we already did the blood and urine test and went over your family history back in your first appointment, we can go to an ultrasound to check the growth of your baby.” dr. park replied as she nodded at the nurse who instantly walked to the bed and set things up for your scan.
“i’m sorry to bother you, doctor. but i have a question.”
your head shifts towards heeseung as he asks, the doctor just giving him a nod.
“(y/n) said to me she’ll get a plan b pill after our… time. yet, she still got pregnant, but isn’t that still supposed to work?” the way his voice pitches makes you hold on to a smile, recalling to when you asked the doctor the same question in your first appointment. you gave the doctor a big nod for her signal.
“well, (y/n) said to me she consumed a plan b pill less than 24 hours after your intercourse. but plan b pill, or levonorgestrel, works by delaying the release of the egg from the ovaries. she also said that her period, which started around a week or two weeks before she discovered she was positive, was late. so, we can assume that while you two have sex, (y/n) was already in her early stages of ovulation with the egg being released into the fallopian tube and the egg got fertilized.”
heeseung nods along with the doctor’s words as you remember the same explanation given to you in the previous meeting. you’ve tried using pills before but you know it will affect your hormone and physical health in the long run—you are not a serial fucker unlike a few people you recognize—so you rely on protection like condoms and morning-after pills right after that. heeseung not wearing one makes you want to laugh at how funny the scenario is and how you can just remain rivals for the rest of your life if you remind him to put on the rubber.
the nurse calls for as you follow her, stepping out of your shoes as you lay down on the bed. she gently brushes your hoodie up as your skin is exposed while she also pulls the band of your pants down below right above your underwear line. the chairs move as you glance at heeseung following dr. park as she takes the seat beside you to check on the machinery. the liquid is cold as it touches your skin as your eyes catch heeseung who is looking at the exposed stomach where his unborn child is.
as the transducer spread around the gel on the stomach when you feel it pressed down, you looked at the screen across from you hanging on the ceiling as the doctor moved around, marking the size of your uterus. you heard her gasp as you turned to look at her warm smile that widens into a grin.
“congratulations to you both!” she replied as she continued to move the transducer around, making you and heeseung realize that there’s a fetus inside you, but not just one.
“TWINS?!”
-
2. katana-like knife
heeseung gazes at the ultrasound he is holding with both hands, seeing the way the doctor has assigned twin 1 and twin 2 on the screen. the twins are in different sacs; he remembered what the doctor said, making them fraternal twins. she also says that not only you were ovulating when you two fuck, but you were releasing two different eggs around the same time and he got both of them pregnant.
he recalled both of you doing a hilarious staring contest as you couldn’t stop yourself from making funny faces as the doctor described the growth of your twins. fucking heck, he hadn’t told his friends that he was having twins. how his body trembles as the realization hits him while he’s looking at his babies—yes, plural—makes him even want to be more attentive, to now realize that he had two to take care of. and those two make him know you have to adjust your diet once again.
if it weren’t for him buying ingredients, he doesn’t think you would adapt easily to what the babies need. he’s won on this occasion. but what comes next?
his phone vibrates on the table as he takes a glimpse of the text message showing on the lit-up screen.
(l/n) (y/n): i’m heading home for the weekend. my parents will definitely see that i’ve been knocked up.
even he can see it as he had walked past you before on campus. you’re now wearing more oversized clothing pieces—t-shirts, hoodies, cardigans—as he realized the slight bump on the surface of them. it’s been over two weeks since that check-up appointment and the growth has been faster than he expected.
(l/n) (y/n): not asking you to join me.
(l/n) (y/n): if you aren’t brave enough to take the consequences, i’m fucking winning this :p
“that’s it” he shakes his head as he tugs the ultrasound picture into his wallet before putting it back in its place, hands opening the messages.
lee heeseung: threatening much. i’m in.
if you want to make this a competition, let’s make this a competition.
lee heeseung: hey mom. sorry for texting you randomly. but i’m going back home for the weekend.
all he had to do was wait, as he could hear the sound of his mom talking with your mom on the phone about how their children would be home together, asking to meet up.
and that moment goes exactly as he had expected as he drove the car with you in the passenger seat, leaning against the door as you both let the radio play boring-ass repeating pop songs from some random radio station. none of you seem to react, just to make each other annoyed enough to know who will concede and connect to bluetooth first—even not listening to good-ass music is a competition between you both.
you sighed extra loud as you listened to an old-ass pop song from the mid-2010s the radio seemed to have a lifetime contract for it to play for fucking ever. you wish you were the one driving now, but you didn’t bring your car for this semester because it needed maintenance and you were in a healthier mood for this year. you catch a look at your phone, seeing your mom asking where you are right now as auntie lee has arrived at your home—cooking up the food for all your family to enjoy.
“which one is your car’s bluetooth?” you gave up on hearing the radio station as you playfully checked every menu to find the bluetooth menu.
“the brand of the car, duh,” he answered, still focusing on the highway as you remembered that it’s nearly a few exits away from the side of the town you and he grew up in. he took a glance at the bluetooth speaker as he sees,
“‘mitski’s brainchild personified’? you liked her that much?” he actually snorted, making you see the name on your phone on the screen in the middle of the dashboard.
“shut the fuck up. she’s my comfort musician, just like kaede from slam dunk is your comfort character.” the way your fingers lightly tap against your phone, makes him chuckle as he can hear you holding onto your emotion from not spilling through your words, not commenting on how you mentioned his liking for slam dunk as if you remember it so well, even if it also stuns him.
you’re playing a playlist of yours that is just… instrumentals. a perfect playlist to hear whilst commuting as you let yourself take a breather from this world. eyes gazing to the window outside as you rested your phone on your lap. the scent of heeseung’s cologne accustomed your memories as you let the music speak while you both remained quiet. maybe, because it is an instrumental track that you both couldn’t comment on, that he can’t take a jab at your music taste unless you put on mitski or boygenius, that it gives a soundtrack so vague it resembles the way you perceived your relationship to each. sure, you still hate him for everything he has done to you in the name of winning. but, with two babies on the way, the concept of the rivalry between you both is there yet so blurry. which one is a concrete rivalry? which one is the softer one? why should you trust what he gave to you? why did he join in to take care of them?
the car zooms fast on the highway, yet you can see slower cars on the outside of the highway and faster cars zooming past you on the other lane. it’s like what your dad had said before—"you don’t feel how fast life is until you look at other people’s lives"—and to think that you will be home in overtly large clothing to hide your bump to know that he’s going to be a granddad just concretes the idea of that in your mind. you turn your head to glance at the backseat, seeing the shopping bag you had prepared besides what heeseung also has for his family, who he’ll meet at your house.
stepping out of the car, you stood at the carpool of your house filled with cars—other than yours and your parents inside the garage—when you watched your mom and heeseung’s mom walk out of the porch, barefooted, to greet you. the warmth of your mom’s hug felt so overwhelming that you had to sink your emotions as you blamed your hormones for making you too sensitive.
the interior of the house feels so lively from the last time you went home during the semester break. maybe it’s because of the way your mom has another guest in the form of the lee family and the smell of the delicious you know both of your moms had made together with their aprons still on as they guide you inside. even as they walked to the kitchen, you could hear them whisper.
“since when did (y/n) and heeseung arrive here together and in the same freaking car?” auntie lee asks.
“(y/n) didn’t bring her car this semester so i guess she doesn’t wanna waste any more money for transport.” mama answered.
both of your moms have always tried to make you close and you’ve always tried to tone down your rivalry in front of them, effortlessly acting in front of them as nice friends when you give him a snide look behind their backs any chance you can get. your bickering can escalate so much that you will have a shouting match in the arcade as heeseung doesn’t want to give up his time to play for you, making both of your moms force you to apologize to each other before that bickering returns at school’s classes where they’re not there for you two to mediate. maybe that’s why you don’t perceive heeseung as an enemy. merely a rival; because your mom never talked bad about heeseung no matter what happened between the two of you and it seems that heeseung’s mom has also done the same to him.
the two shopping bags sit on the coffee table as you watch both of your dads talking about dad stuff. heeseung’s attention is on his phone as he’s typing something on the screen while you unconsciously rub your stomach hidden beneath your top, waiting for all of them to settle down around the coffee table as they want to open the shopping bags together.
“what did you bring me?” mama asks in a sing-song manner as heeseung’s mom giggles beside her. you stood beside heeseung with your hands behind you as the husbands looked at the similar-looking gift boxes in each of their wives’ hands.
“don’t tell me. is it the jewelry i showed you those months ago, hee?”
“nah, it’s not. dad’s planning to buy that one for you.”
heeseung’s dad’s face turns into a scowl, seemingly angry as if his son has spoiled his plan while the boy just widens his smile before gazing back at his mom.
“well, together?” mama asked to his mom.
“yeah, 3, 2… 1!”
the box opens as you’re holding your breath, also holding back your smirk as you can view the way papa’s eyebrows crease as he can’t believe what he is saying. heeseung’s mom was the first one to openly express her shock by literally jumping from her seat and box thrown towards his dad’s as he took a good stare at it, making you glance at him you actually won the bidding on who would be shocked first between the two.
“NO, FUCK- WAIT?!” his mom stares between the two of you before your mom jumps from her space to also gaze at you, holding onto the paper. giving him a nudge with your elbow. you didn’t expect him to wrap his arm behind your shoulders.
“yeah… the babies are ours-“
“no fucking way!” your mom actually shouted as she hyperventilates while heeseung’s mom covers her mouth, contemplating on what to do when she felt her body being squished by her best friend, hugging her tight as they turn to hug each other while heeseung’s dad gives his box to your dad so he could see it clearly.
“since when are you two together?” papa asked as you tried to let heeseung’s grip from your shoulder.
“uncle, we aren’t together. we just hook up and-“
“WE’RE GOING TO BE IN-LAWS.” you can hear mama cheer as both of the women twirl around the small space, making you feel even more guilty for breaking the immersion as you stop budging away from heeseung’s hold. rolling your eyes, you stare at heeseung and lean in close to his ear, whispering.
“bad fucking idea…”
“at least they’re happy, right? well, i won because of that.”
mama interrupts both of you as she gives you both an enormous hug while heeseung’s mom comes from behind. you could see the tears coming out of mama’s eyes who rested her head against your shoulder.
“ughh, too tight.”
“stop it, honey! (y/n) looks so uncomfortable.” papa reminded.
“oops, sorry!” your mom lets go of her hold as heeseung’s mom slotted between the two of you as she pushes in on the excess fabric of your clothes, making you grip both sides of your top and pull it backward so she can see your bump already showing.
“hi, baby!”
“it’s babies.” heeseung’s dad cuts in as his wife follows with, “there’s two of them?”
“i swear to god.” heeseung’s old man brushes his face, unbelievable that his wife didn’t see the two sacs from the ultrasound as you give your mom a nod, her hands carefully holding onto your waist.
“fraternal twins,” you confirmed to her as you watched another batch of fresh tears coming out of her eyes.
“hello, you two. you’re going to have the best mom ever.”
“and dad too.” heeseung’s mom replied as she moved to stand in front of you two, seeing his grown son seemingly glowing as she spoke of him being the best dad to his two unborn children.
“okay. i gotta have to make the red meat well done then.” mama cuts out as she hastily moves to the kitchen to cook back her meat-based meal, letting auntie lee replace her place as she caresses the bump gently.
“how long has it been?” she asked as you opened your mouth to reply.
“we did the ultrasound two weeks ago. so it’s week 12 now.” heeseung cuts you off as she gazes back at her son.
“what have you two already prepared?”
“we gave a letter to the university for future parents and they agreed to let me take online classes entering 5 months because i only have three classes, one is that's doing a study case, and they let heeseung have parental leave if i give birth. i haven’t found the right doula yet but my supervisor at the daycare has a connection to one and i think it will be her. she has given me the number so i just have to text her,” you answered.
“is it near campus?” she replied.
“yeah, because i don’t want to graduate late. that’s why i decided to stay near campus during it.” you have thoughts on if you should just take a break this semester to focus on your pregnancy or not multiple times by now. but, of course, the rivalry comes back as you still want to keep pace with heeseung and your friends who will be graduating next semester.
“you should take a semester leave, (y/n).” heeseung cuts off your thought as you peek at him.
“i’ve already got what i wanted from the uni and it’s fine, heeseung. i can keep up.”
“well, you can, but what if you don’t take care of the babies?”
“of course, i can take care of the babies-“
“not by being stressed over college.”
“heeseung-“ you turn your body towards him as you grip both of his upper arms, firm hands holding him as you stare down at him. “i know what’s best for me. i know what my limits are. i’ve trusted you enough with the food but you should also trust me to know how to take care of myself outside of nutrition.”
your teeth are grinding against each other as your fiery gaze stays on him, even as you let go of the grip. it stays for a few more seconds as you turn back to head to the dads who seem to be forgotten by the sofa, seeing papa teary-eyed as he hugs and kisses your head before you let heeseung’s dad hug you.
his mom turns towards him, cupping his cheek. “she knows what she’s doing, heeseung.”
“but how should i know it’s right? cause that’s not right for me. my friend’s mom said that a pregnant woman should focus on preparing herself for her birth and doing college doesn’t seem to prepare her for that.” heeseung sighed as he looked at his mom, not expecting a slight hurt on her face.
“i was still doing my job when i was pregnant with you, heeseung. your dad trusted me for that cause he knows my limits, might be even more than i do. let her be and you might learn that she knows how to take care of herself, too.” her hand brushed away the fringe on his forehead, eyes glistening as she let out a small warm smile at him. the hurt falling away as heeseung sees her mom’s signature smile of knowing before she brought him in his arms, hugging him tight as he glances at you who is giving him a small look with a tight-lip smile before you turn away to the dining room.
-
heeseung stares at the glow-in-the-dark stars sticking on the ceiling. his back being stretched out on the floor as he laid on the comforter beside the single bed where you’re still playing with your phone. he remembered how he begged—trying to persuade—his parents to bring him home with them. but knowing that he’ll only be staying for one night and you two are “together”, they decide for him to stay with you instead. you can see how his fuming breath was held as you glanced at him with an unidentifiable look at the dining table, his parents believing you would let him stay in your bed.
but he insists on lying down on the floor, knowing the history between the two of you they don’t know, as you silently agree.
printed pictures still hang on one side of the room when he looks at them as long as the bedside lamp is still on. he remains silent, eyes tired from looking at his phone so much to distract him from his reality when he hears the rummaging movement on the mattress as you put the phone on the table.
“well, night, heeseung.” the click of the lamp is big in the white-noised room as darkness envelops the space, letting in the moon and streetlights outside beam their shine inside. your eyes easily adjust to the surroundings as you puff your one-less pillows on the bed to find the right position—knowing the ache of sleeping in the wrong position when you are carrying two fetuses inside you.
“since when did you work in a daycare?”
the man’s words overcome your action as you brush the cover of the pillow.
“why do you wanna know?” you put the pillows in the right position as you lay your head and back against it.
“since your mom proclaimed that you’ll be the mom ever.”
heeseung is reminded of the way you look when your mom says that, a look of pride coming out of your eyes as you unconsciously nod knowingly. even if you and him are close by proximity—by being your moms’ children, by being schoolmates, by having roommates who stay in proximity with each other—there’s still something that you don’t know about each other. because if the opposites know, they can use it as leverage to bring any of the two down.
“had a few babysitting gigs during high school days. i started to like it more and decided when i go to hybe, i’ve volunteered for a non-formal school for children and more. i decided to do a part-time job at a daycare and yeah…” you replied, laying down by your side as if you could see heeseung beside you when he is, in fact, below you.
“it doesn’t match with your major though.” heeseung gives a snide comment as you sigh loudly.
“so what if a business major can’t connect with my passion for childcare- fuck me.” you stopped to remind yourself to stop taking the bait from heeseung because you know he was making these comments to break your confidence within yourself. you could discuss how making and taking care of a business could resemble making and taking care of a child, but with the way he had pissed you off today in more ways than one, you rather stick that thought to yourself and instead, take offense towards him.
“why did you wrap your arm around my shoulders?”
heeseung glances towards the bed, seeing your silhouette on the top forming a dark shadow because of your comforter shielding it.
“i had to. so they know the babies are ours,” he replied with the thought that first came to mind after he already had his arm behind you—blaming his underlying consciousness for doing that.
“and it makes them believe we’re together when we’re not. look at us now.” both of your arms stretch out of the comforter to tell him just how big the situation you got yourself into cause how many white lies must you tell your parents to hide that this is because of a hookup, not because you are romantically linked?
your staggered giggles drop as you try to glance downwards at him, the arm nearest to the floor left hanging as heeseung didn’t comment on what you said. “well, this just got more complicated.”
“our situation is complicated since the start, (y/n).”
“well, i know who to blame for making our strings get more tangled with our parents cause fuck you, heeseung.”
he saw the lone middle finger standing tall from the silhouette of your figure before you picked yourself up and lay all your weight on the bed, turning the other side as heeseung followed; both of you staring at the opposites of the room, knowing that your bodies needed to rest so you can face each other again in the morning.
the time between that night and how you both lived after you went back to your own places near campus was a week when you texted him about the doula that you had told at your parent’s home. the car was left in neutral with the handbrake lifted as heeseung waited at the daycare where you work. his eyes gaze at the differing modes of transport each guardian is picking up the kids with before looking at the lobby as he sees you and another attendant saying goodbyes to the kids. he watches as a few of them hug you and even a few let their cheek rested against your growing bump before you take a glance forward at them who is going back to be with their parents, noticing his car for a few seconds before you return inside to take your items.
the backpack is hanging off your shoulders as you take another sliced fried potato from the container when you enter the passenger’s seat beside his driver’s one, resting your back against the seat with your bag there to support you. “hello! i’ve sent you the address, right?”
he stares at you with his squinting eyes, “you should not eat that.”
“it’s cravings, heeseung. it’s totally normal. the doula can count me on that.” you chew another fry as heeseung lets out a mumble under his breath as he moves the handbrake and puts the gear to drive, reeling the car forward as he drives you to the doula’s office. both of your moms have suggested several doulas for you to choose from, but you reminded them you’re having twins. so having a doula who specializes in taking care of moms birthing multiples will be helpful as it is also your first time.
playfully, you fly a french fry like an airplane towards heeseung as he drives, like the usual time you try to feed kids at the daycare. it nudges against his lips a few times before he bit it, pulling it off your fingers; making you let out a chuckle cause he can’t even resist it himself.
the parking lot was pretty barren as you only saw a few vehicles when you both walked out of the cars. you adjust the backpack once again on your back as the chime from the car tells you it is now locked as you enter the office building.
thanking the receptionist, you and he stood in front of the doula’s office as you knocked the door.
the door opens as a soft-spoken woman says from the inside, “miss (l/n)(y/n)?”
“yes, i am.”
“oh, come in. come in.” the door widened as heeseung could see the things inside the large office room. a desk in one corner and a cabinet stood behind it. accolades and certifications by the desk with a sofa on the corner beside the door. a box of what seems to be baby toys beside the sofa as posters are hanging on the wall. from the anatomical look of a baby inside their mom’s uterus to words of encouragement towards mothers.
“i’m haseul. nice to meet you.” the woman shook your hand as she then glanced at heeseung who was still wandering around.
“oh, uh, this is heeseung, the babies’ daddy.” you refer to his name as he looks at the lady, shaking her hand as she looks between the two of you.
“so, both of you aren’t married or dating-“
“no, we’re childhood friends and hooked up, and this happened.” heeseung blurts out as you raised your eyebrows, poking your tongue in the cheek. haseul nodded her head as she let both of you sit down in front of the desk.
“first, congratulations on the twins. you must be nervous to find that out.”
“of course, especially as a first-time mom. but, i’m feeling pretty okay.”
“that’s good, i’ve also sent you the questionnaire for you to fill on your plan for giving birth…” haseul’s voice traces out as heeseung glances at the portrait frame of her holding onto a baby with a mom, a glance at the book about post-partum, and a baby doll on top of the cabinet right in front of a corner window. he could only catch onto some words he recognized from jeongin telling him—birth, dilation, cramps, anesthesia, cesarean—as he sensed himself getting overwhelmed, especially when he had the second preliminary match in two days and his gig in being the documentation for a baseball match for hybe uni too.
his thumbs caressed his fingertips as he sensed the sweat forming on his palm, the same feeling he has every time he has to go to match. to then realize just how ready you seem by how eloquently you say the words for your requests to the doula like you’ve grown up much more than he is even though both of you are the same age. sure, he felt the leverage the first time when he sent you food and a few tips he makes beomgyu do; but his knowledge couldn’t compete with yours and it scares him to know he is losing his stance from above you. to know that you’re much more ready than him.
“heeseung…” he heard someone calling for him, before something wrapped around his wrist, taken aback to see you brought him back to the room he was in.
“sorry… what did you say?” heeseung replied as haseul gave him a warm smile.
“i’ve heard from (y/n) that you have known some knowledge of pregnancies but i could give you some sources to read because it is your first time as a dad as well.” the woman said to him calmly, looking at heeseung as if she can read his body language. your hold on his wrist stays as you rub the inside of his wrist with your thumb. “we have also discussed that (y/n) will try the normal route with water birth and if she can’t handle it, she’ll be going with cesarean. we could also do an appointment every two weeks as both of you are students now, but it is best if you come so you can understand each process as she is entering the second trimester.”
“i understand. i’ll try my best to set my schedule so i can join her.” heeseung glanced at you, who was giving a nod before you let go of your hold as he seemed to be anchored back in the room. the woman gives a small smile as she starts a lecture on the process of pregnancy, childhood, and parenthood. another class that heeseung doesn’t want to get in the first place, but knowing his determination to be the best dad ever—as what his mom believes him to be—he follows along with writing notes in his book as you have with your laptop. the class that he has to pass so he can take care of his children as best as he can.
-
even with the music booming from around his space, heeseung still felt like something was different. his eyes rested on the plastic-colored cup filled with a concoction of alcohol he didn’t know—he could taste the gin and what seemed to be fanta in it. the sigma mu’s frat house lits up in motion as he eyes the way the expensive big-ass speakers are scattered around the room, gazing at the familiar faces of his peers and juniors he has seen while walking around campus.
something stirs within him as he eyes his friends who are here—beomgyu who is by the speaker as he talks with the dj, jimin with his dance crew friends, jeongin with his class friend, while heeseung sits with sunoo and sunghoon on either side of him. that’s when he caught onto the silhouette of some familiar faces every time he comes across a certain person; every time he comes across you.
“excuse me, gang.” heeseung would like to thank himself for being able to stand up so stable even with the nearly empty cup, excusing himself from his basketball teammates to walk towards the frat boys of sigma mu to find the vp and his girlfriend by his side.
“winter…” he calls with the nickname he heard you and others call her before as said girl turns towards him with her boyfriend’s arm still behind the sofa.
“lee heeseung.” she spoke out with a grin on her face, “what makes you come in front of us?”
“i was wondering,” ‘fuck it’ heeseung drinks up the whole liquid that remains inside the cup, hoping that his alcohol tolerance still be able to support him to be stable, “has (y/n) ever talked to you about a doula check-up or some other thing?”
“she should’ve told me if there’s gonna be a checkup but i don’t think there is one nearest from now.” minjeong replies as she lets sungchan take care of her drink so she can comfortably talk to the boy in front of them.
“ah, really?”
“yeah!” minjeong replied before giving another smile. that’s when someone crashes to wrap their arms around minjeong and sungchan, making the two jump as they turn to see ryujin’s head between both of them before giving minjeong a peck on the temple.
“hey, (y/n)’s baby daddy. whatchu up to?”
heeseung chuckles as he looks between the two girls—”no wonder you have them as your friends, all of them are similar after all”—before he opens his mouth.
“just checking what’s (y/n) up to-“
“well, she’s not here. for your information.” ryujin lets out a smirk, “you must really wanna talk to her about something.”
“a doula appointment.” sungchan replied, “and you know how (y/n) is about…” the boy glances at, “him.”
heeseung’s teeth grit against each other as he senses they are hiding something from him. maybe because of your doing so you can prove to everyone that he isn’t as committed to his children as he spoke about.
“you and minjeong aren’t home, so i presume (y/n) is with chaer-“
“someone’s calling my name?”
heeseung sighs as he turns towards the voice of chaeryeong who is holding two cups of drinks as she gives one to ryujin.
“he’s asking about (y/n).” minjeong nods toward chaeryeong when she lets out a small ah before turning her head to stare at heeseung.
“since chan here invited all four of us at the frat party, she really wanted to be here but, of course, cause she’s preggo with YOUR children, she couldn’t. but all of us went out of the apartment together and she was holding a duffle bag of some sort.”
“where is she going?” heeseung doesn’t hesitate to ask, making your three friends look at each other and giggle.
“you seem desperate enough. she’s at the park near our apartment complex. she complained about needing a light workout because of how much her back is hurting.” ryujin said as heeseung could picture the park, knowing where you lived because he had picked you up for your trip back home for the weekend.
“okay, thanks all of you.” heeseung places the cup on the table beside the sofa where minjeong sits and turns away, letting the sense of fresh air flowing inside the frat house guide him to the nearest exit as he arrived on the pavement, feeling the stuffiness inside him getting lighter as he gave a text in his group chat he’ll be leaving early.
the walk there was pleasant, to say the least, because the suburban town the campus is in is pretty sparse compared to the city where heeseung and you live. there is enough place for it to be called a big town but not enough skyscrapers to be called a metropolis. and with the inconsiderable amount of apartment complexes available near campus, he already pinpointed the park where you might be.
crossing the black-and-white stripes, he arrived at one of the entrances of the park where he still could see a few people doing their activities inside—night jogging, playing chess under the streetlights, and a couple who was on a date. he was reminded of what ryujin said about how you might need exercise, but the duffle bag says to him you might stay in one place rather than walking around the park as the main event of your exercise time.
heeseung’s feet instantly brought him to the place that he had gone before in this park as it is the same park near where sunghoon, jay, and jake live—maybe they live in the same complex as you do—when he finds the silhouette lightly jog behind the trees from the path he is on. the sound of rubber meeting the concrete slaps across the night’s atmosphere as he sees you in the middle of the basketball court, wearing a sweatshirt where he could see the bump pushing against the fabric. the basketball bouncing between your palm and the ground creates the familiar sound as you jog toward the ring and shoot your shot. the ball hits the backboard enough that it bounces into the basket.
“fuck yes…” you exclaimed as you grabbed the bouncing ball into your hand, heaving as you brushed the sweat of your skin right underneath the spotlight shining on the court.
that’s when you pick up the scraping on the concrete and clap when you turn around to look at the last person you want to see tonight.
“you still got it,” heeseung commented, making you scoff as you took a few steps back so you stood adjacent to the free throw circle. holding up the basketball between your hands as you tried to remember the position before pushing towards the ring. the basketball curves as it hits the edge of the box instead.
“dammit!”
“you spun your ball,” heeseung replies as the ball flies into his arm, naturally guiding it into a dribble as he walks towards you.
“i didn’t.”
“your wrist was twisted and it makes your hand doesn’t flop straight towards the ring.” he walks towards your side as he shows you the way to hold it, making you glance at the arm muscles that form from holding the ball so much as he throws the ball, creating a perfect arch that it bounces on the back of the rim before it flies and the basket catches its fall. your body immediately reaches for it before heeseung can as you return to your spot whilst dribbling alternating between left and right.
“i know.” you lightly roll your eyes as you grab onto the basketball once again, wiping your sweat palm against your sweatshirt before you feel the right grip as you return to your position, reminding yourself to let the ball fly and not twist your ball before you threw it.
you heard a click of the tongue as you saw a pair of hands reaching to hold yours, making your hand move to the position as you picked up heeseung’s breath beside your ear. startled, your shoulder nudges against his chest as you hear a small “ack” before you throw the basketball, seeing it twirl in the air. you can hear heeseung saying “i told you so.” before it bounces against the backboard, but you are ready as you stride towards it to grab the ball before heeseung catches it and you quickly do a layup, gliding the ball as it bounces right at the small box above the rim as it bounces inside. you turn your body to face him, head tilted with a smug smile as the ball bounces before it rolls to heeseung’s feet.
but the smile falls as you see heeseung who is in his element, walking back to the three-point line and shooting his shot as the ball, once again, creates a perfect arc. the basket catches it into its net as heeseung walks towards the center of the court with a wide grin on his face. the ball bounces near you as you hold it and dribble once more, glancing at it, the court, and heeseung once again as you shake your head, scolding yourself to take things slow for your and your babies’ sake. the sudden epiphany makes your eyelids flutter as you dribble away at a steady walking pace around the court.
your footsteps are met with another as heeseung’s legs stride towards you, a smirk on his face showing as he replies, “that’s why you were put in the point guard position.”
“hmm…” your reply is small as you continue to dribble away the basketball, making you and he walk around the court together before he cuts through the silence.
“why did you stop playing basketball in high school?”
your body stood still as you let your muscle memory do your job of dribbling the ball, shifting your head towards his even if you look away.
“you were, well, it seems to be still are, good at it,” he added.
the memories of your first year in high school from the extracurricular showcase come back as you are already determined to stop playing basketball, focusing on doing something else that you were interested in.
“i got tired of it,” you replied, but heeseung seemed to notice that it was not all the truth.
“and…”
the ball stops bouncing as you hold it against you, wrapping your arm across your front along with the ball as you glare at him and reply, “you.”
“me?”
“yeah, you. i stopped playing because of you.” you turn around and set your eyes on the bench where your bag is. your water bottle calling for you so you can hydrate yourself as you give in.
“really, huh? wow, that was another victory i didn’t expect-“
“fucking hell, heeseung. that’s why- this-“ you gulped down your saliva, “what you become because of it is why i stop. i know our moms are outstanding basketball players at their time and we’ve gotten the signal to be like them but-“ you hold back as you throw the bottle inside the bag, holding yourself down as your hands form fists.
basketball has always been a large part of your life before you were even born. your mom and heeseung’s met because of their love of basketball as they became skilled players together. your mom and dad meet up because of basketball. you still remember the amount of pictures of your parents in their high school days in their basketball jerseys in the photo albums. even if they don’t pursue it professionally, it still becomes a large part of their life as it also spills onto you.
with the amount of time you have interacted with children—as it makes you see your own experience as a child in a different view—many of them like to mimic what their parents do before they form their own sense of self. you can see it with the way one child at the daycare is always playing doctor with dolls, figures, and plushies because one of their parents is a doctor. you were like that. you’ve heard and seen just how impactful basketball is to your mom that you want to be just like her, making you join the teams during your elementary and middle schools.
to see and feel the influence of your rival during practice and tournaments around you was overwhelming.
the tug-of-war between the basketball in between both of your hands is just the beginning of what kinds of rivalry you and him have during practice. even if your coaches assigned you to the same team, you or he, depending on who is first, will reach out to the coach to be put into the other team. even if you two had to practice together, hidden aggression is flying to the roof, which includes passing the ball so hard that it had even made your nose bleed. as time goes on and the many matches you and he have to compete in as you two have to watch each other to “encourage” each other’s team, you had notice the way you fell out of love of basketball because of how there are more bad memories associated with it even if you were being trusted as a captain for one season and scoring many buzzer beaters to let your team and school win the tournament.
“you’ve become so much better with it as i lost interest. i still remember when the coach brought me to the nurse’s office cause you passed the ball so hard that it hit my face. in the middle of practice for the last season in middle school, that’s when i knew…” you take steps closer as you now stand in front of him.
“i knew i’m in a losing battle against you.”
your muscles twitched as you wanted to let out a smirk when you noticed the hidden expression heeseung failed to hide, the little shock he had gotten to show. yet, the emotion that is enveloping you held it down, as you now had to tell him the truth. why your rivalry seemed to expand outside of the scope that both of you are in.
“that’s why i quit basketball. that’s why i decide to pursue my own path even with you tailing behind me to comment on my every move. because i am sick of you. yet, i held back. i had to retaliate, just like what i did on that fucking playground when we were 5. cause i’m not afraid of you even though i know i’ll lost in the end.” you chew the inside of your cheeks as heeseung seems to read your face while letting his brain figure out what you meant.
“that’s why i wanted a fucking truce.”
with the way your facial muscles contort, it hurts you more and more as you feel the tears of pain forming, harboring the feelings you have felt for nearly two decades now. with your hand raised, you wiped the small drop of tear as you let out a huge breath, feeling just a bit of the weight in your rivalry falls off—right along with you.
as you let your body sit on the concrete ground, you push yourself back slowly as you settle and lay on it. heeseung’s conflicted face peeking from your vision while you’re trying to blur it out by focusing on the night sky. though the light pollution is still around you, you can still see tiny specks of stars behind the shadow of clouds of the night. stretching your back on the ground as you let your backbone rest after trying to make you stand upright while carrying two growing fetuses.
eyelids close, you let nature take control in calming your emotions and let heeseung process the information himself. the first time you truly open up yourself behind the mask of your persona—maybe when he stays the night in your childhood room is one as you recall your feet resting against his sleeping figure, contemplating if you want to wake him up or not before gazing at the dusting basketball that you decide to bring back to your apartment after papa helps in blowing more air so it doesn’t sag too much.
the sound of rustling leaves seems to be louder as you rest still, hearing a muffled thump beside you as you open your eyes, looking at your feet to then find another pair lying down right beside yours.
“you’re the one that was throwing a fit and ruining my toy truck after i apologized.” you sighed as you took a peek to see heeseung’s head turning towards you, asserting dominance once again before looking back. you knew that if you replied with the same vibe to assert your own dominance, it would actually break you apart faster than the rate that you are now. however, you have one question that will be the right one to ask him about.
“did you mean that?”
“‘mean’ what?”
“the apology? did you mean that? cause i want you to look at it from my eyes, lee.”
heeseung traces back to that memory when he sees you teary-eyed face and his mom beside him, the boys he was playing with snickering on the side as they saw him getting in trouble with his then-friend. the “sorry” mumbled out of him with his eyes on you but mind on the boys, who seemed to not snicker at him, but at you for being a pissy fit. but, deep down, he knew…
“i meant it.” his reply makes you turn your head, mirroring his form as you let out a slight pout.
“with that smile you were giving? hell no-“ you rolled your eyes.
“i genuinely meant it. the boys that were there, they were behind you and they were laughing at us. i had to juggle facing you and them. i had to look fierce yet still can give you an apology. maybe that’s why you see the smirk that you see. i was a fucking child, (y/n). we’re not as good as we are not in hiding complicated emotions to only let out one.”
your chest rises and falls as you see the apology smirk in a different light. you don’t know if you should easily believe that or not, but after taking it into consideration, you could feel a small part of your inner child healing up before you realize the damage that you also have done to him.
“if it is genuine; i’m sorry, then. about the truck. you know how i felt now and why i did that.” you return to look at the sky once again as you hear the rustle beside you before peeking at heeseung who is also staring into the night, listening to him humming before you return to gaze back again.
“what would happen if i actually have the emotional intelligence to know that you were sincere that day?” your words cut off the silence as you felt the guilt pouring for it to be transformed into humor that was reciprocated well by heeseung’s chuckles.
“well, we wouldn’t have these two.” he playfully poked your belly, making you let out a small shriek before holding onto his wrist as you held his hand down between the two of you and you pivoted your head to see him.
“in all seriousness, i think we might have been the friends our moms see us to be because let me tell you, they see us differently than what we are having.” his words are replied with a hum as you added,
“i notice that too. glad we can be more civil in front of them.”
“we still could, you know.”
with the way you didn’t hold on to his wrist tightly, you felt the limb moving under your touch before his palm rested underneath your own. the wind blows against your sweaty top as it gives you shivers from the cold, hoping that your own temperature and a lifeline can help warm it up. and you can feel it warmer as you see heeseung pivot to mirror you. his fingers slid between yours as if he knew the little shivered breath you led out.
“have each other’s backs. emulate what they want.”
your eyes are galloping to the way the spotlight shines half of his as the other one is cast in shadows from facing the concrete. you could smell a faint scent of alcohol on him but with the life in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t drunk. the way his eyes are also peering with slight twitches as before connecting with your gaze.
pushing one side of your upper body, you cup onto heeseung’s cheek as he leans up to connect your lips. your shoulder is pushing down against the ground as heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, making it steady as you can hear his muffled hum from your kiss. your fingers curl to hold yourself up better before you feel his other hand reach for your waist and push you down so you both lay on the side.
both of you take turns to take a breath as you sense the tip of his nose brushing against yours. every time you let out a breath, the other’s lips linger before connecting once. your legs curled as you felt the ticklish sensation surging through your nerves before heeseung pushed your lower back so it could stay for one last long kiss before he pulled away. your noses touch each other as you feel his hand on your waist trails to your bump, pressing it down gently as you lean back to see him looking down at the body he is holding. then, his eyes flick back to you as he can sense you slip away, turning yourself away from him as you push yourself up with your arms.
grabbing the lone basketball and putting it in the duffle bag, you zip it up and shift to find heeseung now upright, yet still with his legs stretched out on the ground.
“baby steps, heeseung.” you pull away before giving a small salute.
“baby steps.”
your voice echoes as heeseung watches you walk away, biting his bottom lip before a chuckle falls out of him as he knows he had to text you back his question about the appointment, knowing that you will reply to him.
-
beomgyu breathed out as the elevator opened up to the now familiar hallway, holding onto the box that he had still had to bring even if heeseung already told him he’ll do the next one himself because of what he told him. the box held fresh ingredients that jeongin also pinpoint—courtesy of his doctor mom—on what you should eat, considering now that there are two of them inside you. beomgyu couldn’t help but feel melancholic knowing that this was the last time he’d probably visit your apartment complex as… well…
but, other than bringing you today’s box, beomgyu is here to pick you up for the doula appointment as heeseung will follow suit after practice. even his bandmates are weirded out as to why he has to do the errands, but knowing that they’re in the process of rest mode whilst preparing to create new music and focusing on academics, he allows it, especially with how long he has been best friends with the guy.
he huffs as he positions the box again against his upper body, sliding his pointer finger to the bell as he picks up the familiar bell sounding in the room. but it seems like there’s no one inside. he’s glad that he remembers the pin ryujin has given him as he pushes inside the door to see the clean empty living room of the apartment he has been in countless times when he had to put the box in himself. pushing off his shoes, he walks to the kitchen and places the box on the island counter before rushing towards the intercom to turn off the bell.
that’s when he heard the noise of something familiar.
a guitar strumming sound of chords and the changes he recognized.
beomgyu took tiny steps towards one of the ajar doors in the hallway as the realization of the familiar sound widened his eyes. of course it was familiar to him, it was his song.
the nearly acoustic rendition of “skipping stones” with a familiar voice he had heard makes him peek through the door to find you sitting cross-legged on your bed, holding a nearly all-white guitar as you strum while having headphones on your head, singing the daylights out as your window lets the stream of lights in through the window. he lets you sing as he can see you glow—jeongin had mentioned to him that pregnant women have this whole glow on them. maybe that’s what he was seeing in you. the way your fingers glide against the fretboard with your eyes on it or close as you sing the lyrics makes beomgyu mesmerized.
the last ring of strings strummed is heard from your rumble speaker when you notice clapping from outside of your headphones, making you look up to find beomgyu behind your slightly open door. his clapping turns to hollering as lets out a wide thin smile before looking away; you don’t want him to see you flustered. that is when you realize why you’re here.
“oh fuck, the doula appointment.”
“yeah!” beomgyu replies outside as you quickly tidy the guitar up into your case and you step into your wardrobe to grab some more clothes that are much more appropriate for your appointment.
“sorry, about that. beom.”
“nah, no worries. i can wait.”
“thanks!” you close the door as you quickly change your clothes, deciding for a flowy blouse with a rubber-banded culotte, needing to remind yourself to buy maternity clothes because you are slowly running out of clothes that fit you. you wore a bit of sunscreen as you got a message from mama telling you to embrace the pregnancy glow your friends seemed to notice is exuding out of you as you’re in the second trimester. wearing the eau du toilette that doesn’t make you as dizzy—unlike perfume—you open the door to see beomgyu leaning against the wall where it hangs a frame of you and your roommates in photo booths.
“you ready?” he held his hand out as you nodded, you put your hands out before beomgyu grabbed the strap of the bag from your hold, startling you before you returned to your usual state. if your face isn’t warm enough, it’s now warmer from the embarrassment.
the walk down to his car is silent as he helps with buckling the seatbelt to the side. seeing how much your stomach is rested underneath the strap makes him giggle as you recognize the smell of pot from beomgyu’s very appropriate old sedan car.
“hopefully you aren’t high while driving me.” you give a cheeky grin.
“of course not. heeseung will actually kill me if he finds that i dui with you.”
beomgyu twists the key of the ignition as the car turns on—yes, that’s how old his car is—as the sound of a loud rock song plays from the rock fm you recognized. his hand reaches for the button as you react,
“no need. i’m okay with it.”
he hums as he reaches for the volume to turn the sound down, not letting the rattling of the sound in the interior startle you as he pulls the car out of the parking space and into the road.
“can you check the quickest route to the office?” beomgyu said as he brushed his wolf-cut hair.
“of course.” you lean back against the leather seat as you open the map app on your phone, telling beomgyu the roads to the doula’s office. the song has changed to a familiar song by tom petty playing as you notice how beomgyu glances at you.
“what?” you called out with a few chuckles.
“i didn’t expect you to like my song, well txt’s song.” his reply is met with your own giggle as you lean back.
“even if i hate heeseung. that doesn’t mean i have to hate his friends, you know?”
your eyebrow is raised as he gives another quick look before focusing on the road, “if you don’t believe me, i’ve been a fan of band your band since, like, sophomore year when you formed.”
“why? i really wanna hear from a fan's perspective.”
your giggle warms his heart as you answered, “i just relate to it, ya hear? a band that talks about the hardships of finding oneself and the struggle of growing but in a more intelligible way other, especially ‘skipping stones’ from your newest album.”
both of beomgyu’s hands are on the steering wheel as you feel the brake of the car before turning to the curb of where the office is, parking nearest to the entrance as the car stops and he pulls the hand brake. both of you sitting inside as you waited for heeseung to arrive in a few minutes from the last time he texted you.
“why ‘skipping stones’ specifically?”
“hmm…” you suppressed the grin that is threatening to go out before replying with, “interpreting self-struggle with the idea of skipping stone is… in it of itself, very poignant. to correlate the body of water with your own and the stones you’re throwing as the struggle you’re facing.” you let out a huge sigh, “i don’t know- it’s something i understand, especially if someone else is doing the skipping stone to you, feeling that emotion sinking into you, replacing the water’s place…”
you glanced at beomgyu who was definitely staring at you, his hands on his lap as he let out a solemn smile, agreeing with what you said. you quietly nod and take a sharp intake, trying to find the right words to cut the rising awkwardness between the two of you, “other than that, the freaking dissonance on the harmony is so good. it gives a sense of unbalanced buoyancy as if you’re a leaf floating on the water and the skipping stone makes it unstable. great job on that.”
“thanks!”
“of course.” you nearly slapped yourself for leaning closer to the middle console, but beomgyu seemed to not react as much when you felt a bit of your finger touching his. “can’t wait for the next release. no pressure.”
the corner of beomgyu’s lips rose as he giggled, a boyish grin on his face before his expression changed, “don’t worry, me and the band won’t let the fans down.” he replied as you leaned back, head nodding. that’s when you hear the rumbling of the car right beside yours as you see the appearance of heeseung’s newer model car.
“gotta go. thank you so much for bringing me here,” you said as beomgyu helped pick your bag up from the backseat.
“of course, (y/n). gotta have to thank heeseung for letting me do so, but hey…” you felt his hand reaching and now touching your wrist, making you turn your body while nearly opening the door.
“i've known you since high school but we never hang out together cause of heeseung. maybe we could hang out, with your girls and my guys? if heeseung is already melting his ice down then i think that’s okay for us and our friends to hang out. it’s up to you, though.”
you suppress an amused smile as you think about it. thinking about how long have you been crushing on the boy in front of you and how you wanna shake heeseung a thank you for letting him do the errands, maybe even to your noise-canceling headphones that make him notice just how much you like him- no, his band. yeah.
“i’ll think about it. heeseung and i don’t have a formal truce yet but based on what we talked about last time, maybe it could work.”
“sweet-“
you heard a knocking on the door before you turned around to catch heeseung’s silhouette behind the glass window.
“i’ll talk to the girls so we can arrange a time.”
“me too with the guys.”
“okay, bye beomgyu.” the car door unlocks as you nuzzle the door open while hearing beomgyu’s own “bye” from the driver’s seat. heeseung helps to hold the door as you step out.
“thanks for her ride, gyu.”
“don’t mention it, hee. we might even have to ride with her often.” beomgyu said right as the door that heeseung held closed. the engine turns on as the car drives off the parking. you stand right beside heeseung as he looks at you, who still has a lingering smile on your face.
“why are you smiling, (y/n)?”
he lightly nudges your palm with his as you turn your head to him.
“you’ll see, hee.” as you took off towards the office, leaving heeseung once again alone as he then followed you.
part 2
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Pretty Glossy Lips
Pairing: Fushiguro Megumi x Reader
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : College AU where Kugisaki is oddly observant.
Kugisaki is bothered… her eyes keep darting back and forth, it’s as if that ‘thing’ is begging her to look at it.
She quickly shakes her head as her fingers go back to her keyboard as she types away and has her screen divided in three in front of her if she includes her iPad, all with a word doc, an ai tool and ai paraphraser.
“Argh— I feel like I won’t finish in time.” A voice beside her complains making her turn to face the owner of the voice. Beside he is a boy who has his pink hair disheveled, his face highlighted by the light of the bulb in the study room.
“Shut up, Itadori—!” Kugisaki starts shaking Itadori in fury as poor Itadori has his hands waving around as he tries to type in some letters. She hears another sigh as her eyes squint at the other voice. “You got a problem , Fushiguro huhh?”
But her eyes focus on Fushiguro’s lips.
She is wondering if her mind is getting too stressed out but she swears she thinks his lips today look slightly pinker with more gloss if that makes sense…also was that glitter—?!
“Don’t push your anger on me.” He says, eyes not leaving his phones as he types on the screen. “We had a month long period for this assignment. If you guys keep this up, you might not graduate college.” Fushiguro adds which makes Kugisaki flatter and go back to her assignments, eyes trailing to his lips one time.
Just then they hear a knock to the study room as a figure pops their head in. “Sorry I got late. My professor kept going on and on.” You say, with a sheepish smile taking a seat beside Fushiguro.
Kugisaki inwardly smiles as she noticed how quickly Fushiguro’s head seemed to turn as soon as he hears you voice and now you sit with him smiling and continuing on about your professor. The brown shorter haired girl shakes her head when she looks over to Fushiguro who seemed to try and act nonchalantly but no one can deny the blush on his face plus the constipated look.
You were a friend met through Itadori, you guys once got paired in a semester long project and somewhere in between that and now, you guys were as inseparable as one can be, in particular Fushiguro and you. Surprisingly the dark haired stone faced boy was quick to warm up to you; probably it was due to the aura you gave exuded.
You gave out warmth with your warm smile and bright attitude, which makes you stop and take in the way your gaze reflected the warm sun from outside.
Every smile.
Every lighthearted laugh.
It always felt genuine which made Kugisaki adore you to the brim of her heart, you were just so adorable—! But it seemed she wasn’t the only one.
“You guys got only 10 minutes.” You say as you peer over the table to take a peek at their progress, and mentally cringe due to the lack of said progress. “It’s okay! you guys can get it done.” You cheered which earns another subconscious smile from Fushiguro.
“Shit— I should not have played stardew with you Itadori!” Kugisaki grumbled, tugging a piece of hair behind her ear as she types away making, every second count. “It’s all your fault.”
“Eh?” Her statement makes the pink haired boy stop typing and pointing at himself in genuine confusion. “How is it my fault when you were the one inviting me to play?”
As Kugisaki turns to took away, she sees you and Fushiguro now sitting as tad bit closer to before with your shoulders slightly leaning into Fushiguro’s. Your eyes seem to wander nervously taking peeks at her and Itadori while Fushiguro poor figits with his pretty glossy lips pulled into something which is neither a frown or a smile, one hand on the table with a finger tapping away while the other under. Maybe playing with your fingers?
Who know, Kugisaki doesn’t for certain. But she can bet that Fushiguro is currently thinking about you while you’re sitting beside him from his dumb look.
Kugisaki shakes her head and keeps her nose to herself,as she begins typing but she swears it lasted just a millisecond second but she caught it.
In that split second her eyes watches you lean forward and places a kiss on his lips, making the boy stiffen up and pink when you thought Kugisaki and Itadori weren’t looking.
When she sees you about to turn to her and Itadori’s direction, she quickly pulls her eyes back on the screen acting normal. Shit. She thinks. What was that? They’re dating? Shit, why didn’t they tell us? Shit, Fushiguro I didn’t know you had that in you. She dapped him up in her mind. They could have atleast told us though…
Kugisaki uses ever every once of her strength to keep her hands on her keyboard to type away but then there was a sudden click in her brain, which put all the pieces in place. Fushiguro’s glossy lips were from you! Your lip gloss on his lips! Now she can’t stand it any longer as she pulls her hair in realization.
“Why didn’t you guys tell us you’re dating?!” Kugisaki gets up from her seat and points accusingly at the pair infront of her. This makes you let out a embarrassed and confused sound while Fushiguro becomes red—he was caught in broad daylight, as he scrowl at her. “Shut up, Kugisaki.”
“Ahh— I knew your lips were so pink and shiny, no wonder! You have someone kissing them that shade!” With each taunt spewing out of his friend’s mouth, he blushes a deeper tone.
“What? You guys are dating?” Itadori chirps in. “Shit, Kugisaki—! The countdown for the submission started! We only got a minutes left.”
“Submit it Itadori—!” Kugisaki’s attention solely on her laptop. “An incomplete assignment is better than late assignment!”
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#fushiguro imagine#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen fushiguro#megumi x reader#megumi fluff#megumi x you#fushiguro fluff#fushiguro x you#fushiguro x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Back For More | J.WW
+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.
+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader
+ word count: 2.7k
+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)
You were tired, very tired.
Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.
Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.
With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.
Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?
What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.
All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.
Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.
Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.
“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.
What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?
And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.
With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.
Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.
“Is there something on my face, birdy?”
You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”
Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.
Oh.
It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.
"Hello?"
"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...
"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?
As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”
"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.
"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."
Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.
"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.
"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.
"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.
Which it did.
Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.
“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.
“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.
“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!
One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.
He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?
“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.
"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.
"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.
"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.
Or so you thought?
Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.
Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.
"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.
He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.
Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.
You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.
Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.
You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?
Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.
[...]
While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.
"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.
"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.
Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"
He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?
"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?
His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.
"It's none of your business so stay out of it."
"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.
"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.
"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.
Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.
He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.
Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.
"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.
"Sorry, were you busy with him?"
You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.
Directions? Did she really...?
As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.
The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...
Part Two: Coming soon...
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Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri, roommates!au
Masterlist
Summary: You, Lando, and Oscar are roommates. The three of you promise to take care of each other. It takes you all far too long to admit just how much you mean it. featuring dj!Lando for cece :) based on a blurb I wrote for my 1k celebration so if the first bit feels familiar that’s why! 7.4k words
Warnings: alcohol, mentions of vomiting (non graphic), illness, a breakup, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)
Lando’s not expecting the phone call he gets from you. It’s late, too late, really, for him to even be awake, let alone for you to be calling. Oscar’s sitting on the couch next to him, gaming controller in hand, and when Lando swipes to answer the call, he mouths the words who is it? Lando mouths your name in reply, and Oscar’s half asleep flat expression turns into a look of concern. The three of you are roommates, but you’re gone for the night. Lando didn’t ask where you were going when you left.
“Hello?” He asks, waiting for your response.
There’s a sniffle, then a hiccupy gasp for air that has Lando sitting up straight in his seat. “Lan. Could you- fuck, m’sorry, just- d’you think you could pick me up?”
Lando stares widely at Oscar for a moment, heart clenching in his chest. You sound upset- more than upset, really. He stands up, already searching frantically for his keys.
“Yeah, love, of course,” he says as Oscar follows suit and stands up. “Should I bring Oscar?”
You sniffle again. “Yeah, please, just…”
“It’s okay. Send me your location, yeah? Take a deep breath, we’ll be there soon.”
You mumble something, and then you hang up on him. Lando shoves his phone in his pocket and looks up at Oscar, who’s holding the keys to his car. That works. Oscar heads for the door, while Lando makes a pit stop in the kitchen. When he meets his friend in the entryway, Oscar’s staring at him with confusion.
“She’s crying,” Lando says in explanation, holding a paper bag close to his chest.
They make it across town in record time. Oscar groans when they pull into the apartment complex you’d sent the location of.
“Isn’t this her boyfriend’s place?” He asks, brows furrowed.
Lando doesn’t get a chance to answer, because you step out of the front door, and they’re both distracted. Oscar swears under his breath, and Lando follows suit at the sight of you- you’re in a t-shirt and shorts. There’s snow on the ground. Oscar pulls his hoodie over his head just before you make it to the car door.
You climb into the backseat and collapse in on yourself. Both Lando and Oscar are turned towards you, and Lando’s sure their facial expressions are matching looks of concern. They both hand over their items without a word- Oscar’s hoodie, and Lando’s carton of ice cream and a spoon. You pull the hoodie over your head and open the ice cream.
“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Oscar says, voice low.
Lando nods. “Yeah. We can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.”
You nod and chew on your lower lip, and the light from the street lamp outside catches on the tear tracks on your cheeks. “He dumped me. Can we just go home?”
Lando reaches his hand back to squeeze yours. Your fingers are ice cold. “Of course,” he says softly.
As Oscar pulls away, he and Lando exchange a look of worry and anger. They’ve never liked your boyfriend, but they hate to see you hurting, too.
“Thanks,” you add, voice small in the backseat. You hold onto Lando’s hand tightly. “I knew I could count on you guys.”
Lando squeezes your hand again. You’re quiet most of the way back, and he lets it go. Oscar’s right to not push you to talk about it. That’ll come in its own time.
Oscar drives back to your shared apartment, pulling into a parking space in the garage. He gets out before Lando and slips around to the backseat, opening the door for you. The Aussie wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side.
When you all get upstairs, you collapse onto the couch. Lando follows suit, not wanting to leave your side. Oscar isn’t far behind. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, something quiet that Lando doesn’t pay attention to. He just watches you for signs of distress. You stare at the tv blankly and chip away at the ice cream with your spoon, leaning on Oscar as Lando leans on you. Slowly, the three of you melt into the couch, none of you wanting to break the silence and suggest going to bed.
…..
Oscar wakes up on the couch at 3 in the morning, and when he looks around, this awful feeling hits him. It’s like someone’s reached into his chest and clawed his heart out. You’re laying there, your head on his stomach, one of your arms over his thigh. Lando’s laying nearly on top of you- together, the three of you are like a stack of toppled dominoes. There are blankets strewn over all of you. Oscar can vaguely remember Lando’s attempt to cover all three of you up as you all began to drift off.
You’re fast asleep, and when Oscar peers down at you he can still see the tear tracks on your cheeks. He’s never liked your boyfriend- ex boyfriend, now, thank god- but breakups are awful no matter what. He’s got half a mind to go over and confront the guy, because who leaves their girlfriend- ex girlfriend- to walk out of their apartment in the dead of winter in a t-shirt and shorts? Even if you had broken up, he seemingly hadn’t given you the chance to put on sweatpants and a hoodie. Or maybe you hadn’t wanted to stay long enough.
Lando shifts in his sleep, pressing closer to you. It’s only now that Oscar notices Lando’s hand linked with yours, fingers knitted together on your stomach. A pang of something flares up in him at the sight, at how right it feels to have you both right here like this. He does his best to tamp it down. He brushes his fingers against your cheek tentatively, relaxing just a bit at the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips.
You nudge into the touch, eyelids just barely fluttering. Oscar wonders to himself how anyone could ever let you go. The sight of you in the backseat, teary eyed in his hoodie, is burned into the back of his brain. He’d do anything to keep you from ever crying again.
When he wakes up again, it’s much later in the morning. You and Lando are both gone, and something about that makes his heart clench. But he hears noise in the kitchen- Lando, talking to someone, the sound of food sizzling on the stove. He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes before trudging his way over there.
Lando’s at the stove, cooking something that smells awfully delicious and makes Oscar’s stomach growl. You’re sitting on the counter nearby the way you always do, still in Oscar’s hoodie, hands folded in your lap. You’re the first one to spot him- you smile, but it’s subdued. There’s a tinge of sadness to it. Something aching behind your eyes.
“Morning,” he finally says.
Lando turns over his shoulder with a smile. “I was just about to send her to wake you,” he says. “I made breakfast.”
Oscar nods. “Thanks. Smells really good.”
He takes his normal spot on a stool at the kitchen island. He passes by both of you on the way there, and you reach out to squeeze his upper arm. He brushes a hand over your knee and smiles at you.
You’re quiet. Usually, you’d be chatting their ears off. But Lando plates up the food and distributes it without a word from you, and it has Oscar feeling sick to his stomach. You stay sitting on the counter, and you push the food around on your plate with one hand. Lando sits next to Oscar and exchanges a look with him.
Both boys clear their plates without a word from you. You’ve only taken a few bites. Oscar clears his throat as he clears his and Lando’s plates. Your eyes flicker up to meet his.
“I stand by what I said last night. We don’t have to talk,” he says. “But if you want to talk, we’re here.”
You shift and smile just a little. “Not much to talk about, really. The breakup has been coming for a long time, I think. So. It’s fine, really. Just weird, you know? We’d been dating for a year- that’s a year of my life… not wasted, but. Weird to lose someone like that so quickly.”
Both Oscar and Lando nod in understanding. You nod back. That’s that. If you don’t want to talk about it more, they won’t force you. It’s enough to know you’re safe at home, really.
…..
When Lando has his first DJ set after your break up, he begs you to come and watch. Much to his and Oscar’s surprise, you agree eagerly. They’d both thought it would be a harder fight. Lando’s been getting bigger and bigger DJ gigs- not enough to quit his day job yet, but enough to get excited about. You haven’t been to them recently, which had been a bit of a sore spot for Lando, though he’d tried not to let it on to you. So. If you want to go, he’s not going to question you on it.
On the way there, you size him up in the back of the Uber. You tug at the collar of his shirt.
“You’re too buttoned up,” you say, nose wrinkled.
Oscar laughs and nods. “Yeah, lose a button,” he adds.
He reaches over and undoes the top button of Lando’s shirt with nimble fingers, and great, now Lando’s sweating.
“Or two,” you chime in.
When you reach up and undo another button, Lando thinks the blush must be obvious on his cheeks now. It’s probably running down his neck, washing over his chest, just like the soft touch of your fingers against his skin.
“Why not three?” Oscar says, smirking.
Before he can undo the third one, Lando bats Oscar’s hand away and glares at him. Oscar’s had a shot before they left the apartment, pregaming because he hates crowds and loud places and social environments. He’s definitely a little tipsy, and because of that, he’s a bit more daring. It’s going to be the death of Lando.
By the time he’s halfway through the set, Lando’s gone and lost both of you in the crowd. He won’t lie, it makes him a bit nervous. He knows you were there one second, and then the next time he looked, you were both gone. He knows in his head Oscar won’t have let you out of his sight, but it doesn’t stop his heart from clenching. He thinks of his phone, down under the stage, itches to have it in his hand so he can text or call or find you, somehow.
When he finally climbs down and grabs his phone, it’s lit up with a bunch of notifications. He swipes past the ones from Max asking how late his set goes, past the ones from friends who stopped by, telling him how good he did. In the middle, there’s a text from Oscar.
Call when you’re done.
He calls. When Oscar answers, he gives him directions to meet the two of you in a bathroom and then promptly hangs up. Lando would be more concerned with the two of you apparently hiding out together in a bathroom if Oscar hadn’t told him about it. He doesn’t have the energy to let himself get jealous. He just heads towards the two of you. He knocks on the single bathroom door, calls out to Oscar, and it swings open.
“She had a little too much,” Oscar says.
Behind him, you’re kneeling next to the toilet, Oscar’s jacket underneath your knees. It’s such a sweet touch that it makes Lando’s heart ache- there’s just something about seeing Oscar taking care of you. But he does his best to focus and steps into the bathroom. Your hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. Your skin is pale, and when you turn to look at Lando, your eyes are bloodshot. He hisses and turns to Oscar.
“I know, I know, I said I’d watch her-“ Oscar says, raising his hands defensively. “She’s good at pretending to be sober. Until she’s way too far gone, and then…”
“Lan!” you call out, high pitched and wobbly. “I love you.”
Lando widens his eyes at Oscar, who nods.
“There’s been a lot of that. About both of us. She was not happy when I pulled her out of sight of you.” Oscar sighs. “I can’t figure out if it’s just- you know, she loves her friends, or-“
Oscar trails off. Lando furrows his brows.
“Lan,” you repeat again, and he turns over his shoulder to look at you, then tries not to visibly wince. “Can we go home now?”
“Yeah, love,” he says, softly. “You done throwing up, you okay to move?”
You shrug, then nod. Great. Not super convincing. When he turns to Oscar, he winces. Lando drags a hand down his own face. Interrogating Oscar will have to wait- the first priority is to get the three of you out of there, hopefully without you throwing up on them. He sighs heavily and makes a plan in his head.
Lando’s not sure what god he pleased, what good karma he’s earned, but the three of you make it outside without you throwing up again. He breathes a sigh of relief. Then he and Oscar spend 5 minutes debating on whether walking or getting a ride would be better- you’re drunk and wobbly, but at least if you threw up, it’d be on the sidewalk. Oscar hates that idea, is worried about you tripping and falling on the way, about how they’ll manage to get you all the way back. You stand there and watch them argue, Oscar’s hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over.
“Boys, stop fighting,” you say hazily. “You’re both so pretty.”
Lando’s eyes go wide at that. He stares at Oscar, who seems to make a face that says I know. Lando turns to you. You’re smiling widely up at him, blinking glassy eyes and tilting your head. You reach out and tap your fingertip against his nose, then laugh. Lando swallows tightly.
Oscar uses his distraction to flag down a cab. Lando can’t find the energy to argue anymore. They’d normally put you in the middle, but this time they sit you next to the door, just in case you do need to throw up. You spend the entire ride with your head on Lando’s shoulder, and he can tell you’re starting to get drowsy just from the way you sag against him. When they climb out of the car, Oscar puts one of your arms over his shoulder, and Lando does the same on the other side.
By the time they get you up to the apartment and into the bathroom, you’re half asleep, leaning heavily on both of them. When your hand slips against the bare skin of his chest, he swallows tightly. Oscar puts toothpaste on the toothbrush for you, and Lando helps you brush your teeth, his hand wrapped around yours gently.
Then they head for your bedroom. Lando grabs you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from your dresser. He sets them on the bed and gets ready to leave the room so you can change, and then slaps his hand over his eyes when you start to take off your dress before he even gets the chance. He hears Oscar’s hand hit his own face, too.
“We live together,” you say, and Lando can practically hear your eye roll. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Lando sighs. “It is, and you’re drunk, so.”
You laugh. “I guess. I’m dressed now.”
Lando groans when he uncovers his eyes and spots the pair of shorts still on the bed. He puts one hand over Oscar’s eyes, one back over his own, and says, “Shorts. Now.”
You grumble something about taking them off later anyways, which has Lando melting into a puddle over the thought. He hears you shuffling around, and then you grab both of his wrists and tug them away from his and Oscar’s faces. You’re fully dressed this time, and you collapse backwards onto the bed.
“Will you guys stay till I fall asleep?” you ask, softly.
Both of them nod and sit down on the edge of the bed. You curl up in the middle, each of them on either side. Oscar lays a tentative hand on your shoulder, while Lando brushes hair from your face. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, melting into the bed.
When you do, Lando nods silently towards the door. Oscar nods in agreement, and they both slip out of the bedroom. Lando looks back to check on you as he shuts the door. You look peaceful, finally.
Oscar heads for the kitchen, and Lando follows. He reaches into the fridge and comes back with two cans of sparkling water, which Lando accepts eagerly. He’d been unaware of just how thirsty he was until that moment. He drinks half the can in one go and then looks at Oscar expectantly.
“I don’t know,” Oscar prefaces. “I’m not sure about anything. But. She couldn’t stop staring at you up on the stage, and she told me about ten times how pretty you were. And then she said it about me, too. To my face. And like, right after that she threw up, but.”
“But,” Lando repeats. “You saw something. Different than her just being a drunk mess.”
“It felt different,” Oscar says, softly. “Just. I can’t explain it.”
Lando nods. He presses his lips into a thin line. Oscar follows suit, rubbing his hand against the smooth surface of the countertop.
“What do we do?” Lando asks quietly. He feels wildly out of his depth here. “I mean. D’you think she has feelings for…”
Me? You? Lando’s not sure what to say. He’s not sure what he wants the answer to be either. Suddenly, he feels sick to his stomach. In an ideal world, he knows what he’d like to happen here, but that’s a pipe dream. Unrealistic.
“She’s really vulnerable,” he says, before Oscar can even answer. “And like. That would really make a good roommate situation weird, right?”
Oscar laughs, but it sounds forced. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Lando says. “Okay. So. We just let it go.”
Oscar nods. There’s something in the look on his face that makes Lando think maybe there’s more to this. That they shouldn’t brush it off so easily. But it’s late, and he’s exhausted, and this topic feels so, so difficult to broach right now. So he claps Oscar on the shoulder with an open palm, and then disappears into his bedroom.
Lando’s avoidance of the subject doesn’t last long, because the next morning, before you wake up, Oscar corners him in the kitchen.
“We need to talk,” Oscar says, which is never a good sentence to hear at any hour, let alone before the sun has even risen.
Realistically, he should’ve known this was coming, because Oscar never willingly wakes up this early on a weekend. It’s still dark outside. Lando can barely make out Oscar’s facial expressions in the dim light. He flicks a light switch and watches the other man wince.
“Rude,” Oscar grumbles.
“Yeah, that’s what you get for starting off my morning with that sentence,” Lando defends. When Oscar frowns, he softens. “What’s up?”
As if he hadn’t expected to actually get to this point, Oscar shrinks in on himself. Lando leans against the counter and tilts his head. Oscar’s younger, but he’s usually the more mature one. It’s odd to see him so lost for what to say.
“Last night,” Oscar starts, chewing on his lip when he pauses. “She- I- I can’t stop thinking about…”
Lando’s gut wobbles. “About her. You like her. And you think she feels the same.”
There’s this weird jealousy in his chest. He’s jealous of both of you, he realizes, and he grips the counter behind him with his hand. He wants to be the one you like, and he wants to be the one Oscar’s into, too. He’s known it for a while, really, but this is the first time he’s had to confront it head on. And it’s - it’s a problem, probably. His best friends and his roommates. He can’t have both. Can’t have it all.
Oscar frowns and shakes his head. “No. Well. Yeah, but- it’s more than that. It’s.”
Lando tamps down the ache in his chest, plasters on a smile. “Oscar. It’s okay.”
“No,” Oscar says, dragging out the sound. “You don’t- you don’t get it.”
“You guys would make a cute couple,” Lando says quietly. “Like. Really, Osc, you’d be good together-“
“I don’t just want her,” Oscar interrupts, and Lando's heart skips a beat. “I don’t- fuck, it sounds crazy, but. I woke up that morning, after we picked her up, and you were both on the couch with me, and I just thought, yeah, this is how I want to wake up every day. And if that’s crazy then- forget I said anything, but-“
Lando clears his throat. “It’s not crazy.”
Oscar freezes, one hand halfway through his hair. “It’s not?”
Lando shakes his head and bites his lip. “No. I think I’ve been feeling the same. Just… I felt crazy, you know?”
Oscar nods. Lando can’t stop staring at him, at the red flush on his cheeks, the wide eyes. He reaches his foot out and nudges it against Oscar’s shin.
“I meant what I said last night, about her being vulnerable,” he says, and Oscar sighs heavily. “She needs friends right now. And she doesn’t need friends who are caught up in figuring out their feelings for each other and maybe her, too.”
Oscar huffs. “So we just…”
“Wait and see?” Lando asks sheepishly. “Feels shitty, I know, but our first priority is making sure she’s okay.”
Oscar nods. Lando nods back. And that’s that, for a while. And maybe for a while, it’s enough to know that Oscar feels it, too. To know he’s not alone.
…..
You know Lando well enough to know he’s not one to admit when he’s sick. You’d think he’d be the exact opposite, but he tends to try and tough it out until the very last minute. He hides it well, except when it comes to you and Oscar.
He’s getting ready for a DJ set nearly a month after the one where you’d gotten far too drunk. There’s loud music playing through the apartment as he eats dinner, dancing along to the beat. You sit on the kitchen counter in your usual spot, and Oscar stands next to you. You’re both watching Lando bounce around the room. He’s trying to convince you he’s fine without actually saying it. It’s not working.
He leaves the room for a moment, looking for his phone. Oscar looks up at you.
“He’s sick, isn’t he?” He asks.
You nod and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “Definitely.”
But Lando says nothing about not feeling well, so you do your hair and makeup and get into an Uber with him and Oscar to head for a club. You and Oscar exchange a glance when Lando presses his forehead to the window of the car. He’s mumbling along to the song that’s playing over the speakers. There’s sweat on his temple. You’re starting to worry.
He tumbles out of the car and into the club with you and Oscar in tow. Once the bright lights and loud music hit him, he perks up a bit. If you know him, you know it won’t last. He’s going to wear himself out during his set and then fall apart right after. He sends the two of you to the bar, tells you to put it on his tab. Oscar loops his hand in your arm to keep you close- you’re not complaining. Without saying anything to each other, you each order plain Cokes. Lando won’t question if there’s alcohol in it. You order him his go to drink- a gin & tonic, but ask the bartender to go light on the gin. You hand it off to him before he heads up for his set, and when he hesitates to kiss your cheek like he normally would, you eye him carefully.
“I’m fine,” he says, which tells you more than anything that he’s definitely not fine.
Next to you, Oscar scoffs. You press the back of your hand to Lando’s forehead and sigh. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. He’s burning up.
“It’s a short set,” he says, slurred but loud enough to be heard over the thud of the bass. “I’ll be fine.”
You watch as he walks away. Oscar takes your arm in his hand again, pulls you away to a nearby booth. Normally, you love watching Lando’s sets, love listening to the music he’s chosen, and watching his face light up at the crowd’s reaction. But now, as he takes his place, you just feel worried. You can tell Oscar’s worried too, just from the way he drums his fingers against the table in an unsteady pattern. Normally the two of you would find yourselves out on the dance floor, especially when Lando plays the songs he knows you both love, but you can’t find it in you tonight.
When he stumbles off stage from his set, he’s grinning ear to ear, but his eyes are half closed and there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his skin that you know isn’t from the dj-ing. You and Oscar stand to meet him, and you brush damp curls from his forehead to check his temperature again. He feels even worse. Oscar winces as Lando sways in front of the two of you.
“Let's get you home,” you suggest, and he just nods.
When you get back to the apartment, you deposit Lando on the couch. Oscar stays with him, pulling a blanket over Lando and propping him up with pillows. You head for the bathroom first and open the medicine cabinet.
“Lan, what’s wrong?” You call out.
You hear his disoriented grumbling. Oscar translates. “He says he’s fine.”
You lean out into the living room and fix Lando with a glare. “Shut up. You need medicine. What’s wrong?”
He sighs and sinks into the couch. “Sore throat. Headache. Little bit of a cough.”
You nod and return to the surprisingly well stocked medicine cabinet. You grab the cold medicine that describes his symptoms the best and head back to the living room. Lando has the blanket wrapped tightly around him like a cocoon, and he has his head resting on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s running his hand up and down Lando’s upper arm, a look of concern on his face.
You hand Oscar the medicine. “Here. Give him a dose, will you? I’m gonna heat up some soup or something.”
“M’not a baby,” Lando mutters.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Oscar teases gently.
Though the medicine cabinet was well stocked, the kitchen is less so. None of you like grocery shopping. You manage to find a can of chicken soup in the back of a cupboard, and it’s not expired, so you heat it up quickly. You return to the living room with the soup and a large glass of water.
Lando is fully tucked into Oscar’s side now, draped messily across the other boy. You sigh at the sight, at the way Oscar runs his hand through Lando’s hair, at the content little smile on Lando’s lips. Even when he’s sick, this is enough to bring him comfort. You wonder, then, if you could be enough, too. The memories pass through your brain- the way they’ve both taken care of you after your break up. Now it’s your chance to return the favor.
You sit down on the couch on Lando’s other side. Oscar takes the bowl of soup from you carefully, and then you hold the glass of water up to Lando’s lips. He sips carefully, then pulls away with a soft sigh. His cheeks are rosy red, and he shivers. You and Oscar both wince in sympathy.
“You should’ve told us,” Oscar says, quietly. “Should’ve canceled the set.”
Lando shrugs and elbows him lightly. “Got through it, didn’t I? Can’t go around canceling sets if I’m gonna make it big, can I?”
You roll your eyes and nudge the Brit slightly. “Your health is more important than you making it big,” you chide.
He turns to look at you, gaze hazy but still amused. “Mm. You won’t be saying that when I’ve got enough money to take care of the two of you for the rest of your lives.”
“Is that your plan?” Oscar asks, a teasing tone in his voice.
Lando closes his eyes and nods. “You two can be my sugar babies,” he asserts. “Never work another day in your life.”
“Okay, Norris,” you say, biting back a laugh. “Eat your soup.”
He does as he’s told, melting back into the couch as he holds the bowl and spoon in shaky hands. Oscar keeps his hands on the bowl, too, just to be safe. To show your support, you lean against Lando’s shoulder to help prop him up. As much as you hate to see him not feeling well, you think that maybe you could get used to this.
You tuck him into his bed later that night. Oscar’s next to you, having carried him into the bedroom from the living room. Lando was pretty much dead weight, high on cold medicine and his fever and so, so out of it. You pull the covers up to his chin and smooth sweaty hair from his forehead. You cringe at the clammy feeling, and Oscar laughs.
Lando blinks up at both of you with heavy eyes. “Meant it, you know.”
“Meant what?” You ask.
He lets his eyelids fall closed. “Gonna take care of you two. The same way you take care of me. I think abou’ it all the time.”
He yawns, turns his head, and falls asleep nearly immediately after that, lips barely parted, chest rising and falling smoothly. You feel frozen for a moment. He looks so peaceful. He wants to take care of you. Your heart is pounding.
Oscar wraps his hand around your elbow and squeezes softly. “He’ll be okay.”
He thinks you’re worried. You don’t know how to tell him that Lando being sick isn’t the problem. The what’s got you all mixed up inside is the way Lando says it so easily. Never work another day in your life. I think about it all the time.
You swallow and back away from the bed, because you have the strongest urge to crawl right in next to him and drag Oscar right with you, until you’re all curled up in a pile together. You can’t do that. Oscar leads you out to the living room. You think he knows something’s up, because he doesn’t let go of you the whole time, but he doesn’t say anything either. You need to shake this feeling. You can’t think about them like this. It won’t end well.
“I’ll make us some popcorn, yeah?” Oscar suggests. “We can watch Bake Off.”
You nod as you make your way over to the couch. You try to tell yourself you should keep your distance, should sit far away from him. But when he sits down and pulls you into his chest, you can’t help but sigh happily.
“When we inevitably catch whatever he has,” you say, “we’re gonna need more chicken noodle soup.”
…..
Oscar comes home from work one day a few weeks later, and finds the two of you in the living room- a pretty normal occurrence lately. You’re laid out on the couch, your ankles in Lando’s lap. You smile up at him happily, and he laughs. He’s glad to see you, honestly, both of you. He’s had a rough day. This is exactly what he needed to come home to.
“Comfy?” He asks.
You nod eagerly. “We saved some pizza for you. It’s in the kitchen.”
He snorts. “Gee. Thanks. Couldn’t wait till I got home?”
You pout up at him. “I was hungry.”
Lando nods in agreement. “She was being whiny, Osc, had to feed her.”
“I’m gonna shower,” he says, leaning over to ruffle your hair. You press into the touch, like a cat. “And then I’ll have dinner.”
“Ooh, take a shower beer,” you suggest.
Lando laughs. “I was gonna say the exact same thing.”
Without even thinking, Oscar leans over the couch and kisses both of your foreheads. “Geniuses, the both of you.”
Neither you or Lando seem to question it, or the blush on his cheeks, so he doesn’t even try to explain.
By the time he finishes showering, and finishes his shower beer, a bit of the stress has melted away. He sighs heavily when he steps out, towel dries his hair, and pulls on a pair of shorts and a hoodie. He eats a slice of pizza, cold, in the kitchen.
When he makes it back to the living room, you’re curled up in Lando’s arms, halfway in his lap. He grumbles, not even realizing he’s making the noise until you look up at him. You throw one arm out wide, beckoning him close. Lando looks up with a happy, soft smile and pats the open space on his chest. And really, Oscar’s had a shit day, and the spot between Lando’s jaw and chest looks quite cozy, and if he’s being invited, then-
He collapses into the two of you, slips his arm around you and presses the side of his face to Lando’s chest. Oscar takes a deep breath, smells Lando’s cologne and your perfume, the intoxicating mix of both of you, and closes his eyes. He feels someone’s finger drag down the slope of his nose, and another hand brushes his hair from his forehead.
“Bad day?” You ask.
He’s exhausted, and everything is a bit hazy feeling. Syrupy and slow. He could fall asleep like this, probably. You sound a million miles away, and also like you’re tucked away in his chest, like he’d like for you to always be. Close and protected.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Really bad day.”
A thumb brushes over his cheek. There’s a hand in his damp hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He lets out a fluttering sigh.
“Poor baby,” you say. He thinks the hand on his face is yours, the hand in his hair, Lando’s. “We just gotta wait for Lan to make it big, yeah? ‘nd then me and you can be his sugar babies, let him pay for everything. Just like he promised.”
Oscar laughs and rubs his cheek against Lando’s chest in some sort of nod. He can feel Lando laughing, too, high pitched and breathless. His hand squeezes at your hip, where it landed when he sat down.
“I’d take such good care of the two of you,” Lando says, quietly.
Oscar knows how much truth the words hold, and suddenly his stomach aches with want. Because Lando already takes care of both of you and him any way he can, and Oscar does it for you and Lando, too, and they both wish they could do it even more so. Could kiss away your tears, could hold your hand when you cross the street. He wants it. So does Lando.
“You already do,” you say, even quieter.
Oscar feels Lando’s breath hitch in his chest. He opens one eye and finds your eyes closed, your hand pressed to his cheek. Lando’s hand, banded around Oscar’s back, squeezes softly. Oscar holds his breath.
You shrug, like you know they’re watching without even opening your eyes.
“You both do,” you add. “Picked me up when I called, checked on me ever since…” you sigh and bury your face deeper into Lando’s chest. Oscar reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand tentatively. “Couldn’t ask for more.”
Even on the worst of days, Oscar thinks that maybe you’re right. He couldn’t ask for more. He’s got everything right here.
…..
A few nights later, Lando wakes up to the creak of the door, and his eyes fly open. He turns to look and finds you standing in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
“Love?” Lando asks, quietly. It’s the dead of night. “You alright?”
You shrug and sigh. “Can we cuddle?”
He blinks and nods, wonder fleetingly if he should go and get Oscar, because this feels unfair, but- then you step backwards, walking away. You must want to go to your bed, must feel more comfortable there. Lando slips out of his bed, takes his phone with him, and follows after you. His confusion grows when you don’t stop at the door to your bedroom. You walk right past and head for Oscar’s room. You open the door, and Lando looks past you to the warm glow of the lamp Oscar always forgets to turn off, to his sleeping form.
“You’re easier to wake up,” you say, softly.
Lando blinks wildly as you trudge your way over to the bed. “Love?”
“Want cuddles,” you state as you climb into the bed next to Oscar, who’s snoring softly. “From both of you. Come on.”
And, well. You should probably all talk about this, really. But you’re already tucking yourself under the blankets, and Oscar looks cute, and Lando’s so, so tired, and he wants cuddles, too, so. He sighs and makes his way over to the bed. You grin and roll towards Oscar, who finally shifts awake at the motion.
“Hi?” He says, confused, sleep coating his voice.
You don’t bother to explain, just slip an arm around him and curl close. Lando sits down on the edge of the bed and makes eye contact with Oscar, who seems frozen between confusion and happiness.
“She wanted cuddles,” Lando explains. “From both of us. I’m easier to wake up, apparently.”
Oscar shrugs and nods. He rolls towards you and throws his arm over your middle. His fingers motion towards Lando, who breathes a sigh of relief. Sure, they’ve talked, but there was always a chance Oscar changed his mind, or that this would be weird. But, if he’s offering…
Lando crawls into bed next to you. You let out a soft sigh when he lays down next to you, and he can’t fight the smile that crosses his lips. He slips his arm around you, his skin brushing against Oscar’s, too. Oscar presses a kiss to your forehead. Lando bites back a flare of jealousy, and he’s not even sure which one of you he’s jealous of. Then Oscar brushes his fingertips against his bicep, a soft, gentle touch that reminds him he’s part of this, too. Lando kisses the back of your neck and closes his eyes, already sleepy again.
…..
When Oscar wakes up the next morning, you and Lando are still in his bed. He breathes a sigh of relief at that, having been worried one of you would wake up and panic and leave. He watches the two of you for a few moments before he lets his eyes slip closed again. The weight of your head on his chest is comforting, and the soft rise and fall of Lando’s ribs under his hand is even more so. It’s rare that he’s awake before either of you unless he has to be up early.
He opens one eye again, just to look, just to take it in. Lando’s head is pressed against your shoulder, the top of his forehead and his mass of curly hair just visible to Oscar. He could get used to this. He’d like to wake up like this all the time, the three of you all wrapped up together. And maybe that’s wishful thinking, but for at least one morning, he gets to have it.
If he wasn’t so worried he’d wake you up and spoil the moment, he’d trace the lines of your face with his fingertips and draw patterns on your shoulders. He’d do it to Lando, too- shove his tank top up until he could touch the bare skin of his ribs, run his fingers over the bumps. But he wants this to last as long as possible, so he just lays there and stares.
Eventually, you start to stir, and with you, so does Lando. It’s strange, the way it makes Oscar’s heart clench in his chest. He wants so badly for both of you to just stay right here, with him. If he could hold you both in his arms like this forever he would.
When you open your eyes, you smile softly at him. Lando shifts behind you and opens one eye, and the same soft smile slips across his lips. You press yourself farther into Oscar, and reach a hand behind you to pull Lando close.
“My boys,” you say, quietly. “My favorite boys.”
And. That’s when it hits Oscar, like a punch to the chest. There’s something in the way you say it, something about the look on your face. He just knows. He knows because he sees it in himself, in Lando. He doesn’t need to talk about it right this second, doesn’t need to ask. He just knows you feel it too. So he leans up and over, hears the way Lando’s holding his breath. He moves his hand and presses his lips to your cheek, to your warm, soft skin. Then he does the same to Lando. You smile even wider. Lando, not one to be left out, does the same to you, then Oscar, leaving his skin burning. You follow suit, and your lips are warm against Oscar’s jaw. He thinks maybe he’s in heaven.
The three of you fall back asleep in a tighter pile, wrapped up in each other’s limbs. There’ll be time to talk later. For now, it’s enough to just know.
…..
A month later, you’re in the front of the crowd at Lando’s DJ set, watching with wide, bright eyes. He has three buttons undone, the work of you and Oscar during the car ride over to the club. He’s grinning down at you as someone hands him a shot, and then he tosses it back with a grimace. You wonder if he sees the stars in your eyes as you look up at him.
Oscar’s behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist. He has a drink in his other hand- your drink, taken from your own grip when you started moving your hands to the music. His nose is pressed behind your ear, and when he speaks, his breath tickles against your skin and makes you shiver.
“Y’know, he said he’d take care of us,” Oscar says, loud enough to be heard over the music, but just barely. “But all I can think of right now are all the ways I wanna take care of him.”
You laugh, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “It’s the unbuttoned shirt,” you tell him, gesturing at your other boyfriend. “S’like kryptonite.”
Never mind the fact that the shirt’s only unbuttoned because of the two of you. Oscar laughs and squeezes his arm around your middle. Lando tilts his head at the two of you, like he knows exactly what you’re up to.
“Yeah,” Oscar agrees. “But that’s less buttons for us to deal with later.”
You nod in agreement. “Good point.”
When Lando’s shirt is laying on the floor later, next to Oscar’s shirt and your dress, and you’re all slumped together on the bed in a pile, you remember what Oscar said earlier and laugh. Neither of them bother to ask what you’re laughing about. They just kiss your cheeks and join in with laughter of their own.
taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1 (if your blog is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!)
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#Oscar Piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#Lando Norris x oscar Piastri x reader#Oscar Piastri x Lando Norris x reader#Lando Norris fluff#Oscar Piastri fluff#Lando Norris fuc#Oscar Piastri fic#Lando Norris oneshot#Oscar Piastri oneshot#landoscar x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 oneshot#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 oneshot#f1 x reader#formula one fanfic#formula one fluff#formula one x reader#formula one oneshot#poly!landoscar x reader#honeywrites#ln4#op81#x reader
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The men of jjk want to know why Gojo is so annoying when it comes to his little fling…
· · "How Bout' I Cum All On Your D1ck and Then I Lick It Off" · ·
･˳ . ⋆ Featuring Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Fushiguro Toji, Higuruma Hiromi, Nanami Kento, Shiu Kong, Choso Kamo, Sukuna x Bimbo!Fem reader ･˳ . ⋆
୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Warnings: smut, anal, Cum swallowing, body fluid( squirting, spitting), spit roasting, hint at poly at the end, double penetration( two dicks), cervix kissing, dacryphillia, rough sex, degradation, everyone taking turns fucking you, fucked dumb, chubby reader hints, doggystyle, standing fucking, full nelson, standing doggystyle, fucking in vehicles and other places, big exhibition, Voyuerism, mating press, cheating reader( kinda), bukkake at the end, black coded reader, oral, pet names( doll, sweet doll, Angel, etc.), fucking in a mirror, double penetration again, group sex, Shiu Kong is the man who paid Toji for a** assination , jjk au/ not canon, heavy degradation, praise ofc, minor foot job at the end, overall nasty shit, tell me if I’m missing something please
୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Word count: 7.1k
18+, Minors do not interact
Tokyo Revengers Version Aot Version
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Gojo Satoru: in the car + riding
You missed Gojo so much. His job has been keeping you away from him so when you get the opportunity to see him, it’s unfortunate and fortunate that you have to see him only in his car outside of the building he owns since it’s his lunch break. He was supposed to be eating lunch with you but instead he’s digging inside of your pussy like a man who’s getting his first lick of pussy and what it feels like inside and out. “ Mmgh fuck, please slo-slow down sato’!” Your voice was going horse from the screaming he was causing from the rapid motion of his hips snapping into yours.
Gojo balls were hitting your ass as he moved inside of you and he relished in the feeling of his heavy dick inside of you, “ nuh- uh, baby I can’t, been missing this pussy this entire week. I haven’t been able to talk to you as much as I want to, kiss you, touch you, and fuck you like I want— lemme , fuck! You’re squeezing me so tightly just like when you were a fucking virgin.” His mouth opened in a silent moan as your ass slapped down on his thighs whilst your pussy gripped his cock like you've wanted to plant him there forever in your little garden of a pussy.
You would think that because he’s a CEO that he would be able to take breaks whenever he wanted but he’s got too much shit to deal with in his company. He needed this. He needed to be inside of you. He needed you. He’s displaying his feelings as he fucks into your soaking, wet pussy. Each time he digs in the curve of his dick massages your silky but bumpy walls making you throw your head back in ecstasy. The windows were tinted but on the outside of the car, anyone who walks by could hear Gojo and your moans with the car bouncing up and down based on the movement of your hips slamming into his. Both of your moans were engulfed in the kiss you two shared as you hungrily lapped eachother tongues in each of your mouths.
Gojo's face got even redder as he was at the brink of the edge— little whimpers and pants escaped his mouth as his lips were opened with gloss of spit and sweat lathering them. He was about to cum and you knew that so you moved back and forth to chase your own orgasm telling him to hold it for you, “ sato’ hold it f’ me, please, I wanna- shit!- try something~.” As soon as you said the word new you came on his dick squeezing him even more so it was even harder for him to not cum inside of you. This was beginning to fill like torture. You stayed on him to stop shaking like a mad men whispering to him to hold it, repeating it multiple times.
Gojo moved around like a man on fire while knocking his knees together in fear of cumming inside of you. He knows you hate when he doesn't listen to you but he didn’t know if he was going to last until you slowly slid off his heavy, long cock. He groaned when you placed a finger on his opening slit of the tip of his dick— moving to the passenger seat. He was confused until you removed your finger from his slit, replacing your finger with your warm mouth. A spew of curse words and “ holy shit” released from Gojo’s mouth as you took in a shot of his cum. Afterwards, you took his dick out your mouth to paint your face with the rest of his cum. His body couldn’t do anything but shake at this display because you never did this before and always hated cum on your face so what changed. You were officially his girl now, there’s no snaking around now.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Nanami Kento: on his desk in his office + doggystyle
Nanami has heard about you being Gojo’s little fling for the past few months. Gojo never stopped talking about you and he wanted to see who’s the first person to make him shut up whenever he takes a call on his cellphone, opening with a “ hi princess”— occasionally smiling wide with red blush dancing across his cheeks as he walks out his office door. Nanami at first thought it was a ploy to get out of talking about the plans for their company to merge with Toji’s company in hopes of an even greater deal coming out of this group project. As time walked on and on, he started to hear moans every time he walked past Gojo’s office or car that one time he came back from his lunch break.
He just had to put a face to the splendid moans he hears every now and then. And he did, essentially when you knocked on his door holding a box of pizza you brought for the office mates of the 15th floor. You only decided to do this to get to Nanami and it worked so as he opened the door, his eyes were so wide and he was stuck there just like you wanted him to be. You bat your eyelashes and smile at him, “ Hi, you must be Nanami, Gojo told me to give this to you, do you mind if I come in and set this down.” Nanami gulped because he was still puzzled by the door revealing such a beautiful smile and face. It didn’t matter about anything even if you have braces, a gap, crooked teeth, or a missing tooth. You were still beautiful to him, right now.
So that may be the reason you are bent over his desk with your clothes dropped to your ankle by your pretty ankle they will acknowledge later. The papers on his desk were flying off it as your body practically danced on his desk at the speed he was going. Nanami never expected this to turn out this way but he couldn’t resist your body or face for that matter. The feeling of your ass slapping against his pelvis as he moved back and forth in a rhythmic movement in the act of holding your tummy, mounding his fingers against your tummy and thick thighs— squeezing them as he fucked into you with whispers of how tight and great you felt.
You tried to subdue your moans but Nanami’s tip was breaching into your cervix causing an immense amount of pleasure and a little pain, just as you liked it. Nanami’s hair was out of place and sweat was glistening over his entire body which means that his buttoned down shirt was now completely opened. “ You are so heavenly to be inside of, my doll. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to leave this hot, wet pussy. Hell, I never want to leave, especially when you fuck me back like you’re doing right -Uumph fuck~- now, shit!” You can feel your orgasm approaching and you couldn’t even talk because it’s like your brain couldn’t function properly from the way he was drilling inside of your pussy. You didn’t even care about the front of your thighs burning and hurting at how hard he was fucking you against the desk. The pizza was long forgotten once you two started. The pizza was a great contrast from how your body felt right now. Pizza was cold right now while your body was hot and was about to cum on this man dick. Once he angled his hips into circles you were gone. “ Fuck~ m’gonna, mmph, m’ cummin.” You kept repeating the saying like you were stuck in a mantra and he wasn’t stopping even if you came on his cock just now. White juices lather his cock and he felt in heaven.
You could tell he was about to cum because he was now leaned over you with one arm across your chest and another one still playing with your tummy, “ where do you want me to cum, sweetheart. Hmm? Want me to cum on that pretty face or in your mouth so I could send you back to that fucker who just can’t shut up about you. It’s annoying but now I - Fuck~- see why he’s that way, choose now, doll.” Your legs were shaking and your limbs gave up so now he was grinding on top of you while holding your head down after whispering in your ear. You mumbled your answer but he couldn’t hear it so he grabbed the coils in your hair making your back hit his chest as his right hand was still holding your hair. You looked up into his eyes as he still moved inside of you trying so hard not to cum inside of your warm pussy, “ couldn’t hear you, sweetheart. Use your words correctly.” You whimper and close your eyes, “ I want it in my mouth and on my face, please, pretty please Nami’.” He let go of your hair but not before fixing it back the way it was while pulling out of you. He tightly grabbed his tip to stop his dick from cumming right there and now. You, on the other hand, was getting down on your knees— looking up at him through your teary gaze and pretty lashes. Meanwhile, he stared down at you with a hard stoic face but his eyes told another story as he looked at you.
“ Fuck, you look so pretty on your knees for me like the good doll you are. Shit! It's coming. Open your mouth.”, Nanami moaned and you obliged— opening your mouth in time to catch some of his hot, white cum into your mouth while the rest painted your face so well, landing on your cheek, nose, and forehead. You thought that he was a great shooter as you smiled with the white substance on your face. Nanami wished he could take a picture, print it, and keep it in his wallet. His breaths were shallow and slow, some of his limbs were still shaking a little bit. He’ll have to ask you if he could take the picture next time, he thought as he took your face in his hands— bending down to give you a kiss on the mouth in proudness.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Geto suguru: bedroom + standing fuck
You and Geto hit it off when Gojo wanted to invite you over for a game night they were having. So far you were having a great time but you kept feeling eyes on you from across the table you all sat at. It was nothing but Gojo’s friend Geto, Shoko, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Mei, Utahime, Choso, Hiromi, and etc. you know you fucked one of his friends already so that’s probably who was eyeing you this entire night. I mean Nanami was eyeing you but not full long staring at you like Suguru was at the moment. You excused yourself when you got a text from Nanami. After your little exchange you traded numbers and have been talking to each other ever since. You gave yourself away to Geto when you smiled really hard on your way to the bathroom.
You didn’t even go to the bathroom, you went inside of a dark bedroom with only the lamp on, sitting down on the chair in front of the bed, texting Nanami back with a smile on your face. Geto knew you were a player and he was always trying to get Gojo stupid ass to see it, but he couldn’t. Too in love. Geto cleared his throat, placing two cards on the table, making all of them groan behind his back as he walked away from the table to check the bathroom upstairs. As expected you weren’t in there and he noted that he saw Nanami texting under the table. So he made the connection when he walked to his room— the connection that you and Nanami was fucking. Had to be. To his surprise he found you texting on the phone in his room as soon as he opened the door. He closed it— locking it behind him.
“ How long do you think he’s gonna be stupid? Hmm, maybe days, weeks, month-”, Geto says in a low voice while standing beside you, scaring you into putting your phone down with the screen up. “ What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your time was hushed but he could still make out the words. He was about to talk until he heard a ding and looked at your phone notification only to confirm his theory that you and Kento been fucking behind Satoru back. He shook his head when he saw you grab your phone to turn it over prior to looking up at him. Geto uncrossed his arms and sighed, “ What a slut, fucking whore really.” You were about to argue when he suddenly placed a thumb in your mouth. Instantly proving him right by sucking on his thumb even if he just caught you. You were indeed an Slut, his slut for the night.
Which is how we got here. Here as in Suguru fucking you against the wall with his pants down to his ankles and his tattooed arms under your thighs— your panties in your mouth to muffled your screams and moans. He’s gonna use your body until you realize your nothing but a fucking slut for him and his crew. The sounds of you wet pussy grabbing his dick as he moved in and out of you could be straight from porno he watches. You were a fucking pornstar of his dreams right now even if you weren’t a pornstar. So fucking beautiful while taking his cock deep inside of your melting pussy, “ Fuck, baby, your tears are just turning me on even more. Such a slut letting me and Nanami fuck you after Gojo spoke about you in a white light. Shit~ so fucking turned on about me fucking this slutty ass pussy aren’t you?” Your screams were loud but muffled making you cry even more because you can’t really get your moans out due to him silencing you with your own wet panties. The frantic was getting wetter with your saliva and drool.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he mixed your insides like they were cake battering. His dick was fucking you in all of the right places, gliding along your right walls, eventually kissing your cervix. The curve of his cock did him justice more than his girth. Suguru moaned into your ear as he held your body up against the wall slamming inside of you. Nothing but your muffled and his groans along with the slapping of skin was heard around the room. He didn’t even care if Gojo or anyone else could hear. He was enjoying the feeling of your pussy clamping around him like a tight scrunchie around a ponytail. He started to hear your cries get a little louder and your tears came down your face even more. All of this is happening just as your legs were wrapped around his waist— they were shaking like a leaf on a tree on a windy day. He knew you just came, uniquely when you squirted and cream on him at the same time. Fuck that was fucking hot.
Geto snapped his hips into your even faster as more squirt released from your pussy. “ Where do you want me to cum, my pretty little slut, hmm? Want it in your pussy?” You thought about it prior to shaking your head no. Your body felt so full and warm on his as he now grinded against you whilst whispering in your ear, “ Then where? On your tits? On your body? Oh~ I got it in your mouth right? Isn’t that where lots of sluts want cum.” His laugh after that was so mocking and it almost made you cry from how degrading this was, but your pussy just got even wetter from his degradation. Geto pulled out as he heard knocking on the door and Gojo’s voice asking where you were at and did he see you anywhere. Geto smirked before mouthing ‘get on your knees Whore’. You were worried that Gojo would find out but Geto didn’t give a damn. He needed to cum and he was going to do it in your mouth. Warm wet mouth.
You got on your knees as Suguru answered Gojo— stroking himself in front of your face. “ She’s not in here, check in the bathroom or basement. She knows she likes to sneak off and do whatever she wants to do.” You felt like that was a jab at him, so you took his tip into your mouth— sucking harshly on his tip causing him to hiss loudly. He grabbed your head and pushed it onto his dick making you take all of his cock, gagging and coughing with little taps could be heard but luckily Gojo was already gone. Geto snapped his pelvis to your face two times before cumming down your throat making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your pussy dripping on the floor. He yanked you off him with a loud gasp coming out your mouth, white liquid dropped out the sides of your mouth as you showed him you swallowed his cum. Geto leaned down to spit in your mouth, fore kissing you on your lips. He pulled away whispering “good girl”.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Toji Fushiguro and Shiu kong : floor on carpet + mating press + double penetration
Toji knew he had to get you alone once Gojo started bragging about his little fling as well. He didn’t want Satrou to upstage him at any point of life, even in business, so when he got you alone, it was a done deal for both of you. Toji knew you were the one geto was describing who he had sex with the other night. At first he didn’t want to view you as a cheater and just a girl that wants to have fun so he pushed you out as a contender in the Suguru sex adventures. It couldn’t have been a coincidence but then again you are way too innocent. So he invited you over to his house to give you the notes and paperwork he needs to give to Gojo for their collaboration project.
Once you were inside his house, you didn’t leave due to your anklet dangling by your head paralleling the movements of his hips mixing into yours in addition to his legs being placed on each side of your hips. Mating press was his favorite position to put naughty bitches like you in. You couldn’t do anything except bite your lip or scratch his back and he loved that shit but you haven’t scratched his back yet, so he just fucked you even harder. Your cries and moans were music to his ears. Your pussy was being shaped into his thick ass cock and you and him loved it, “ Don’t cum to face, Angel. Wouldn’t want to overstimulate you now, would I?” Toji smirked when you opened your mouth letting out a silent oh. You were brainless right now, “ Brainless slut! Can’t even form a sentence, feel bad for you? Don’t you Shiu? Or would you rather her suffer more?!”
Your ears were going in and out that you couldn’t even hear or even see who he was talking about because your vision was too blurry with pretty crystal teers clouding it. You were on the verge of full on sobbing when Toji reached to choke your neck all the while dragging his cock inside of your pretty pussy, each time he moved in you clamped down on you and when he moved out your pussy was gasping for air and for his cock at the same time. “ Toji, please… I can’t take it.” Toji and the other guy who you now noticed is licking the tears off your cheek. He finally came into full view and you knew him right away because he was the first one in Toji’s company to hit on you as soon as you walked in the door, Shiu Kong. The man people told you to watch out for, but at this moment you wanted him.
Toji’s face was in your neck moaning and groaning your name, “ { reader}! Fuck {reader}, your pussy is so good. You gotta take it for me, Angel? Take it for me and Shiu here. We got you.” Shiu chuckled, “ Fuck that, be the whore Suguru mentioned while walking past my office that day. He described you just like I’m seeing you now, so you can take it. If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna give you something to take your mind off how much you can’t take it.” You were surprised by how deep his voice was, the cigarette mixed with Dior sauvage cologne smell illuminating from his body. His musk was intoxicating and you could only imagine how his cock would taste in your mouth, so you complained again when Toji grinds on you whilst his legs were resting beside you, semi mating press and semi missionary. “ Mmgh! Toji, you feel so good deep inside of me, but don’t go any faster please. I need rest.” You were so lying, you just wanted to see what Shiu would do.
You found out the hard way of what he would do because now he had his dress pants off to the side and his dress shirt unbuttoned— tie and blazer long gone. His dick was done your throat while Toji still had you in a mating press. Shiu balls were hitting your forehead instead of your chin because you were sucking his dick upside down. He loved the view of you getting fucked shamelessly on the living room floor by his boss. He also loved the feeling of your melting hot mouth on his hard dick. He sees why the Gojo guy is practically in love with you. “ Fucking hell, take all of it in your pretty little mouth pussy. Aahh, I could see the fucking bulge in her throat. Toji raised his head to look at your throat, sure enough the bulge was appearing and disappearing when he moved in and out of your mouth. Your spit was lathering up your face, chin, and chest— can’t forget his entire cock as well. Shiu wanted more of you just like Toji does.
“ Look at that.” Toji smacked your throat with a open hand making you gag even more on Shiu’s cock, “ Fucking perfect. The perfect girl in my eyes. Ughh! I think I wanna paint your body with my cum. Your body is my muse.”, Toji says prior to biting the top of your right boob. Shiu threw his head back, “ S-she can- shit. She has me stuttering because of how perfect she’s sucking my dick. She’s my fucking canvas, fuck her mouth is especially. Can’t wait to fuck her fat pussy next but for right now, swallow all of this cum, baby doll.” He pushed his dick seeped into your mouth. The movement of your body stopped a little as your eyes rolled back. Gosh, being treated like a whore is so fun, as long as it’s displayed like that in the bedroom settings. All the men you fucked understood the assignment and this one will fit in perfectly. You couldn’t even feel anything because your senses was fucking with you at the moment.
You only knew they both came with you when Toji moaned out your name while stroking his semen on your tummy. Some of the cum dripped down your body rolls and he fell in love with you right then and there. You came on his cock with the muffled screams crowding the room and he came on your body, shuddering from the impact of your pussy. Meanwhile Shiu was now making out with you after you swallowed his cum, “ You did so good, my little princess. Can we fuck you again? Can I?” You nodded your head prior to sitting up with the help of Shiu. Your body shook as you crawled over to Toji to engulf the tip of his cock in your mouth sucking him dry. He was panting and whimpering at you sucking on his tip, now he was the one who couldn’t take it. Oh well.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Choso kamo: + standing doggystyle
It was hard to get to Choso because he was closed off and to himself. You figured because he was the emo/ goth guy of the group meanwhile they are just regular. You knew that Choso had a big dick because you could tell from the way he walked and how quiet and preserved he was. You didn’t always believe in quiet men having big dicks because it was just an opinion but after getting choso alone because you fucked with your car to get it fixed and needed someone to fix it or stay with you. Yes you did do that just because you heard through the grapevine( Gojo) that he does mechanical work on the side of being an assistant.
Right now, you two are the only ones in this abandoned parking lot where a grocery store used to be and it was late at night. He was seeing what caused your car to break down- hood raised up while he tweaks and checks some things. You, on the other hand, fixed yourself up and fixed your hair up, “ Did you find it yet? Or do you need help with the flashlight part?” Choso slammed the hood of the car down and stared right into your eyes with an angry expression on your face. He turned to sit on the hand prior to making a motion finger to get you to come to him and you obeyed quickly. Once you stood in front of him, he turned you around and whispered the words you didn’t think would come out his mouth, “ you want my cock, right? That’s why you purposely did that to your car. Such a succubus really. Pulling me in and here I am falling for it. You got me, now satisfy me, pretty girl.”
Your clothes was discarded and you had nothing but your bra on as he was digging into your pussy from behind. Your car rocked as he bounced your ass up and down his dick, “ That’s it, pretty boy. Fuck me like you mean it.” You knew he liked to be in control but controlled at the end of the day. A fucking switch if you want to put a name to it. He became puddin in your hands as soon as he pushed two clean fingers inside of your pussy and now his dick was the replacement for his fingers. He watched as your ass plopped down on him and wished he could capture this moment in his mind forever. Want to replay it like a broken record on repeat. That’s how amazing this felt right now. “ Hah, sh-shit, pretty girl. You feel amazing to be inside of.” You as your hands were placed along the side of him on the cold surface of the car— you rolled your hips, “ Mhmm, tell me more, baby.”
Choso suddenly grabbed your arms to place them behind your back, fucking into you with his big heavy balls slapping in between your thighs, “ I want to impregnate you so badly, right now. You were always the thoughts clouding up my brain. Everytime I - mmph!- thought about you stress went away that quick. You have a healthy and unhealthy affect on me. I hate it and I hate you!” He started to fuck you even more harder with one hand now snaked around your neck and the other one still holding your wrist together. The rolls on your body rippled along with his thrust, as well as your ass. You couldn’t even get a word out, “ You’re fucking me so good! Uuhhh! Yes right there, fuck me like you hate me, so’. I need it.” You kept repeating need it as drool slipped out of your mouth to the floor. One of your lashes was coming off from how hot the night air was. You thought you looked ugly right now but Choso thought the opposite. You looked even more beautiful fucked out under the moon light.
Choso bit your ear lobe as you tightened and untightened your pussy on his cock. He heard your cries and knew you just came on his cock just like he wanted, “ shit, baby. I don’t think I could hold on ang longer from the way you’re squeezing me right now. So please, where do you want me to cum? Hmm?” You whimpered prior to speaking, “ I want to suck you off, please. Please, lemme suck your dick.” Choso stopped with a hiss and pulled out at the same time of you dropping to your knees carefully on the concrete floor, scraping them a little. That’s something you will regret later.
Choso moved his hair out his face and looked down at you with low eyes and puffed up red cheeks. He watched as you placed kitten licks on his cock, savoring your taste on his dick which made him let out a broken moan. “ You like that, don’t you?” Choso rubbed your cheek with his thumb, “ Yes, fuck yes!, I do. Mmmm, you’re being such a good slut right now.” You laughed while continuing to place kitten licks under the head of his dick where his trigger vein is at. His tip was turning an angry red even if it had a little tint of brown, “ Cum f’me, So’. Cum in this pretty mouth, pretty face, cum for me baby.” He folded as soon as you said baby and gave one more kitten lick as you said it. He moaned out your name like a werewolf in heat, “ Fucking yes! Ohh I can’t take anymore, wait. Wait, ahhh fuck yes!” His reaction was because your pretty lips wrapped around his cock sucking up every last drop. “ Your fucking- hahhh’~ draining me baby.” Your laugh practically caused him to whine even more since it made a vibration on his tip. 6 down, two more to go.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Higuruma Hiromi: shower + against the wall
You never tried anal before but for Hiromi you’re willing to. You caught him in the bathroom while he was taking a shower at your apartment. He only stopped by yours because it was close and he was already forming a little bond with you over these past few weeks from the text messages. You so badly wanted to talk dirty to him in the text messages but was waiting for the right moment and right now was the right moment.
You were walking past your bathroom when you heard groans. Your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you that’s for sure, so you snuck inside the bathroom while Gojo was calling your phone after just fucking one of his hook-ups. He always called you whenever they wouldn’t satisfy him and you would turn him down every time telling him to go wash his dick off. What a coincidence that Hiromi is washing his clothes off. He was sensitive because he wasn’t jerking off at all. He was washing it until you heard a whisper of your name. Next thing you know after washing up with him, you were hanging onto him with your legs wrapped around his waist, “ You ever tried anal before, cupcake.” You shook your head no and he asked you if you would like to try— nodding your head yes to the question, which lands you a finger in your ass going in and out, carefully, “ You're taking this so well, cupcake. I think with a few more pumps you’ll be ready for my dick.”
Luckily the water was the lube for now but that still wasn’t enough so he spit on his fingers and fingered your ass even faster making you throw your head back in euphoria, “ Ahhnn, that feels so damn - mmph!” Hiromi smirked at your reaction with his wide big eyes staring directly into yours. He stopped fingering you and kissed you on your mouth. His lips were so soft against yours as the water ran over his entire body meanwhile only running down your face and tits. “ You.” He kissed your lips one last time. “Ready?” Another kiss on the top of your nose. You nodded your head as he moved up a little to get from under the water. You helped him get the water out his eyes prior to him messaging the opening of your ass.
Your breath got caught in your throat when he moved inside of your ass, you couldn’t even notice one tear sliding down your eyes, “ Fuck!” Hiromi kissed all over your face trying to ease you up and it worked because you were a sucker for light affection as well. He paused to let you get comfortable— moving inside of you more steady when you welcomed his tip inside of your puckered hole even more. You never thought but anal would feel this amazing or is it just Hiromi groping your ass as he moved up and down inside of you. His cock was bruising your whole body so well that you were crying without any words, just whimpers and moans. Hiromi chuckled and you could feel it on your chest as well, adding more to your pleasure/ humiliation of even trying anal, “ Look at you, so pretty taking my cock in that pretty ass of yours. You’re mine now.”
As soon as he said that he started moving even more faster inside of you despite your size because he was still holding you up, fucking you up inside and it felt so good. Soo good. “ everytime I slam into your ass, it jiggles on my fingers, adding to my fetish baby. Ass has always been something I admire for a long time and you know how long I’ve been staring at your ass. Ready to bend you over any minute.” Your mouth opened and a scream came from it turning into a loud moan of Hiromi’s name, “ Mmgh! Aaah! Keep pounding me just like that.” You gripped his cock everytime he slammed inside of your hot ass, fuck he wanted to spend so much time worshipping every inch of your body. “ Gonna cum for me, hmm, cupcake, gonna fuck~ cum onto my cock.” You nodded and kissed him as you moved up and down chasing your orgasm as well.
The sound of balls slapping your ass was enough to end you over the edge. Hiromi fucked you even harder, speeding up his movements trying not to fall. He snapped his hips into yours four more times— cumming into your little asshole. Throwing his head back as the water slid down his hair, face, and onto his neck. Hiromi came back up and placed you down on the floor, shaking as he did it. Your asshole felt brand new because of the loss of virginity and his cock size. He was freaking big and you didn’t know how you fit him inside but then again once you looked down, he was still a little hard. You body shook and jumped a bit as you got in your knees, licking his cock clean of your juices and his mixed together, “ You’re so fucking nasty, my love. I fucking love it.” You never did this before but there’s a first time for everything. One more to go.
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ Sukuna: two dicks/ mouths in your bed in front of the mirror + full Nelson
You never in your life heard of someone with two dicks. It was rare and I’m sure there’s a name for it out there somewhere. Sukuna was a strange individual, he had tribal tattoos on his arms and probably all over his body but that’s not gonna stop you anytime soon. He may be strange, in your mind that just means the dick is extravagant, so you couldn’t wait to try it. You sent the text to sukuna that you wanted to fuck two days after Hiromi fuck session. You’ve been on a role and haven't caught my Gojo yet, but then again does it matter. No, it didn’t not because you two are flings, so you would fuck whoever you wanted and he could do the same, just not friends. Somehow your ears were closed when he said that one.
Reasons why your anklet is back to your ear with arms wrapped around your legs holding your head in place as well. You was getting fucked in your pussy and ass by one person: Sukuna. You were moaning like a bitch in heat as you were put in a full nelson by someone as big and strong like him. Your pussy was on full display in front of your mirror and you couldn’t be more happy at the feeling of two dicks fucking you, “ Ohnnn bitch, fucking hell this hurts so good, kuna’.” He wanted to hear you say his name on a scratched cd saying the same thing over and over. His hand reached to play with your pretty pussy, rubbing your clit as he still moved up and down inside of your pussy and ass, “ Give me what I want, my little Bimbo. You don’t think I noticed your entire aura and act. You didn’t think I heard the stories from each one of them. They fucking love you and I now love your pussy as well because I could never love a little girl like you.” You burst out crying at his mean words. He was being such a meanie and asshole.
This is the degradation you hated and loved because it may be true. Sukuna laughed at your choked moans/sobs, “ So fucking pretty but pathetic. Playing the game but didn’t know that I made the game a long time ago. Shit~ this pussy is beautiful inside and out, but you're still nothing but a bitch in heat.” You were about to talk back but he pulled your head into a nasty kiss. This was true hate fucking and you couldn’t even process this because when did he hate you so much, now you hated him just as much. Who does sukuna think he is talking to you like he was? He made you feel trashy and that was the greatest feeling you could feel. Degrading was a part of your mind every and any day. Words hurt so good.
Sukuna dick from your pussy popped out making him stop completely, “ Put it back in before I stop completely. You’re not even gonna get to fucking lick off my cum once I cum inside of this soaking whorish pussy and ass.” Your moans and cries were louder than before since he sped up as soon as you placed his cock back into your weeping pussy. Little groans were escaping his mouth as he fucked you so good, better than he did with other women. Maybe because he fucked them without passion just complete degradation.
“ M’gonna cum, m’fucking cummin’. Ohh~.”, Sukuna swears when your head is laid back on his huge chest, your eyes crossed in complete bliss. “ That’s right baby, cum on this dick. Your pussy and ass is mine forever now. You are mine. Gojo gonna have to give you up to me. Fuckkkk~”. His balls slapped inside against your clit and pussy two more times ensuring that he’s cumming inside of you. “ So fucking perfect!”
Sukuna stood up with his cocks still inside of you. Afterwards, he placed you on the bed carefully, kissing your head as he stood in front of you, “ Sorry if I was mean, my sweet doll. Had to be, release my anger for you going to them first instead of me.” You smiled up at him with low eyes— soon licking up and down his dicks tasting both of them. If you couldn’t lick one you would just stroke the other and trade off when the other one is clean. After cleaning them both off even with his body shaking and low moans erupting from him, you spoke, “ Save the best for last.” Sukuna smirked down at you, proud of you. You won the game, or did you?
･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ All of them: in your living room + bukkake
After two weeks, you were in a jam, a good one. This was so unexpected but what could you say? Absolutely nothing since you have a huge cock in your mouth, brown eyes looked down at you in admiration. Nanami was so beautiful to look at as you gave him a blow job. Blonde hair discheveled and cheeks bones going and out from the low breathes he took. Every part of your body was being played in front of Gojo who was sitting on the chair with red blush covering his entire face. He didn’t want to find out you were fucking his friends this way and he wanted to be angry, disappointed even but he couldn’t when you looked so fucking sexy taking this many cocks.
His cock was being stroked by Geto as he breathed in and out while keeping his eyes on you, taking Choso inside of your ass, Hiromi inside of your pussy, and shiu played with your tits as his cock slid between the crack of your leg bending. Toji was on the other side of you with his cock in your face waiting for you to suck him off as well and you did eagerly. Nanami and Toji smashed their lips together in the heat of the moment. You were kinda glad the attention is completely off you and their indulging in themselves instead of focusing on you all the time. But
Sukuna used your feet to stroke his cocks, loving the feeling of your panty hose stockings on his cocks. You weren’t really interested in foot jobs because they were weird. But Sukuna looks like he’s having a good time from the corner of your eye, besides it felt a little good. “ Look, Satoru. Look at how she’s becoming everyone’s pretty little angelic, slut right in front of your eyes. All that boasting was just preparing us for something like this.”
Your gags and gargles were heard around the room as Toji yanked your head up and down his cock. Your hands were full and so was your pussy and ass, you couldn’t be more happy especially when you saw Gojo enjoying himself with Geto as well in a heated makeout session while he was playing with his cock. You two were in bliss, you never wanted this to end.
After, taking all of their cocks inside of your pussy and ass, you came on their dicks as many times as you can count on your fingers, they all stood around your body as you sat on your knees on the fur carpet in your living room. You stuck your tongue out for everyone as you seen your cum lathered on all of their dicks, damn you made these men tired epesically Gojo Satoru, your first target. “ Good girl, stick your tongue out just like that.”, Suguru says closing his eyes with his head thrown back. You caught all of his cum swallowing it with no problem. Sukuna grabbed your hand to stroke his cock, gosh was he huge in size and height. You thought that as you looked up at him. He was 7’0 or up, the tallest one out of the group.
Everyone came on your face, you couldn’t see because you had your eyes close because Hiromi was a messy shooter, always had been. You smiled even more when you heard a click of a camera, “ Such a fucking whore, I love you.” It was Gojo who took the pic and Gojo was the first one to say I love you. Your job was done, he cracked.
Tagging: @shunsuist ( don’t know if you want me to tag your old account), @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @simpingfor-wakasa @bontens-angel and plenty more who wants to be tagged
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#chubby reader#x black reader#black reader#anime x black!reader#anime x reader#anime men x reader#anime men smut#gojo satoru smut#toji fushiguro smut#geto suguru smut#nanami kento smut#hiromi higuruma smut#shiu Kong smut#shiu kong#choso kamo smut#jjk drabbles#jjk headcanons#jjk x black reader#sukuna smut#plus size reader
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