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kaicubus · 1 year

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All That You Want | Hantengu Clones

This is a choose your own path style fanfiction!! At the end of this post there will be four links with descriptions of where you want to go, and what character you’ll end up reading about. All of these outcomes are 18+ so readers beware.

cw : mentions of killing, actual killing, cursing, demon slayer activities.

Art by Mdwyer5 on DeviantArt

You are a hashira. You reside amongst the strongest team of swordsmen that have been trained for years to put an end to all demon kind, no matter how vile, disgusting, big or small, the creatures can be. It is your duty and purpose to kill each and every single one.

At first, you had joined the Demon Slayer Corps to find out who you wanted to be in life. While others had their own personal motives, yours was somewhat introspective and thoughtful, not wanting to cause any disruption in the peace that was unknowing to your peers. You tended to float around quietly, observing everyone as they planned, trained, and feasted with everyone else, making memories and laughing with each other.

A part, no, every part of you wanted that. But even when you had passed all the tests and gained your title as a hashira, you still felt like a lowly swordsman and nothing else. You had thought there was just a few more tasks that needed to be done in order to find your own personalized breathing technique that each other hashira possessed. Some unbeatable task never done before.

Everyone had always made light of the situation to help boost your spirits, but it always reminded you that no matter how anyone looked at you, they would always pity you. With no breathing style, there was a severe disadvantage and low chance of you actually fighting the demons your fellow hashiras slayed. This time was different though.

Over the past few days, you had overheard one of your fellow hashiras talking about a demon of the twelve kizuki, a hierarchical ranking of only the most strongest demons. More specifically, the fourth Upper Moon. Hantengu. From what you know, Hantengu is a demon that holds great power, despite keeping the appearance of an old, frail man, with a growing bulge on his forehead. His blood demon art enables him to split himself into individual clones of himself and create entities that represent four main emotions : rage, pleasure, joy, and sorrow. Each of them hold their own incredible power through their thoughts and feelings of the main body, Hantengu, or the cowardly emotion of fear. You didn’t know how his demon blood art was activated, but there was only one way to find out.

No other hashira has worked their way up to meet or even seen the fourth Upper Moon, but not even the strongest of your peers were quick enough to act as you did.

There was only one way to prove to them that you are worthy of your status as a fellow hashira, and only one way to finally find your breathing technique, alone, and on your own. That was to find Hantengu and slay him, all of him.

The journey itself proved to be long and boring, as per usual. Yet you refused to think of anything other than Hantengu. Nothing else could take your attention off your sword, all the sharp edges that could seamlessly cut through any demons flesh. It was unbreakable, and it’s never met it’s match before. If Hantengu is who everyone says he is, be heading him would be easier than any task you’ve had, you’re confident.

When you arrive to Hantengu’s hidden location, you’re able to sneak in quietly and quickly, practically merging with the shadows. A faint smell of dust and mothballs fills your senses, an indication of just how untouched the rest of the area must be besides the single room Hantengu would be hiding in. Your eyes follow the ceiling and trace the walls above and you start to search for the demon, not making any sound as you do so. To catch him off guard would give you an even better advantage that you already had, but your element of surprise almost always goes undetected.

You start walking around and looking in possible rooms he could be in, and after a few minutes of searching, you let out a deep sigh and come to the conclusion that Hantengu isn’t here and you wasted your time.

That was, until you stood face to face with Hantengu himself, or what at least appeared to be a miserable, frail demon—fitting his description perfectly. He’s crouched and hiding…under a table? You knew what he was capable of, but looking at the heavy lidded eyes of an emaciated entity, you can’t help but feel pity on it. Just like you’ve done for yourself for so long.

Taking a step forward, your feet glide against the bamboo flooring, crunching down on the thin material. Hantengu, now aware of your presence, skitters backwards and falls on his back. The sight makes you cringe. He sounds like bones clattering. His greasy, shoulder length hair appears to be thinning, and his sad head seems to be deprived of all hair follicles.

You hold your ground. Surely, this had to be Hantengu’s true form. The cowardly nature of such a miserable creature fits how he’s described, but you can’t help but wonder how he’s capable of such power.

He’s covered in veins and wrinkles and his horns are barley larger than the diameter of his arms. If you blew on him, he would vanish.

“What…What are you doing here…you…human?” He sounds unsure of himself, still, his voice squeaking and breaking as if he hasn’t spoken in years.

“My name is Y/n, I know exactly who you are Hantengu.” You point an accusing finger at the shivering demon. He instantly falls to his face and bows his head.

“I know of no such thing! I’m innocent! Completely innocent! You can’t take me away! I did nothing wrong!”

Your eyes flutter as you’re taken off guard. “Uhm. Woah, calm down. This won’t hurt. Jeez…”

Hantengu looks up from his vein clustered hands, pointing a slender finger towards you, “It’s hashiras like you who made me! You! You’re responsible for this! Look at me!” He lurches forward but steps on his black kimono and trips on the throbbing bump on his forehead. He makes a muffled ‘ouch!’ sound and tries getting up, but gets stopped when he realizes his horns pierced through the flooring.

“Just…answer me. Why are you here?” Hantengu plucks himself from the bamboo floor and hunches his back into a protective shell-like posture, almost like a loafing cat, all for security.

“Hantengu of the fourth Upper Moon, I’m sorry, but I have to—“

Suddenly, he cries out, “I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna! I was hiding from you demon slayers! Why did you go and have to find me! I didn’t do anything wrong!!!”

Your eyebrow twitches. “You’ve taken multiple innocent lives, feasted on their flesh and blood, and now you’re hiding because you’re too scared to admit what you’re doing is wrong. Really fucked up. Don’t you know, or have any bit of consciousness left inside you to know that?”

“No!” He shouts but scurries back into a wall, “I don’t know what you’ve heard but it’s not right! Don’t accuse me of something I didn’t do! That’s wrong! You’re the villain here!”

“I’m no villain!”

“Yuh huh.” Hantengu covers his face with his hands and hides, “You’re trying to kill me!”

“No! Well, yes! But—“

“HA! See! You’re trying to kill me!”

You let out a loud groan that spooks the demon, “I’m going to kill you because all I want is to be someone! I’m not letting you stand in my way of getting what I want.”

He stares at you with his sunken in, red eyes, and through his prominently downward placed eyebrows. “Well, that’s a selfish reason.”

“IT’S NOT!” You stomp your foot and Hantengu screeches, lifting his arm protectively over his face. “I’ll make it quick. This has gone on long enough and you’re fucking annoying.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re so fucking old but you act like a child. Having a tantrum like this, you’re a coward!”

“You act like a child. You’re a coward!”

Hantengu’s mocking pushes off you the edge of insanity. To the point where you can’t take it anymore, he keeps whining and begging for his life, shaking and shivering with the fear that embodies his entire existence. Your head starts to spin.

“Enough! Enough! STOP IT!” You grab onto your sword tighter and fix your stance, “You’re so annoying!”

“No!” He chokes on his tears and coughs, hacking phlegm and saliva onto the tips of your shoes, “I’m not! You are! You aren’t leaving me alone!”

“That’s because—you know what.” You stop talking and bow your head, tilting the nichirin blade of your sword lower down to the demon, “Hantengu of the twelve Upper Moons, rest easy now and don’t ever come back.”

You quickly approach Hantengu, clutching your sword handle in your curled fists. The blinding blade flashes the demons fearful reflection into his eyes and glistens yours on the other side. He opens his mouth to beg for his life one last time, but by the time you see his teeth, the job is already done.

With a swift slice of your sword, you deliver a clean cut blow to the middle of Hantengu’s neck. Just like you trained to do. Seeing all his blood spill out of his neck and head felt good, relieving to say the least since you won’t be able to hear the squeaky, whiny voice of him ever again. His blood paints the walls and every surface it can touch, demon blood soaking the withered bamboo flooring and paper doors. You almost felt bad for making such a mess.

But, when you think it’s finally done and over, suddenly Hantengu’s head smacks against the floor and bounces up, making a disgusting ‘splat!’ sound before remaining afloat in air, giving enough room for his demon blood art to begin.

Hearing all the bones crackling and breaking sends shivers down your spine, squishing and squelching sounds emitting from Hantengu’s new slowly forming body. Unable to look away, you’re forced to watch as a new entity sprouts and grows, rather quickly, from seemingly nothing. Only this time, it was no where near as weak as Hantengu was. This time, the demon forming and standing in front of you was nearly twice your height, and from what you can tell, dressed in nothing but black hakama pants, stronger horns and closed eyes.

That’s all you manage to see before your instincts come in and you start running. Where to? You decide.

> Up the mountains, hopefully fast enough he won’t catch you.

> Into the forest, where you can hide behind the trees to catch a breath.

> Into an open area, where you can have all sorts of ranges and motions.

> Out into a flower field, where hopefully you’ll have an advantage that gives you an upper hand.

#kaicubus #demon slayer #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fanfiction #fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba #kny fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #hantengu #hantengu clones #choose your path

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kleftiko · 1 year

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❦ DANCE, DANCE

cw: mature, fem!reader, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, creampie, inexperienced!loser!shigaraki, degradation, hair pulling

it’s missing loser shigaraki hours✌️😔

“i only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me”

shigaraki lay slumped on his back. the stupid artist gloves on his hands were bugging him. he wore them every night but for some reason he kept picking at the wrist, slivers of red, irritated skin sent jolts of pain every time he scratched at it. he felt like a failure—pathetic. today had been a complete disaster and he didn’t want to face all for one like this.

the door to his room creaked open, interrupting his self deprecation. his bored eyes followed the movement to meet your head poking through the entrance. hair pushed back to show your face to him; he nearly huffed.

“what do you want.”

your eyes held an emotion that made him absolutely furious. pity. you were there to witness his defeat upon returning to base all busted and bruised; you had watched him nearly throw a tantrum at his failure of a mission, sulking and hitting things like a petulant child. the reminder made him bite the inside of his cheek harshly.

“if you say any pitiful shit, i’ll kill you.” he warned, a slight growl to his tone, and you frowned. wordlessly, you opened the door the rest of the way, revealing your bare body in nothing but your panties.

“no sympathy?” you asked and watched his adam’s apple bob harshly. his eyes bore into your body, gaze so intense you could practically hear the pounding of his heart from across the room reverberating against your uncovered skin.

god, he was so pathetic.

and you fed off it, but he didn’t care. he liked to think he let you saunter into the room towards him, when in reality you had him paralyzed with lust.

in a moment you were mounted on top of his lap; his favourite position. his hands could greedily grab at the fleshy parts of your ass, his face could smush itself between your boobs, and your hot pussy would grind on his—painfully hard—clothed cock. all he could do in the moment was desperately and sloppily suck at your tits, biting occasionally so you’d hiss at him and pull his hair as punishment. it was at that time that he didn’t care about the artist gloves anymore, if they let him grab handfuls of your ass and use you to get himself off then he didn’t care.

“you’re such a pervert, aren’t you.” your nails carded through his hair, scratching against his dry scalp, and he whined involuntarily. “throwing a little tantrum when you get home just so i would pity fuck you, huh?”

he never let anyone talk to him like that. one disrespectful word and he would have their ashes crumbling between his fingers within a second, but with you? you spit harsh, pathetic, and degrading words to his face and all he could do was spill precum from his aching, throbbing cock. you were the only one who knew he was this pathetic, never having felt the touch of a woman before you. but still, he had to try and fight back for the sake of his crumbling pride.

“watch it.” he growled, voice lifting at the end as you pulled the band of his boxers down to free his dick. “you want me to turn you to dust?”

You looked directly into his eyes.

“do it.” you challenged, moving your underwear to the side and sheathing his stiff cock inside you.

his head hit the wall harshly behind him as you bounced, losing all the bravado he tried to front in favour of releasing deplorably pitiable sounds and grabbing at you desperately.

“as if anyone would give you their pussy anyway.” you bit, mouth curling up at how quickly he crumbled. “you wanna kill the only person in the world who would fuck you? be my guest and go back to your fist.”

he whined at your words, bucking his hips up and disrupting your rhythm. you harshly tugged his hair back, jolting his neck in a whiplash-like fashion—silently telling him to behave.

it’s a miracle he listened, but you could feel the restraint he put into not sloppily fucking you, his body practically shaking. you knew if you let him, he’d unskilfully thrust into you without rhythm. he didn’t know how to fuck, but with you in charge you could utilized his thick cock and get yourself off like a toy. his fingers dug into your hips painfully, eyes screwed shut in both pleasure and an attempt to hide his tears from you, and you knew he was close. his pathetic mumbling and incoherent whines only spurred you on as you whispered condescendingly, “you okay, boss?”

you slapped a hand brutally over his chapped lips, muffling the loud, wanton, moan he let out as he spilled inside you. His body shook with his orgasm, twitching like he’d never came before from someone else’s ministrations. bouncing slowly now, he let out a string of curses at the overstimulation as you came to a stop.

“fuck.” he breathed.

as you looked down at his pathetic stature, you couldn’t help but think he was adorable—completely fucked out every time you finished with him. soft pants escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered open, gazing up at you with a haze of ecstasy. you couldn’t help but lean down and capture his lips, tongue slipping into his mouth as his hands came up to cradle your face desperately.

he wanted to stay like that, cock softening inside you as you slowly made out, but you didn’t allow it. instead, you let go of him and slipped off his dick, a trail of his cum leaking out of you before you fixed your underwear. you always left him in a mess of his own cum, knowing he was too burnt out to do anything about it.

“see you tomorrow, boss.”

#mha imagines #mha x reader #mha headcanons #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha shigaraki #shigaraki smut #bnha shigaraki #bnha x reader #bnha smut #shigaraki thirst #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki x reader

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kyufessions · 3 months

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sweetheart

synopsis: your annoying neighbor bothers you yet again

pairings: neighbor! eric x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

request: “open your mouth” + “why so shy?”

word count: 2.2k

warnings: spitting, oral (f. receiving), making out, playful teasing, pet name (sweet heart), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i’m writing this half asleep so it’s not proofread whatsoever,, oopsies

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois @haechansbbg

tbz taglist: @ilovechanhee

Only if everyone knew. Only if everyone knew that the boy next door you always swore annoyed you to your very core since you had first moved in over ten years ago, would meet you in your old tree house that stood between both of your houses at ungodly hours. With what started as another night wanting to get away from one of your family’s parties, turned into heated makeout sessions that led to what anyone would imagine.

Throughout the years, your father had been kind enough to re-do the treehouse. Seeing as you still adored it, he re-vamped it to make it seem more private and to your liking since you were now in your early 20’s. There was even a small makeshift door and small windows with curtains that you often kept closed- it was your favorite place to get away from madness when your room wasn’t cutting it. That was- until one spring night.

You had been in your treehouse reading a new novel you had bought at your local barnes and nobles, your lamp on and one of curtains slightly open to enjoy the slight breeze. Tonight your parents had some guests over from work, their conversations and jazzy background music being too loud for your liking. So you quietly made your way to your treehouse and enjoying your time alone until you heard some rocks being thrown at the door. Groaning, you ignored the disturbance. You knew exactly who it was and you did not want to deal with him tonight. One more rock, two, even three more were thrown. Thats when you stood up and fully opened up the half drawn curtain, looking down to see the annoying boy next door.

He stood there with his devilish grin, wearing a white tank and his baseball varsity jacket from the college he attended. He waved hello as soon as he saw you looking down at him, catching a glimpse of you from the limited lighting. “What do you want eric?” you shouted down, making sure your voice was only able to be heard between you both and not to disrupt what was happening inside your home.

He shrugged, his grin never fading. “I’m bored.” as you rolled your eyes and started to pull back down the curtain, he yelled back out to you. “Wait!”

You shushed him right away, his voice too loud for your liking. As you motion for him to come up the wooden ladder, he does as instructed and you watch as he climbs up halfway before you stop him with your words. “What do you want?” you ask again, annoyance stringing through your voice.

His lips form another shit eating grin. “I’m bored and saw the light on.”

“Find someone else to bother.” you start to close the door but see his hand stop it from closing.

Before you can begin to speak up again, eric decides to first. “Come on, i’ll stay in the corner and let you do your own thing. I won’t bother you. I just don’t want to be in my house right now and am grounded from using my car.”

“Is no an option?” you ask him with a puff. With a swift shake of his head, you open the door fully and allow him inside.

He looks around in amazement at the fairy lights and overall set up, noticing how you plop back on the mini couch you have set up in the corner. His eyes scan over a small drawer with a chipped paint job, old drawings and paintings hanging throughout that’s barely holding on with tape and some nails. There are some obvious new items hanging about and some older ones, and he quietly takes note of that as he walks around to inspect. As he does so, you occasionally glance at him to make sure hes not touching anything he isn’t supposed to. After a little more snooping, he takes a seat on the floor and starts aimlessly scrolling through his phone while you continue to read your novel.

Minutes pass in pure silence- nothing but the occasional hoot from a faraway owl and the distanced sound of jazz music from your home below. That was, until eric opened tiktok. His volume was louder than necessary, his laughter echoing in your ears. You try to continue your reading, trying to be the nice guy. But it felt as if each tiktok he watched just made him laugh harder than the last. You make a mental note of the page you stop on before closing your book and looking over at him, your face blank with irritation.

“If you’re going to be in here, can you at least quiet down? I’m trying to read my book.” your eyes finally meet and he just chuckles, getting up off the floor and walking over towards you.

“What’re you reading anyway?”

You clear your throat before speaking as he inches closer, trying to keep your book close to hide it from him. “None of your business, just please keep it down.”

Eric notices you trying to keep the book from him and as he steps closer he tries reaching for it but failing as you hold it closer to you. He scoffs, trying to reach for it again. “Why so shy about it, huh?” his tone is playful, his eyes beaming with curiosity as he tries to sneak a peek of the cover. You try moving your body to hide it from him but as you’re squirming, he snatches up the book and examines the cover. A small laugh leaves his lips as he notices the explicit cover, your face turning a slight shade of pink as he then reads the first page that started off juicy. When he looks down at you, your cheeks are now red and your eyes wide. “This is the shit you read?”

You stand up and grab the book back from his hands, or at least attempt to before he raises it above your head with a smirk. The height difference between you both wasn’t much, but the fact he was also wearing grey sweats right now didn’t really help the burning sensation growing in the pit of your stomach. To say eric was ugly would be the biggest lie- you actually found him quite attractive. He was just annoying and pestered you often, but he was quite handsome. As his hand was held above you, your book in his hand, you can notice his peaking bicep from under his varsity jacket.

Your silence and wandering eyes failed you as eric took note of this. “Checking me out, huh?”

As you're snapped out of your daze by his words, you jump up and grab the book from his hand successfully and try to move around him to leave but fail. Although your treehouse is spacious, it’s not the biggest either. So now you’re backed into a corner by the hot annoying neighbor who just found out you read smut. Cool. you just sit down on the small couch, puffing in annoyance in an attempt to hide how flustered you’ve become.

“No i’m not.”

His index and middle finger tap the right side of your cheek, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your red cheeks say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Normally you'd swat away his hand, but as you looked in his eyes you felt the air catch in your throat. You felt as if time had stopped due to the close proximity you both were in. the little nickname that normally bothered you made your stomach churn with butterflies, your hands gripping your book tighter.

you tried to hide it once more, trying to keep your tone high and mighty. “don’t call me sweetheart.”

“then try to act like you don’t like it and maybe i will.” eric then squats so he’s now eye level with you, his fingers tracing from your cheek all the way down your neck and to your shoulder ever so gracefully as he does so. your eyes just watch him, unsure of what this feeling is that’s come over you. his head tilts, his face amused by this. “does mommy and daddy know you read smut all up here by yourself?”

eric had always seen you as this goody-two-shoes; mommy and daddy’s most prized possession who always got fantastic grades and went to one of the best colleges the states had to offer. throughout the past ten years, he had always seen you achieve the highest possible grades with honors just to seek your parents approval. never brought over a guy, your nose always buried in a book whether it be for your studies or for fun. he also noticed how your hair never failed to be done perfectly, different colored bows or hair accessories to match your dress or skirt. you always had to present the world with this perfect image of you, and he was just so curious to get to know you deeper than this facade you try to sell everyone you come across.

he watches you shake your head, no words being spoken as you seem choked up. your eyes sparkle under the dimly lit fairy lights as they glare at him, causing him to chuckle lowly yet again. “what if they found out?”

“don’t you fucking dare eric sohn-“

“ah ah,” he slips the book from your hands, placing it beside you. “why don’t we put page one to the test?”

your eyes widen, eyebrows raising. “e-excuse me?”

eric slips off his varsity jacket, tossing it on top of your book. “i skimmed the page over. doesn’t ellen get eaten out, or am i mistaken?” you’re left speechless, yet your face continues to redden all over. eric has thought about this for years but never thought this day would come, only in his wildest of dreams.

eric stands up a little bit to hover over you, lifting your chin and leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he stares deeply into your eyes. his hair is messy, probably from the baseball practice he had earlier in the day. your lips are inches from his, yet not a word can be spoken as you’re just in shock.

“all you have to do is tell me to stop and i will.” is all eric whispers before placing his lips on yours.

both of your lips move in sync with one another, his fitting perfectly on yours. his hand moves from your shoulder to your cheek, his entire palm cupping it and his fingers placing themselves on the nape of your neck. his touch sends shivers down your spine, his fingertips delicate and careful. his other hand moves to your left thigh, starting to spread it apart from your right one. but you don’t stop him, something within you tells you to allow him. as he bites down on your bottom lip, his hand on your thigh travels to the inner part and stops near your panties. his fingertips graze your folds, the lace material feeling good against his skin.

the sound of your whimper against his lips makes his blood rush, separating his lips from yours. for a few moments he just stares down at you, taking in the view of your wide innocent eyes and puffy pink lips. “fuck you’re so pretty, you know that?”

eric then gets on his knees in front of you, and you watch as he slips off your white silk pleated skirt and stare at your pussy in awe. “all wet for me already, sweetheart?” you bite your lower lip as you watch him, arching your back against the wall at the nickname.

his fingers push the fabric aside, the fingertips grading your folds ever so slightly to take in the beauty for a second. he grins up at you before slipping in one finger, earning a gasp from you. eric starts slow, pumping in and out of you teasingly. he just stares up at you the whole time, taking in the beauty of your reactions. he watches your hand involuntarily reach for his hair, tugging on it once he picks up the pace out of satisfaction. you let out quiet moans as he slips in a second finger, not wanting anyone to potentially hear anything happening up in the treehouse.

after a few moments of his second finger, he puts his mouth to your clit. with this sudden movement you throw your head back, starting to grind against his face. eric takes in every movement you make, enjoying how you use him for your advantage to release. his fingers continue pumping in and out of you at a consistent pace, his tongue occasionally moving in and out of your hole as his lips continue to satisfy you. as your breathing pattern picks up and your legs begin shaking, he knew it was only a few seconds before you climaxed.

once you did, you let out a loud moan and eric took in every juice you offered to him. he begins licking you up, cleaning you up the only way he’s currently able to. he then leans up, grabbing you by the cheek and staring down at your tired face.

“open your mouth, baby.” he murmurs. you do as instructed, allowing him to spit in your mouth. you watch him through half-lidded eyes, smirking as you take in the taste he offers you.

and that’s the night where it all started, your friends with benefits relationship with your annoying neighbor.

#kyufessions the boyz #the boyz #the boyz eric #eric sohn #tbz eric #tbz smut #the boyz smut #eric smut #eric sohn smut #🌙 completed requests

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venuslore · 6 months

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𖥔 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𖥔

summary ; steve has been admiring you for some time now, and you’ve been wanting him too, but one halloween party finally pushes you both to make a move.

pairing ; steve harrington × fem!reader

notes ; nsfw, pet-names (baby), self-fingering and female orgasm, mentions of bodily fluids, cussing, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol (let me know if i forgot any)

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

droplets of sweat gathered on the nape of your neck, pooling in the valley between your breasts, as you danced in the middle of the crowded room. the music was loud, almost too loud, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air. not from the atmosphere or the array of eyes on you from people you had never met. not even the alcohol that coursed through your system, but only between you and him.

him, steve harrington, the only person whose attention truly mattered.

you could feel his deep, lust-filled gaze boring into you from across the room, watching you so intently you were sure you were going to combust. he stood leaning up against the wall in the far corner, one arm raised to steady himself while the other held a cup to his lips. he adorned a recycled halloween costume as robin remained by his side, talking about who knows what, but despite the little nod here and there, all he could focus on was you.

steve loved watching you. he loved watching the way your body moved to the music. he loved watching the way you would meet his gaze, the slightest glint of a smirk tugging at your lips before continuing to pretend that he wasn't even there. he specifically loved watching the way your skirt would hitch up your thighs the same way it would whenever you went into his work.

he was sure he was the reason behind it. no, he knew he was the reason behind it. that you would purposely pull your skirt higher just for him, and even more so when you would bend over in the aisles pretending to look for something on the bottom shelf. being well aware that he was the only one that could see you.

he knew what you were doing — that you knew what you were doing — stringing him along and playing hard to get. you were challenging him. you weren't giving in to him like every other girl that looked his way recently.

you were making him work for it - for you.

except tonight he had other plans. tonight, he was finally going to get what he wanted. at least, so he thought.

"listen, i know it was my idea to crash this party, but it's kinda lame," eddie joins you, disrupting your dancing and slowing down your movements. "y'wanna find the others and get out of here?"

eddie was right. the party itself was lame. the only thing giving you any sort of entertainment was the free alcohol and the look on steve's face; steve who had now disappeared from where he stood only a moment ago as you peer over your friend's shoulder.

the munson boy waits for you to answer, your attention now absent from the conversation as you scanned the room rapidly but there was no sign of him anywhere. eddie repeats his question, but it's not until he snaps his impatient fingers in your face that you finally return to him.

"c'mon, let's find steve and robin and we'll go back to mine. can finally show you that new riff i learnt on the guitar," he imitates playing his sweetheart, hair bouncing in an unruly mess, as more bystanders begin to stare.

you laugh, giving him a slight nudge, "okay, munson. i'll search upstairs, you search downstairs."

the two of you pan off in different directions, you heading for the staircase by the front door as he began in the kitchen. as you pushed your way through the crowd, weaving yourself to the entryway, you spot robin at the bottom of them, but still no sign of steve.

you call her name, but your voice falls on deaf ears over the music. she twirls around, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt when she finally spots you and a relieved smile bestows upon her lips.

"we're gonna go back to eddie's. where's steve?" you raise your voice, leaning towards her ear so that she could hear you.

"he went upstairs. something about needing a moment away from the music,” she gestures upstairs where there were far less people. "i'll go get him."

she turns to head up the stairs but your hand catches her arm before she can so much as put her foot on the bottom step, "it's okay, i'll get him. you go find eddie and we'll meet you at his van."

robin nods, though there seems to be a knowing look in her eyes, a hint of a smirk as if there were some obvious secret only you didn't know about, and she traipses off toward the kitchen in search of eddie.

once alone, you take one look up the large staircase and let out a deep breath. this was it, this was the moment you were finally going to tell steve that if he truly wanted you so bad, it was about time he did something about it.

with each step, your heart seems to beat a little bit faster. the top of the stairs growing further away and when you finally get to them, there are only a couple of small groups of people scattered along the balustrade. you weave your way through the crowd once more to find the bathroom and just as you're about to knock, it opens before your hand can graze the wood with your knuckles.

steve stands on the other side, eyes widening when he sees you, but the sight of him causes the breath in your throat to catch. his dishevelled hair, deep pink lips and dark eyes entrapped by a red tinge - he was truly a sight for sore eyes.

"y/n," your name falls off the tip of his tongue like sweet honey, sending an immediate wave of bumps across your skin. "are you okay?" he looks almost concerned, brows furrowing when it takes you a moment to answer.

"uh, yeah. we're going to ditch the party and, um, and..." you pause for a beat, words turning to a jumbled mess inside your head and all the confidence you had tried to bestill had disappeared. "... um, head back to eddie's. we're going to head back to eddie's." you repeat it a second time for safe measure.

he nods, slowly, his eyes purposely falling to your lips as he exhales and leans back against the doorframe, "yeah. i mean, we could do that..." his words are even slower, pulling you in with each syllable. "or... we could talk about what's really going on here?"

this was it. this was the moment he was finally going to do something about it.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you lift your right shoulder into a shrug, pursing your lips before gazing up at him through your lashes.

his lips part as he leans in closer, his face so close you could feel his alcohol-saturated breath on your cheek. "so, i'm just imagining you pulling up that pretty little skirt of yours on purpose, huh?"

you almost gasp, throat tightening with need. need for him. "apparently... though, it's nice to know you've been thinking about me."

the devilish grin on your face now infuriates him because, once again, you were in control.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, fingers raking through his hair, "what am i going to do with you?"

"i don't know. what are you going to do with me?" a moment of realisation passes through his eyes. you want him to do something about it, want him to finally give in to the urges. all this time, he had been waiting, and now, here you were, allowing him to have what had been torturing him.

while his head races with a million thoughts, in reality, only seconds had passed by, but those few seconds were more than enough to build a wall of tension. his gaze falls to your lips once more, and in a heated movement of passion, he finally takes the leap and presses his to them.

soft moans reverberate through his neck, daring to carry you away as your fingers curl through his hair. you press yourself against him, almost knocking him over, but he answers your neediness and pulls you into the bathroom to close the door and lock it.

all the tension, flirty looks and suggestive gestures that had been building up over the past few months had finally started to unravel in a matter of seconds. igniting you both so much so that you were sure to catch fire.

the kisses seem to last forever, despite feeling rushed, and when he starts to trail his lips down the side of your neck, you're left a hot mess as you try to regain your breath. your core was already aching for attention, throbbing within your underwear, as his hands ran rampant all over your body.

he glides his tongue across your skin, hair tickling your face as he begins to suck lightly, "you've no idea what you've done to me. how badly i've wanted this." he mumbles against you, sparking thought in your mind, and at this, you gently push him away and slide yourself back on the counter.

"is that so?" you breathe heavily. "tell me about it."

there's a glint of confusion in his eyes, brows slightly furrowing, as he stands between your legs. you had so much power over him and you planned to keep it that way.

if you gave in to him so easily, all the long months you had spent teasing and hinting at him would've been for nothing. he needed to know that you weren't going to give yourself up to him just because he wanted it - he needed to earn you.

"d'you really want me, harrington?" your words are low, breathy, sending shivers down his spine as he gazes into your eyes.

"fuck," he nods, the word shakily falling from his lips and he swallows hard. "i want you so bad."

your lips quirk up once again, heart beating so fast it was thrumming in your ears. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his, and whisper, "tell me what you want... while you watch me touch myself." before planting your teeth around his bottom lip and tugging on it.

"w-what?" there's a hitch in his voice as you feel yourself growing wet within the confines of your underwear. he's stunned. eyes wide and jaw taut.

"tell me what you want, and i'm yours, but... touch me, and you lose." your words are barely above a whisper but they're enough to send shivers down his body.

his breath catches in his throat, letting out a small gasp, as his dewy brown eyes bore into you once again. only this time, there was determination clouding them. he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, and he was going to do everything he could to get you - to finally feel you.

he opens his mouth to speak but stops when you lean back against the mirror, hitching your skirt up and spreading your legs before him. revealing the black lace underwear you had worn in anticipation. the same pair that he had only ever caught glimpses of.

"what's the matter, harrington? you like watching me... don't you?" you ask, coyly, batting your lashes.

he groans, lulling his head back to reveal his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows once more. you lift a finger to touch the tip of his chin, letting it trail down his chest before landing between your legs. he watches your hand as if his life depended on it.

you slowly trace the edges of your underwear where your core was barely covered. lips poking out around the thin material, gathering up your wetness when your finger starts to rub small circles over the top of them.

"are you wet?" steve asks, and you nod, brows arching from the touch already.

he shuffles nervously on his feet, pulling at the material around his crotch to give himself more growing space, but his eyes never leave you. not for a second. and they only double in size when you finally move your panties to the side, confirming your answer - your sweetness glistening under the dim bathroom glow.

"holy f-fuck, y/n," he retorts with astonishment, almost falling to his knees at the sight of you before him. "you're killing me here."

"tell me more," you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, collecting the saliva that had gathered, and gently start moving them across your sweet little bundle of nerves.

"you're so fucking pretty, baby. i bet you're so warm too. i bet your pretty little pussy is so fucking warm," his words caress your ears as your movement starts to speed up, building up the sensation in your core. "i want you so bad. i want to feel you wrapped around my cock. every fucking inch of you."

a small chuckle falls from your lips, as you now press your middle finger into your hole. moaning at the feeling and slowly you begin to fuck yourself, all while steve's eyes remain trained on you. catching a glimpse of you fingering yourself but focusing on your facial expressions and the way you're making your own mouth fall open with ecstasy.

"fuck your little hole, baby," he says, almost demandingly, which again makes you want to prove that you were still in control. so you add another finger. "fucking hell, i want to taste you so bad."

"mmm-yeah? you wanna taste me, harrington? you wanna know what my pretty little pussy tastes like?" your words are slightly muffled, as you continue to penetrate yourself. fingers gliding in and out of your goodness with ease, hitting just the right spot as the top of your palm rubs your clit, causing your hips to buck up a little.

his hand involuntarily falls to his crotch, he didn't think you noticed. but it was a little hard not to when he begins palming himself through his pants as his eyes burned with so much desire. desire for you.

you can feel the coil within your core on the verge of breaking, ready to snap as you near your end. the pleasure of it all becoming too much, as your hips buck more rapidly, face contorting and mouth falling agape. you grab onto steve's jacket with your free hand, gripping the material and bringing him closer.

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum," your breathing is unsteady, all over the place as you get closer, wrapping your arm around steve's head to grab a fistful of his hair. “make me cum, harrington.”

“show me how you cum, baby. show me how pretty you look when you let it all go. you do that and i’m gonna fill you up so good,” his voice is low as he presses his head to yours. “you want me to bury my cock in you, don’t you?”

"mmm- fuck yeah," your moan is cut off by steve's mouth as he presses his lips to yours once more. immediately gliding his tongue across them for permission and you give it to him, letting his tongue enter.

and just like that, you're overcome with stimulation. a wave of sensation coursing through you but steve doesn't pull away, instead, he muffles your cries with kisses as he takes in the sight of you. completely vulnerable as you chase your high. chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace as your hips twitch and buck, eyes glazed over and brows arched. to hear the sweet noises you made, muffled or not.

it was a sight he had only seen once, but, oh boy, did he want to see it again.

"oh, fuck," you sigh, words split by your panting as you try to regain your breath. you still hadn't stopped fingering yourself, only slowed down the movements as your creamy goodness collected along them.

"i'm that good of a kisser, huh?" steve chuckles, staring down at you still slowly pumping your digits into yourself, eyes unwavering from the wetness that covered them.

"whatever makes you sleep better at night," you smirk, finally pulling your fingers from your pussy at the same time someone knocks on the door. "i guess that's our cue to go. eddie and robin will be waiting for us."

you both slide off the counter, your underwear slipping down to your feet as you quickly wash your hands. but rather than pulling them back on when you’re done, you gather them and scrunch them into a ball.

"what are you doing?" steve asks, confused when you pull the pocket of his jacket open and slip them inside.

"think of it as a parting gift," you smile, patting it closed then lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips, "plus, it's easier access for later."

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#steve harrington ᰔ #— not sfw ! ᰔ #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff

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coldfanbou · 4 months

Text

Plaything

Alright, so this is the Yuna fic. What I didn't say was that this was Yuna being used by the rest of Itzy. Blep sent this in as an idea that I loved. I did add a little side thing between Yeji and Ryujin.

Length 2K

Yuna x GP Itzy

Yuna walked into her special room, hidden away from the offices of the regular workers. She sat down and waited for her masters to come. They had all spoken about meeting with her. She laid down on her bed, face down, with her skirt lifted onto her back, giving whoever came in first would get a look at her ass. She knew it would get them going. While she waited, Yuna went through her phone and kicked her feet, slowly getting bored.

Chaeryoung, Ryujin, Lia, and Yeji discussed what they would do with Yuna. The four of them spoiled her rotten in exchange for some stress relief. They all wanted to use Yuna on this particular day. “The easiest option is if we all fuck her. After all, she loves being fucked. It’ll be perfect for her.” Yeji said, voicing her opinion. The others nodded along, considering other options before Ryujin spoke up.

“I want her ass.” The others looked at her before looking at each other, the same thought running through their head.

“I want her pussy!” Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeji shouted simultaneously.

“You’ll all get a turn, but I think Yeji said it first,” Ryujin said with a sly smile. Lia and Chaeryeong sighed, admitting defeat. The four of them walk over to Yuna’s room. Ryujin loosens her tie as she goes. She began walking faster, Ryujin was getting hard thinking about Yuna’s ass, and it made her pants feel tighter. She doesn’t wait for the others to reach the door, instead opening it up to see Yuna’s ass on display. Ryujin pulls her cock out of her pants, stroking it as she walks toward Yuna. She grabs the young woman’s waist, getting Yuna’s attention, and pulls her onto her lap. Yuna feels Ryujin’s hard cock between her cheeks and begins grinding on her with a sultry smile.

“You’re already hard, Mommy. Do you want me that badly?”

“Of course, I want to ruin your little ass, baby.” A knock on the door disrupts their moment. The other three stand there looking at Yuna with hungry eyes. They walk in and close the door behind them, locking it. Chaeryeong and Lia sit beside Ryujin while Yeji stands in front of Yuna, tilting her head back and planting a kiss on her lips.

“You’re going to have a busy day, baby.” She says to the younger woman, placing Yuna’s hand on her bulge. “You can take care of all of us, right?” Yuna gives the older woman a nod as she fishes Yeji’s cock out of her pants. She slowly strokes it, pleasing Yeji as she fixes Yuna’s hair. Yeji moves her hips along with Yuna’s strokes, humming as she enjoys the feel of her soft hand. Chaeryeong and Lia feel up Yuna’s tits, not wanting to be left out. They pull out their cocks, jerking themselves off while they wait for their turn. Ryujin moved her hand under Yuna’s skirt, adjusting her panties and pressing her cock against Yuna’s puckered hole.

“Mommy-” Yeji stuffed her cock into Yuna’s mouth, keeping the young woman quiet. Yuna, once she got a cock in her mouth, changed. She became completely submissive; her tongue swirled around the older woman’s head, and she allowed Ryujin to drag her body down. The young woman’s groans were suppressed, but they still grew louder as she felt Ryujin’s cock spread her asshole apart. The thick shaft moved deeper inside of her as Ryujin continued to pull Yuna’s body down.

“Shit, you’re so tight. My baby has been training.” Ryujin said with a smile as she finally bottomed out. The cock inside her asshole made her feel full. Yeji was going to add to that now, being unable to wait. She pushed Yuna against Ryujin and rubbed her cock between her folds. The young woman’s moans were filling the air, arousing the others. Chaeryeong and Lia stripped Yuna of her shirt and began playing with her bare breasts, attaching themselves to them. Yuna whined as she felt the two sucking on her tits. Yeji took her time with Yuna, running her finger along her slit until she reached her clit. She gave it a quick flick, making the younger woman squirm. Yuna’s ass tightened around Ryujin at the same time, making the older woman moan as she thrust into a tighter hole. Liking the reaction, Yeji did it again before finally stuffing Yuna. Yeji slid her cock in with ease, reveling in the familiar feeling of Yuna’s cunt and being able to feel Ryujin’s cock through her walls. Yuna rested her body against Ryujin's, being filled in both holes and making her lose her mind. Her eyes were half-lidded, and she continually mumbled about feeling full. Chaeryeong climbed onto the bed, positioning herself above Yuna’s head and presenting the young woman with her cock. Yuna grinned at Chaeryeonog before opening her mouth. Chaeryeong wasted no time sliding her cock inside Yuna’s mouth. She immediately groaned, feeling her tongue lapping at the head.

Now stuffed with three cocks, Yuna was in complete bliss. She gingerly moved her fingers along her slit, increasing the pleasure and making herself cum. As her walls tightened around Ryujin and Yeji, she could feel every detail as their cocks pushed their way inside. Her vibrating throat gave more pleasure to Chaeryeong. Chaeryeong loved using Yuna’s mouth; she always thought of her lips as being perfect when they were around her cock. Chae rested her hands on the young woman’s chest, squeezing Yuna’s tits as she shut her eyes and focused on the feeling of warm saliva on her cock.

Lia sat on the side, watching Yuna be used like a toy. She stroked her cock quickly, her mouth hanging open as low groans left her. She stripped down as she waited and aided the others, helping Yeji remove her shirt before doing the same to Chaeryeong. Being unable to get a piece of Yuna, Lia settled on toying with the others, occasionally cupping Yeji’s small tits and pulling on her nipples. She was trying to egg her on, to get her to cum early so she could have her turn.

Yeji was getting closer to her climax; the constant thrusting and rubbing against Ryujin’s cock through Yuna’s walls made her grit her teeth as she tried to hold on. Ryujin wasn’t doing much better; Yuna’s tight ass was squeezing her so tightly it was nearly painful, but that only made Ryujin get closer to cumming. “Mommy’s going to cum inside Yuna.” She moaned softly. Yuna mumbled something as she choked on Chae’s cock. The only sound to escape her was garbled as she cummed again. Ryujin drove her cock inside one final time as she joined Yuna in bliss. Yuna felt Ryujin’s cum fill her guts as she lapped at Chaeryeong’s cock. Yeji announced her climax moments later. She wanted to cum on Yuna and pulled out; Lia jerked her off, making sure Yeji covered the younger woman.

As the action slowed, Chaeryeong pulled her cock free from Yuna’s mouth, letting her breathe. Ryujin climbed out from under Yuna, her cock flopping out of the tight hole. Yuna lay on the bed, her tongue moving around her lips while her hands wandered her body, squeezing her tits and moving along her slit. She looked like a cock hungry whore to the others, and they loved it. “My mommies love me so much,” Yuna mumbled as she brought her fingers to her face and spread them out, watching the cum drip from them.

Yeji moved the hair from one side of Yuna’s face while Ryujin did the other. “Of course we do. You’re our little sugar baby.” Yeji kisses Yuna’s cheek. “We’re going to stuff you full of love.” She said while pushing her fingers inside the young woman. Yuna raised her hips and moaned in response.

“I want more cocks, Mommy,” Yuna said softly. Ryujin grabbed her limp cock offering it to Yuna.

Yeji smiled, “Let’s wait a little, Ryujin. Chaeryeoung and Lia haven’t gotten a turn with our baby yet.” Chaeryeong took her position between Yuna’s legs; she spread them apart and ran her cock along Yuna’s folds. She covered herself in Yeji’s cum as she did so. Chaeryeong slid inside Yuna with ease; she was slippery and warm. Yuna wrapped her arms around Chaeryeong, allowing herself to be lifted. Cum flowed from her gaping asshole, dripping onto the floor until Lia stuffed cock inside. Yuna whimpered as she felt herself become full once more. She could feel Lia’s tits on her back and Chaeryeong’s rubbing against hers.

Chae was the first to move, pushing her cock deeper before pulling out as Lia moved in. Whereas Ryujin and Yeji had fucked her like rabid animals, Chaeryeong and Lia were more methodical. They alternated, passing Yuna from one cock to the other. Yuna’s light moans flowed like music to the other's ears. Ryujin and Yeji were delighted to see Yuna enjoying herself. It was often she got used by everyone at once. They were erect and needed to deal with it, however. Considering they were giving Chae and Lia a chance, they chose to do some mutual masturbation. Ryujin’s hand moved quickly along Yeji’s shaft while Yeji decided to take a different path; she gripped Ryujin tightly and moved her hand slowly—each woman receiving great pleasure from it. They started to get further into it, unable to control themselves. Yeji showed her dominance, pushing Ryujin back and straddling her. Their cock rubbed against each other for a moment before Yeji adjusted her position and slammed herself down on Ryujin’s cock. It was a foreign sensation, but she loved it. She craned her neck back, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt Ryujin’s warm cock pierce her. Ryujin exploded the moment she was fully buried inside Yeji’s ass. Ryujin’s groan filled the room; she grabbed Yeji’s waist, holding her in place as she shot her load inside the formerly pristine hole. Feeling the warm cum fill her, Yeji’s cock began to twitch. She needed more. Yeji rocked back and forth on Ryujin’s cock, making the woman under her shoot more of her cum inside. It still wasn’t enough, Yeji grabbed her cock and began stroking herself as she moved. Her cock was madly twitching before she climaxed. Yeji’s cum spurted onto Ryujin’s tits.

While Ryujin and Yeji began going at it, Yuna bounced from cock to cock; she pleaded with Chaeryeong for a kiss. She was granted that request and let Chaeryeong invade her mouth. Chaeryeong and Lia enjoyed pressing their bodies against Yuna’s; the young woman had a way of drawing them in. Each thrust from them caused cum inside her to leak out. Yuna complained about losing the cum inside her ass, but she was quickly reassured about it. “Don’t worry, Yuna. We’ll replace it all and give you much more.” Chaeryeong said as she thrust back in.

“Yeah, Yuna. We’re going to be here all day.” Lia groaned as she said that; she felt Yuna tighten around her. “Are you going to cum?” She asks with a sly smile. When Yuna gave her a meek nod, her smile grew. “Cum for us. Cum on Chaeryeong’s cock.” Yuna looked to the sky and climaxed on command. Chaeryeong and Lia buried themselves inside Yuna, their cocks throbbing as they cum with her. Yuna revels in the warmth of their cum shooting into her. Lia and Chaeryeong nip at her neck as they cum. The three women move to the bedside and lay Yuna down, cum pouring out of her as they do.

They look over to see Yeji pounding away at Ryujin in missionary position. Ryujin’s cock flopping around as Yeji dominates her. Lia is the first to notice cum oozing from Yeji’s asshole. Yuna lazily whines upon seeing, complaining about her cum being given to someone else. Yeji moaned through her words, telling Yuna there was plenty for her.

#kpop smut #itzy smut #yuna smut #chaeryeong smut #ryujin smut #lia smut #yeji smut

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 1 month

Text

[prev]

For some reason, Pure Vanilla's dreams always take place in memories. The situations may be different, and the details may be blurred and absurd, built from a collection of fragmented moments spanning his life, but the locations themselves are always familiar.

That's why it is significant, glaringly so, when he finds himself somewhere he doesn't recognise.

It isn't a small room, but it feels smaller because it is hedged in by the dark shapes of bookshelves and chests. A large desk is nestled to the left, and a window sits ahead, clearly large but covered by a thick curtain. It leaves the room swarmed with shadows that seem to watch and breathe, hardly fended off by the feeble efforts of the desk's waning candelabra.

It makes viewing the room difficult. If he had his staff with him, Pure Vanilla would have cast some light, but he hasn't had it in his dreams for a while now, so he makes do with the meagre light he has. It is enough to realise that the room is a mess, the desk chair tipped over with books, scrolls, papers and quills, many of them looking like they were snapped, strewn about haphazardly. There's an inkwell on its side on the floor, spilling the abyss everywhere and soaking into the floorboards and loose paper.

The new location makes hope spark within Pure Vanilla, but it is dampened slightly by the uneasiness born from the visible disarry. "Where..?"

"This is my old study." As expected, Shadow Milk's voice swirls around the room to greet him, and a moment later, he emerges from the nothingness of the pitch-black corner, the edges of his silhouette blending into the darkness.

He doesn't look surprised or irritated at the sight of this time capsule of a room. No, his face is blank, verging on bored, as it often is when relics of his distant past crop up. It is a welcome sight, if only because Shadow Milk has a tendency of being more seriously receptive to questions when he wears that expression.

"What happened to it?" Pure Vanilla asks quietly, his voice bouncing back loud in his ears anyway. He doesn't move from where he is standing, a little wary of disrupting the mess on the floor before him.

Shadow Milk doesn't have the same hesitation, walking all over the littered documents with his arms folded leisurely behind his back. He peers down at them with a lazy gaze, but his voice and smile is light when he responds. "Oh, nothing interesting! I was just terrible at organisation, I'm sure you've noticed."

Well, being more receptive to questions doesn't mean he answers them honestly or in any kind of straightforward manner. The fact that Pure Vanilla is here already feels like enormous progress, because whether Shadow Milk made a conscious decision to meet here or not, his relative calm now must mean that he is willing for Pure Vanilla to see this, even if he isn't willing to explain its history.

Besides, Pure Vanilla isn't entirely oblivious. He has seen scenes like this before, and he can connect the dots himself.

Shadow Milk steps into the ink puddle and drags the abyssal liquid across the crumpled papers – a clearly intentional move, because he isn't bound by gravity unless he chooses to be – as he continues to scan the mess without a care in the world. He pauses at the edge of the candlelight's reach, squinting as he bends at the waist to get a closer look at a stack of bound papers.

Then, he lights up, dropping down to sit on the floor as he picks the papers up with both hands. He sits on the line between the fading candlelight and the hungry shadows, sinking back into the darkness like it is natural, but his eyes are all bright and his smile feels more genuine.

"One of my playscripts!" Shadow Milk announces, almost sounding giddy as he flicks through the pages with an air of fondness he doesn't quite manage to hide. Then, as if he can't help himself, he puffs his chest out a little and starts proudly explaining, some of his extra eyes flicking over to glance at Pure Vanilla. "I had dozens of these lying around. I never had the time to stage any of them myself, but they were extremely popular back then. That's to be expected, since I was the best wordsmith to grace Earthbread. Still am, to this day!"

In the dim, still moment that follows, stretching long and precious, Pure Vanilla doesn't see the Beast of Deceit before him. He doesn't even see the brilliant scholar, the Virtue of Knowledge, not quite.

What he sees is a Cookie, whole and complex and alive and beautiful, and his heart pangs, softly.

Pure Vanilla feels drawn to him, to the glimpse of something real and present, the current evolution of the past that lays abandoned around them, the past he has grown fond of in stolen glances, and suddenly he is moving. He carefully picks his way across the room, which isn't easy with the mess and the dark, but he manages, tiptoeing around ink and paper.

"It's their loss, to not have my genius plays anymore." Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he begins to leaf through the script more carefully, silently reading it line by line. An edge of bitterness peeks through his tone. "Nobody knows how to appreciate good artistry these days. What more can you expect from little mindless fools?"

When Pure Vanilla sinks into a kneel beside him, Shadow Milk's extra eyes all gravitate towards him inquisitively, even as his main pair continue to soak in the script. The pressure of them drapes over Pure Vanilla like a cloak as he clasps his hands together in his lap, taking a moment to mull over his own words.

"...Perhaps you should try having a more open mind." He says finally, not unkindly. Shadow Milk stops, still as a statue, before turning to face him with a concerning crack of his neck that, despite knowing his habits by now, still makes Pure Vanilla wince.

"Huh?" The sound is flat and loud, too loud for the shrinking boundary of the study, and it is obvious he is offended.

"I've been thinking about you a lot recently, and your situation." Pure Vanilla admits, something placating lacing into his voice as his attention lingers on that beloved playscript to avoid meeting Shadow Milk's sharp eyes. "Have you ever considered the possibility of your imprisonment ending amicably?"

"Huh?" Shadow Milk repeats, his voice more abrasive as his patience dwindles. He heard him perfectly fine, Pure Vanilla is sure, but he must want an elaboration.

"You seem to think the only chance for your freedom is to escape by force." Pure Vanilla explains, glancing up to take in Shadow Milk's face, his brows furrowed and mouth an unreadable line. "But I'm sure a compromise can be made to some degree. The things you have done are too severe to be settled by an apology alone, but- but if we can agree upon a system of redemption and rehabilitation, then–"

Shadow Milk cuts him off with a wild bout of laughter that rips through the study like a clap of thunder, hunching into himself as he unceremoniously drops the script. He tries to cover his too large grin with a hand, his many eyes pinning Pure Vanilla in place with the frantic look crystallised within them.

"You're joking!" Shadow Milk forces out through his stubbornly smiling teeth, voice gravelly and rattling with traces of laughter just short of hysteria. "Do you even hear yourself? No, no, you must be joking!"

"Not at all. I wouldn't joke about something like this." Pure Vanilla insists, seriousness plain on his face as he shifts to face him fully, a little concerned by the reaction. "Good punishments are meant to teach a lesson. As long as you are willing to learn from it, I don't see why your imprisonment couldn't be renegotiated."

The laughter gives way to a cold silence, and Shadow Milk's eyes narrow as he grits his teeth in a half-scowl, hand still obscuring half his face. "You're serious." He says slowly, words dripping with disdain. Then he huffs, shaking his head as his voice takes on a more playful tone. "Don't be silly, I've told you not to overthink things so much. Besides, the Witches," and here, his attempt at playfulness falters under a charged growl, "would never entertain something like that. Cowards, all of them!"

Maybe Pure Vanilla is reading into things, overthinking just like Shadow Milk accuses him of doing, but he can't help hearing a note of hurt in his voice. The fact he brought up the Witches so quickly speaks volumes by itself, and sorrow and pity bubble together in Pure Vanilla at the thought of what Shadow Milk must view as the greatest betrayal.

"...I don't think they'll mind." Pure Vanilla says after a moment of consideration, folding his hands in his lap. "The Witches rarely interfere with the lives of Cookiekind – at least, not since I was baked. Even when you broke the Seal and escaped briefly, they showed no signs of interference."

"Cowards." Shadow Milk mutters again with a tight, sardonic smile. "Afraid of reaping what they've sowed. Of course they don't dare to show their faces anymore!"

Pure Vanilla frowns slightly, but chooses not to comment, glossing past that to deliver his point. "That means the terms of your continued imprisonment solely relies on the Faeries and White Lily, now."

"Yes, yes, yes, do you think I don't know that?" Shadow Milk huffs again, waving an impatient hand as he leans back against thin air. "And? Are you going to, what, appeal our case to our great and wise Guardian?"

"Well, yes, that is the idea." Shadow Milk blinks owlishly at him as if that was a surprise, and Pure Vanilla adds sheepishly. "Not immediately, of course. There are more pressing matters at the moment, and I don't want to add more stress to her shoulders." Then, quietly, more to himself. "...She's going through enough as it is."

The look Shadow Milk gives him is complicated, far too complicated to parse in the sparse lighting. When he speaks, it is weighted with disdain and disbelief. "That's actually your plan?"

"If you're willing to consider it seriously." Pure Vanilla's reply is sterner to express his own determination, a little frustrated by the lack of cooperation, but when Shadow Milk remains visibly suspicious, he softens again and sighs.

Of course he's supicious. Nobody has tried to lend him a helping hand since his fall from grace. To be forsaken like that would make anyone somewhat jaded.

"...Remember what you told me? We are the same." Pure Vanilla begins patiently, keeping his voice calm and soothing as he shifts a little closer to him. "We just fall on opposite ends of the same spectrum. I could fall to darkness, but it is just as likely that you could return to the light."

"Yes, and didn't I tell you that was a stupid thing to say?" Shadow Milk muses mockingly, head lolling too far to one side for his neck to still be intact. And yet, he was playing along, the whole of his attention resting on Pure Vanilla with a sense of intruige. That was enough to encourage him.

"You did, but you also told me that people change, didn't you?" Pure Vanilla continues steadily, not hindered by Shadow Milk's lazy rebuttal. "I understand you meant that Cookies can change for the worse, but quantifiers always exist in pairs, so the opposite is also true. Cookies – you can change for the better."

The flickering candlelight makes the colour of Shadow Milk's face murky, accentuating his flat expression as he straightens his head back on his shoulders with a dull crunch. His eyes burn like shooting stars as he says slowly, overpronouncing each syllable, "Possibilties are never guaranteed."

"Guarantees leave no room for possibilities. Similarly, an endless imprisonment leaves no room for change and growth." Pure Vanilla argues back mildly, and in an attempt to connect with him, he finds himself reaching out for Shadow Milk's hand. He clasps it gently between both of his, pulling it closer to his own chest as Shadow Milk's expression momentarily shutters in surprise.

"You've been abandoned for a long time, and I'm sorry about that." Pure Vanilla murmurs, head leaning closer to make sure Shadow Milk can hear him as he warms his cold, dissolving hand between his palms. "You have done awful things, and you needed to be stopped, but it is cruel of them to bury you alive without any chance to redeem yourself, to condemn you to stagnation."

Shadow Milk doesn't interrupt. His eyes rest squarely on their joint hands, and he makes no attempt to pull away, despite his intial surprise. His expression betrays nothing.

"I know you reject the idea on grounds of impossibility, but I truly believe you can change for the better." Pure Vanilla smiles down at their hands, voice warm and earnest, and it is the truth. He looks up, making sure to meet Shadow Milk's bright, bright eyes to convey his sincerity. "I believe in you. More than that, I care about you."

The word comes out a little shy, but not hesitant. He is making a point – trying to show that even if Shadow Milk may feel like he has been abandoned to rot, that doesn't have to be the truth.

Shadow Milk breaks his stony silence with a click of his tongue.

"You care too much about too many things." He retorts, a taunting lilt filtering into his voice as the corners of his mouth curl upwards. "That doesn't mean much. It just makes you a fool with a bleeding heart."

"And that doesn't make any of what I say less true." Pure Vanilla replies easily, projecting confidence. He refuses to let Shadow Milk scare him off now. "I really do care about you."

He hesitates for a tense second before moving one hand to cup Shadow Milk's cheek, to show him in actions. Shadow Milk stiffens under the touch, but relaxes in the next blink, baring too many teeth in a lopsided grin that dances along Pure Vanilla's palm, still vaguely mocking.

"Really?" Shadow Milk drags the syllables out, pressing his face into Pure Vanilla's hand as his narrowed eyes never waver from him. The darkness creeps over his shoulders, the protection of the old candelabra gradually shrinking. "Why, I didn't think you could be such a flirt!"

"I mean it, wholeheartedly. You can always tell when I lie, you must know this is the truth." Pure Vanilla insists and insists, because it is all he can do, a strange desperation starting to form, now that he can imagine a peaceful solution so clearly. He grips Shadow Milk's hand tighter, but the hand on his face remains carefully gentle. "All I want to do is help you, if you'll let me."

It is important that it is a choice Shadow Milk makes, and not something forced upon him. It won't work if it is forced. Still, as Shadow Milk's eyes grow lidded, Pure Vanilla suddenly can't bear to watch anymore.

"So please," he whispers as he closes his eyes, body leaning forward with the weight of his urgency, "can I...?"

There is a beat where there is stillness, and then Shadow Milk lets out a soft laugh, barely more than a breath. Pure Vanilla feels him move forward, fingers brushing his dough as his hand falls away from his face, and then– then–

Then their lips meet, and his mind goes blank.

The kiss isn't gentle. It isn't harsh or aggressive either. It just is, and just as quickly, it isn't again.

Pure Vanilla's dough is burning when Shadow Milk pulls back, his chest warm like the bowels of the oven, his stomach swooping in pleasant and sickening loops. Overwhelmed as he is, it is horribly difficult to open his eyes, but he is compelled with a need to see his face.

Unfortunately, even when he manages to force his eyes open slightly, there isn't much to see. The candelabra is quickly going out, its retreat inviting in a darkness that Pure Vanilla cannot see anything in, let alone the details of a face. The only proof that Shadow Milk is still there at all is the feeling of his hand in his, and the familiar presence of his gaze.

"You can try," Shadow Milk answers from the darkness, a teasing smirk audible in his words, "if you really think you can convince the Guardian of something as elusive as mercy."

Pure Vanilla nods quietly, certain that Shadow Milk can still see him even if the opposite isn't true, his tongue unable to find words quick enough to answer verbally.

When he wakes up, far later than he usually does and well behind schedule, his face is still glowing with leftover heat. He presses his cheeks into the cool surface of his pillow, and feels something in him settle, satisfied.

I can save him.

[next]

#i wrote a majority of this in a mad burst of inspiration. bone apple teeth!#also there is one part left in this series after this. take that as you will :)#shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pureshadow #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

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sionisjaune · 2 months

Text

George/Alex sex shop meet cute, ft. George's questionable customer service skills and unquestionable knowledge of inventory:

Alex finds himself in the sex shop because he has decided, after great deliberation, to face up to the fact that he is a bisexual man, and his occasional hookups require more equipment than he has in his flat.

He tugs open the door which boasts a cheery little welcome sign that is quite possibly adorned with an anthropomorphized, ejaculating penis, and tries not to flinch when his eyes meet row upon row of phallic objects in glossy packaging. The bell on the door jingles as it swings shut, and Alex crams his hands in his pockets, surveying the aisles.

Choosing to get the job done quickly, Alex rocks up to the first aisle and strolls past the shelves decisively. He chooses a dildo at random and pulls the box off the rack to examine it. The packaging reads EXTRA LARGE HOG in graffiti letters with a grinning devil waving a pitchfork underneath the logo. The dildo itself is grossly fleshy in a shade that would imply that the phallus’s owner (if it had one) was suffering from jaundice.

Alex flings the dildo back on the rack, repulsed. God, maybe his own cock will have to do. He doesn’t know if he has the stomach to stay in the shop for long enough to make a purchase.

He’ll call Lily, he considers, backing away from the shelves. He’ll ask her where she bought her cute little rose thing and then order online with a hand covering his face, peeking through the cracks between his fingers. People have told him he’s good in bed, right? He wouldn’t get any less ass if his nightstand drawer remained empty of dildos and cock rings and butt plugs and whatever other horrifying—

While Alex spirals about the state of his sex life, someone down the aisle coughs.

Alex’s heart skips a beat, and he nearly springs backwards, his trainers squeaking on the floor while he regains his balance.

“You really shouldn’t buy that one,” says a pale, pinched, and actually rather fit employee standing two metres away from Alex. His hair is floppy and a rather ordinary brown, and his collared shirt is buttoned to the throat. His name tag reads George.

“Beg your pardon?” says Alex, and nearly chokes swallowing his own saliva.

“I said you really shouldn’t buy that one,” says George, sweeping a hand through his hair and frowning. “If you’re shopping for a missus, studies have shown that thermoplastic elastomers can disrupt reproductive health.”

“Missus,” says Alex, rolling the word over on his tongue. “Thermoplastic elastomer.”

George blinks owlishly. “Yes. And if you’re shopping for a mister, TPE is porous, so it’s very difficult to properly sanitize,” he explains.

Alex shakes his head. He glances at the wall of dildos in their gaudy packaging and then back at George. His lanyard seems to be patterned with the same little walking, grinning pensises that the welcome sign bore.

“What’s TPE?” says Alex, for lack of anything better to do with his mouth.

“Thermoplastic elastomers,” says George. “I just said.”

“And those are?” says Alex.

George runs a hand through his hair again and sucks in a breath. He steps towards Alex—which causes shivers to course down Alex’s spine, for some reason—and points towards the EXTRA LARGE HOG box.

“Look,” he says, pointing to the corner of the box which bears writing so small Alex can barely read it. “TPE. Not body-safe.”

“So,” says Alex, information whirling in his head. The fluorescent lighting is giving him a headache. The glare glancing off all the clear plastic packaging gives the sex shop a dream-like quality, like any second Alex will wake up erect and sweating through his covers. “So, why would it be on sale if it’s… not body-safe?”

“You see,” says George, his eyes lighting up. “Since sexual enhancers are classified as novelty items rather than therapeutic medical devices, manufacturers are able to exploit a gaping loophole and produce products for cheap using unsafe materials. For example, our top-selling Starbright Bangers—” George gestures to a display of pale, jellylike dildos of increasing length and girth. “—contain phthalates which have been shown in male animals to precipitate a greater risk of malformed penises, and—” George’s jaw snaps shut.

Alex inhales, his hands balled in his pockets, staring straight into George’s giant eyes. “You can keep going,” says Alex.

“No, I—” says George. “No. I’m done.”

“So,” says Alex. He pulls his fists from his pockets and forces his hands to hang limply at his sides. “So I’m looking for a dildo.”

“Ah,” says George, blinking again. “What kind of dildo?”

Alex swallows. “Any kind? I’m not exactly an… experienced buyer?”

“Okay,” says George, tilting his head back and forth. “Alright. Do you know what you like?”

“It’s not for me,” says Alex, quickly. “It’s just that I want to… spice things up, in the bedroom.”

“Ah,” says George, again. “So we’re looking for something versatile.” He spins to face the aisle, scanning the wall of dildos. He glances towards Alex, his dark brows furrowing. He really is rather pretty, Alex thinks. Pretty in that prim, poncy way that boarding school fantasies are supposed to be. Not that Alex has ever had any of those.

“You never did tell me whether you’re looking for a missus or mister,” says George.

“Either. Both,” says Alex, throat dry.

George hums, tapping his foot. He squats to the floor, tugging a box off the lowest shelf. “Try this,” he says, handing it up to Alex.

Alex turns the box around and squints at it meaningfully. The packaging is rather nondescript, offering a photo of the product (slim, blue, rechargeable) and the product name (SKINNY SATISFIER).

“Great,” says Alex, pinning it under his arm. “Perfect. I’ll get this. Thanks for your help.”

George unfolds from his squat, rising to a height that’s maybe just a millimetre shorter than Alex. “You don’t want anything else?” says George, making his big owl eyes again.

“I’ll just be on my way,” says Alex, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. “Thanks a bunch.”

George’s mouth opens and then closes, a bit like a fish. Then it opens again. “You should probably get an anal plug,” says George. “Very popular. And you can get them without rhinestones on the bottom, if you're worried. We have all sorts. Hold on a second.”

George dashes down the aisle while Alex remains frozen, dildo under his arm. When George returns, he’s carrying an armful of boxes. “Here,” he says. “Pick the one you like.”

Alex eyes the mountain of boxes and the product images he can see. Some of them are rather feminine. He supposes he could use them on a girl. Or on a boy of a particular persuasion.

“They’re all… body-safe?” says Alex.

George rolls his eyes. “Stainless steel. So, obviously.” He makes meaningful eyes at the heap of boxes in his arms.

“Great,” says Alex, plucking one at random off the top.

George lets out a breath and dumps the remainder on a shelf strewn with bottles of novelty lube. “I can ring you up over there, if you like.”

“Oookay,” says Alex, fisting his dildo in one hand and his butt plug in the other. He follows George up to the cash where a scary-looking girl with teased hair and a lip piercing is ringing up a complicated leather harness.

“Here you go,” says George, when he’s finished scanning Alex’s items and has presented Alex with a (thank God) plain paper shopping bag to carry them in. George plunges his hand into a jar beside the register, pulls out a handful of foil packets and drops them in Alex’s bag. “Every customer gets a free scoop of lemon sherbet flavoured prophylactics with a purchase of thirty pounds or more,” George explains.

“Brilliant,” says Alex, wondering when he’ll wake up.

George waves, his lanyard swinging against his shirt. “Shop again soon!”

#i wrote this #galex

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yoona-jnr · 2 months

Text

Don’t - Bryson Tiller

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Prompt: “If you were mine you would not get the same, if you were mine you would top everything.”

His reaction to you getting stood up by your boyfriend for the third time.

Tags: Fluff, humour, canon based plot with a slight change by the author

Baby <;3: Sorry hun, I won’t be able to make it. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time - 7:19 pm

After reading the text countless times, you find yourself sinking into a state of frustration. This was what, the third time he’s canceled on you? Ever since he started his new job he’s been supposedly “too busy” to meet up. ‘Too busy my ass, more like too busy sucking some other bitches tits.’ You wouldn’t be surprised if it was the girl you saw on his phone not too long ago.

Piece of shit.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you attempt to push away the pain that grips your heart. Questions swirl in your mind- does he not love you anymore? Was the bond you shared not as special as you thought it was? He’d always tell you that you were his everything, and that the sole purpose of his hard work was to make you happy. Had he lied about everything? Initially, it was amazing, he was amazing. However, gradually, deceit crept in, and his friends began to exert a negative influence.

From a distance, a voice calls out your name, interrupting your deep contemplation. “Wha-” You quickly straighten your posture and detach yourself from the wall, using your sleeve to wipe away any evidence of tears from your eyes. With a hint of surprise in your voice, you acknowledge his presence. “Nanami! I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you just get back from a mission?” Upon observing your appearance, he takes a brief moment to scan your face, his gaze shifting from your carefully applied makeup to the outfit you had chosen to wear.

Nanami lets out an exasperated sigh the moment he realizes what exactly happened, again. Given the stark contrast in your personalities, nobody would have anticipated the unlikely friendship that had blossomed between the two of you during your time at Jujutsu High. While he tended to keep to himself, you, on the other hand, made it your personal mission to immerse yourself in his life, initially causing him great annoyance. Your persistent efforts to befriend him bore a resemblance to Gojo’s approach, albeit in a more subdued manner, and surprisingly, you proved to be quite affable and easy to get along with.

“Again?” He asks, his voice carrying a gentle tone, yet unable to conceal the underlying annoyance that tinges his words. “Yeah..” You muttered, sighing as you adjusted your attire. “I was supposed to go on a date with him, but I bet he’s somewhere in the city fucking some bitch at his new workplace.” Nanami responds with a hum, and a tranquil silence descends upon the two of you. Although such moments of silence would typically be uncomfortable, the quietude shared between you and Nanami always manages to provide a peculiar sense of comfort.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” His voice disrupts the quiet atmosphere, causing you to react with surprise. “Wha-” – “It’d be a shame if you went home after putting this much effort into your appearance, don’t you think?” He nods towards your outfit. “..I guess, but I didn’t bring any money with me. My boyfriend was supposed t-” – “Boyfriend?” He quirks a brow, folding his arms. “As I’ve told you before (Name)-san, it’s best if you reconsider your relationship with him. Especially now.” His direct approach and candid advice catches you off guard, making your body slump forward. “You’re right. But fuck does it hurt knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit.”

With a gentle touch, he raises his hand and places a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards. The intimate gesture causes a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks, rendering you speechless. The words you had been on the verge of uttering vanish into thin air, leaving you captivated by his presence. However, as swiftly as his touch appeared, it disappeared just as quickly, his hand retreating to his side. Simultaneously, he takes a step back and turns around to lead the way. ”Dinner’s on me,” he declares, abruptly halting his steps and flashing you a look over his shoulder. “No need to worry about the price.” — It was around 9:00 pm by the time you decided to head home, Nanami being the first to offer a ride to which you happily agreed to.

As you sit in the passenger seat, you narrow your eyes at him, suspicion bubbling in your stomach. “..This isn’t the direction to my condo.” His expression remains inscrutable due to the dim lighting, and he simply shrugs in response to your questioning gaze. “Before I drop you home, I have something to show you.” Intrigued, you raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued to its fullest extent. “Oh- what is it?” Nanami shoots you a single glance, “You’ll see.” Feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation, you let out a sigh and allow your body to sink into the comfort of the car seat. You are well aware of his unwavering patience, so it wouldn’t matter if you kept asking.

Nanami doesn’t remember when he slowly started letting his guard down around you. But he does remember the very first conversation the two of you had, and it was nearly ruined by him. He wanted to be alone during his break time, but like a pest, you kept coming back regardless of the many attempts to drive you away. Your unwavering persistence shone through as you continuously visited his office with a warm smile, gradually chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.

Reflecting on this pivotal moment, he finds himself momentarily distracted from the road ahead, stealing a glance at you. Your gaze was fixed on the passing cars outside, the city lights casting a soft glow on your features, seamlessly blending with the hues of your complexion perfectly. The sight of you, so effortlessly beautiful, causes a subtle flush to creep up to the tip of his ears, a physical manifestation of the emotional impact you had on him.

Each time you stepped into his office, the sound of your voice calling out “Nanami!” would fill the room, accompanied by the aroma of the lunch you had brought to share. He never said much, but despite his lack of words, he always made a gesture to let you know that he was listening to your rambles. Even if it was a bit of a distraction from his work, though he never voiced it out loud. — Nanami gazes at his wristwatch, observing the gradual movement of the clock’s hands. The realization dawns upon him that you might not come, albeit being ten minutes behind schedule than your usual arrival time. ‘Where are you?’ Perplexed, he halts, almost losing grip of the pen he clutches. Why was he keeping track of how late you are? It’s not like he cares whether or not you show up. You are merely categorized as another bothersome, irritating individual, akin to Gojo, whom he reluctantly accommodates from time to time.

Eventually, you arrive, hands empty, no lunch in sight. ‘Ah,’ he thinks the second he notices you walking in without anything in your arms. He shouldn’t have made it a habit to rely on you for bringing food, as he hadn’t thought of bringing anything today because of it. “You won’t believe what happened.” You say as you settle on the soft couch adjacent to his desk, a piece of furniture he definitely didn’t replace because of your previous complaints about its stiffness.

He hums, redirecting his focus to the various folders spread out on his desk. In response, you interpret this as a cue to continue, leaning your face against one of the pillows. That he also definitely didn’t buy because you complained about the lack of comfort. “He stood me up last night,” you grumble, confirming his suspicions. It was only a matter of time before you mentioned him again. After all, that insufferable, undeserving, prick of a boyfriend of yours was the only reason why you’d sometimes show up late or bummed out.

“Did I not explicitly tell you to end the relationship?” He raises an eyebrow in your direction, his narrowing gaze making you look away, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead. “Um- well-,” you stammer, desperately trying to divert your attention elsewhere. “You wouldn’t mind if I take a short nap, do you?” He hums again, not bothering to question you any further. “Thanks.” You sink into the comfort of the couch, allowing your eyelids to gently close as exhaustion engulfs your body.

It’s remarkable to consider that he would eventually find someone who would feel at ease enough to sleep in his office. It’s even more astonishing when one realizes that he no longer has any reason to question any of your actions. In fact, having you around became something that was far from being a nuisance.

Nanami rises from his seat, undoing the buttons of his suit as soon as he detects the sound of your breathing. He quietly makes his way to where you lay peacefully, observing the way your hair slightly sticks to the side of your face. He doesn’t even notice the way it takes him a moment before resuming his movement, carefully draping his blazer over you. — “We’re here, close your eyes.” – “Oh, okay,” you comply, closing your eyes. The anticipation builds as the car comes to a stop in a deserted parking lot, surrounded by the peaceful ambiance of the park on the outskirts of the bustling city. He gets out, rounding the vehicle before opening your door. The soft touch of his hand enveloping yours sends a rush of warmth through your body, a gesture that is both unexpected and endearing. The simple act of holding hands, something so intimate and personal, takes on a deeper meaning in this moment. It signifies a level of closeness and connection that goes beyond words, a silent reassurance of the trust that you can undoubtedly give him as he guides you out carefully.

“You sure you’re not taking me somewhere just to kill me? Is this revenge for always disturbing you during your break?” You playfully ask, laughing as he slightly tightens the grip he has on your hand. “Oh, how I wish I could.” – “Hey-!” The warmth emanating from his body as he draws near causes you to pause, the realization of how close he was standing suddenly seeps into your head. “Pardon me.” Was the only warning he offered before lifting you up, placing you on the hood of his car as he makes room to sit beside you. “Open your eyes.”

As your eyes flutter open, your words are stolen from your lips by the breathtaking sight of stars strewn across the night sky, more than you have ever witnessed before. “You-” – “I found this spot while I was out on a drive,” he responds, his attention fixed on the celestial display before you. “I know the dinner we had might not have entirely cheered you up, but,” he turns to face you, a subtle smile spreading across his features as he notices the fascination on your face. “I hope that this view brings you some solace.”

“Solace? Are you kidding? I love it!” You chuckle, playfully tapping him on the shoulder. “And here I thought you might have actually wanted to murder me.” He gives you a look and rolls his eyes. “Let’s not make light of that.” – “About what, you killing me? You can’t lie, I have been pretty annoying. I’m surprised you haven’t told me to fuck off like how you usually do with Gojo.”

“Now that you mention it, there were times that I-” before he could continue, you swiftly cover his mouth with your hand, abruptly halting his sentence. “Okay, you don’t need to answer or you’ll hurt my feelings.” You laugh again, but your fun gets cut short by the feeling of him leaning in closer, making no motion to remove your hand from his lips.

The sensation of his breath grazing your skin causes a blush to creep up your neck. At that moment, you can’t help but notice how close he was to you. Slowly, he brings your hand down, allowing him to speak once more. “Are you planning on breaking up with him any time soon?” Without much thought, you nodded mindlessly, too focused on the fact that he was leaning in even closer. There’s no way he doesn’t notice it right-?

“Cause I must say, it’s a shame..” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on top of your knuckles. “If you were mine.. I assure you that you would never feel this way.”

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fluff #nanami fanfic

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mochidoie · 4 months

Text

CO-

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.7k genre - very slow burn, frenemy to lovers (light banter), coworkers!au, roomates!au warnings - a small kiss scene

You and Doyoung coexist in two specific ways: cohabitation and as coworkers. However, your friendship, if you can call it that, is far from besties and more on being cordial with one another. Nonetheless, in this dreary corporate world, he is the only one who just gets you and despite his coldness, he feels the same about you.

Doyoung annoyingly types on his keyboard in the cubicle next to you, completely disrupting your concentration and general workflow. Groaning, you hope that it was enough to signify how irritated you were. However, instead of the obnoxious typing coming to a halt, it intensifies tenfold and catches the attention of everyone else who sits on this floor.

Embarrassment washes over your body as you forcibly stand up and peer over the short wall that divides both of your desks. “Knock it off.” You gently smack the back of Doyoung’s head and he winces forward, looking up at you immediately with a glare.

“I’m seriously going to report you to HR one day.” He whispers, his threat just barely sounds legitimate. Doyoung is the greatest at bluffing and empty threats.

“Well today won’t be the day. You’re typing so loud that it could be a noise complaint.” Rolling your eyes, you drop back down into your seat. Smoothly swiveling your chair back to the intimidating project blown full screen on your monitor, you dread every minute of being here. Your day is full of reports, documentations, and boring project meetings.

You’ll have small talk about the weather in the break room over some watered down coffee made by a machine and happy hours on random days of the week at the nearby upscale restaurant.

You’ll run into someone from another department on the elevators and feel awkward for several floors until one of you finally gets out. Hiding in the bathroom is the only escape from the depressing gray carpet and fluorescent indoor lighting.

“You could make this a more enjoyable workplace if you didn’t sigh every three minutes.” Doyoung walks around to your cubicle, crossing his arms like the prick he always is.

“I’m sighing because you keep typing for all of the world to hear you.” You turn in your chair, facing him once again with your lips in a line. “Get out of my space.”

“I’m not in your space.” You watch as he slyly backs up from the wall, the tips of his shoes barely skimming the invisible line that crosses into your cubicle. “What is the bad mood for today?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

You despise when someone points out your attitude, it just feels completely unnecessary to bring up in conversation. However, you are normally less mean to him and Doyoung was a sensitive individual. “Rough start this morning, my bread got jammed in the toaster and flat tire on my way to work.”

“This is why I tell you to use the oven and to carpool with me. The carbon footprint we could minimize by just using one car is astronomical.” He shoves his hands into his pressed pants pockets, “I guess this is why I didn’t see your car in the lot this morning.”

“It’s in the shop. I’m out of a car for about two weeks because they found something wrong with the engine or something.”

“Just your luck.”

You groan, “are you just going to nag and pity me, or are you going to offer me a ride home?”

Doyoung puts his hands up in the air, as he often speaks with his hands. “You’re always welcome to ride with me. You just normally refuse.”

“Yeah, because it looks weird if we got into the same car together.”

He shrugs, “people already know we live together. What’s the big deal about it?”

“It’ll look like we’re … you know… Together.” You keep your voice down to a whisper, afraid for any nosy ears listening into business they aren’t a part of. Doyoung nearly throws himself forward laughing at your shifty eyes and your sheepish statement.

“Seriously? I think people can tell we’re far from ever being together.” Ouch. Not that you had any romantic interest in this vile man, but it was a bigger blow to your ego if anything.

It’s also the way Doyoung says it. It’s pure mockery, a joke that you even though there was a slim chance at the consideration of you two being together.

You shrug him off, ignoring how snobby he is being. “People make rumors. Someone who isn’t close to us can see me getting into your car and get the wrong idea.” Turning around, Doyoung takes the signal that he probably pissed you off more than he intended to.

He sighs and walks up behind your chair. Placing two hands on your shoulders, you slightly flinch at the sudden physical contact. Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” It sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t have a snarky comment to say back to him.

The sound of his shuffling disappears as he returns back to his side and resumes his typing. You aren’t excited to tackle the task in front of you, if anything, you wish Doyoung annoyed you for a bit longer.

The suffocating dullness of the office wrings any ounce of creativity out of you. You’re like a wet towel that was left too long out in the sun and now you’re all dry and crunchy.

A swoosh notification catches your eye, a new email from your manager in your inbox for you to worry about. Letting out another sigh of the day, you’re wondering what minuscule thing she needs now. The subject line already has you rolling your eyes and did you really want to open it? Not really.

FROM PATRICIA A.

HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION: HH AT 127 BAR AND RESTAURANT

Hello Team,

I hope you’re all having a productive day so far. Our VPs have organized a company happy hour for all to attend. Please refer to the infographic attached to this email for information in regards to the Halloween happy hour event that is being held next week at the 127 Bar and Restaurant.

RSVP through here by the EOD on Friday. Your attendance is highly encouraged as this will be a chance for everyone to network and chat with our VPs. Appropriate Halloween costumes are mandatory for attendance to be considered. Hope to see you all there.

Best, Patricia A. Regional Manager

“Costumes, are you fucking kidding me?” You hear Doyoung over your wall, followed by a ferocious clicking noise.

“Don’t worry, Kim. You won’t need one, you’re already scary looking as is.” Jumping up, you place your elbows on the counter of his wall and peer over him. Doyoung rolls his eyes and stands to level the eye contact.

“You might want to get one, don’t want our VPs to get too scared seeing your face.” His eyebrow raises as he watches your face contour in disgust. He scoffs, closing his laptop and putting his monitor on sleep mode. He makes his way out to the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Your nosiness gets the best of you, not that you actually cared much about Doyoung’s whereabouts.

“On my way to ask our pretty receptionist what costume she’s going in.” He smirks, making a direct line toward the elevators. Slumping back into your chair, you hover your cursor over the RSVP link. Another damn happy hour.

Doyoung whistles his way out of the elevator as it dings on the lobby level of the office. Around the corner, he is met with the office receptionist with her hair neatly framing her face and red lips curving into a smile as she greets him.

“Good afternoon Daisy, how are you today?” He rummages through the candy bowl full of mints and dental gum, despite never really caring for sweet cavity inducing treats.

Daisy leans forward on her desk with her sweet smile never leaving her pretty face. “I’m good, how are you?” She knows Doyoung as the man that would often stop by at random hours of the day for small talk and a mint. Not entirely knowing that he was mostly there to see her, she indulges in the light conversation with the nice man.

“Happy that it’s Thursday, as usual.” Doyoung tears the mint wrapper with his teeth. His forearm is placed comfortably on the counter of the desk as he leans forward chatting with Daisy.

“Friday is so close.” Daisy says excitedly, clapping her hands together in a cheery youthful manner. “Any weekend plans?”

“Probably going to see the new movie in theaters with a friend.” Truthfully, Doyoung never really has weekend plans set. He spends his weekends indoors and locked behind his door. A true mystery as to what he does behind it. “Not sure though, I’ll see how I’m feeling in the morning.”

“Yeah, I get that. I try to get out of my house during the weekend so that I’m still productive, even though all I want is to relax in bed.” She chuckles and instantly, Doyoung smiles at her relatability and honesty. Her energy is contagious, he always feels a burst whenever he speaks to her.

“Hey, I mean to ask, do you have a costume in mind for the happy hour next week?” Doyoung suckles the spicy peppermint, rocking it back and forth between each cheek. Daisy ponders for a second and he finds an opportunity to make a very bad joke. “Anything to do with flowers perhaps? Because you’re Daisy.” He laughs at his own joke and she lightly gives in to such a corny question.

“That would be funny,” she laughs, “but I’m not sure if I can attend. I let Patricia know that I’ll be attending my boyfriend’s sister’s engagement party that night.” What a glass shattering moment as Doyoung was not aware that Daisy had a boyfriend. Then again, a woman like her wouldn’t be stuck being single and moping about her sad love life like his own cubicle roommate coworker, y/n.

“Darn, we’ll miss you there then.” Doyoung finds a way to exit the conversation, knowing his heart is already breaking thinking about Daisy spending her weekends out and about with another man. The fantasy of her is ruined.

“Aw, thank you Doyoung.” Daisy reaches underneath her desk and pulls out a familiar looking earbud case, “also, are you able to hand this back to y/n? They dropped this on their way in, but they were already rushing into an elevator before I could catch them. You two are dating, right?”

Doyoung’s lips part open in shock, hearing those words come from Daisy’s mouth entice a strange feeling. His initial reaction is to deny it, clearly, but she looks at him with such awe that he doesn't know what to say. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I overheard a few people chatting about you two. I think people said you two moved in with each other after 5 months of dating.” Daisy innocently explains. “My boyfriend and I could never move in together, at least, not yet. I feel like we have to hit that two year mark before deciding to do so.”

He chuckles awkwardly, unsure what he is more surprised about: Daisy’s boyfriend or the fact that there are actual rumors that he and y/n are dating. “We’re not dating, just roommates. We’re not even really close.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I really thought you two were dating. Please don’t tell them I said anything.” Daisy covers her mouth and Doyoung accepts the earbuds.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He forces a smile, bidding a small see you later to Daisy before heading back upstairs to his boring job. The dating rumor invades every part of his thoughts as he tosses the case back and forth between his hands. He is going to murder whoever spread such a heinous lie.

“Maybe we should stagger when we leave. I’ll go first and start my car, then you come down ten minutes later, walk around the lot and then get into my car.” Doyoung nibbles on his granola bar, leaning against the sink counter. Drying your tupperware, you stare at him in confusion.

“Why such an elaborate plan to just go home?” You question.

Doyoung shakes his head at you, as if you don’t think about the potential risks lying ahead. “Like you said, people start rumors so we should be careful.”

Halting all your actions completely, you blink blankly at a nervous Doyoung. “You heard something, didn’t you?”

“When did I–”

“Doyoung, I will rip that granola bar out of your hand. What was it?”

He neatly places the wrapper back on, setting it down and crossing his arms. “There are rumors of us dating and that we moved in with each other after five months of dating, which in itself is already ridiculous. Obviously, I would wait longer than that to move in with my partner because you never really know if you’d last with that person and then, you’re stuck in an awkward living situation if you ever break up.” Doyoung huffs and puffs.

Your facial expression doesn’t change, remaining completely unamused and blank as you listen to this man aimlessly derail from the main point. “Thanks for that.” Your tongue clicks and sarcasm laces your words. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“You have to be right all the time, don’t you?” He scoffs, annoyed and grows impatient with your lack of reaction.

“Uh, with you? Most definitely.” You laugh, which Doyoung does not expect. “People are so bored here that they’ll make up the weirdest out of pocket thing about someone else. Us interacting is enough ammo for them to shoot some made up scenario.”

“How are you so unphased by this?”

You pack up your lunch boxes into your bag, “because I know none of it is true. I can barely stand you.” Pausing, you turn to face Doyoung fully. Your hand lightly pats his chest and he watches your every movement, the distance between the two of you closing in. “Like you said, let them think what they want.”

Now, it is Doyoung’s turn to remain speechless at the statement. He should really listen to his own advice.

When you were desperate for a place to live, it did come to your surprise that Doyoung came to your rescue. You two are very distant friends from college, a more accurate title would be acquaintances. Being in the same few clubs made him a familiar figure, but never anyone you personally got close to or spoke much with.

However, there was no harm in networking post-grad. If anything, it became an advantage to come from a big club with so many people aligned in the same field to gain insight into different companies, internships, and potential job offers. You landed your current adult job with the help of a few connections and chats at career fairs.

Nonetheless, the offer to move into Doyoung’s apartment was conditional. He had been laid off of his previous work and had to find a new job as soon as he could. Doyoung was able to land the job at your current company through your referral and you were approved to be a co-signer on the lease of the apartment. It felt fated to be and everything fell into its place perfectly, if only you two were compatible.

The thing with Doyoung is that he always gave off a vibe that he was stuck up and prude. You also had an impression he didn’t like you during college due to you sleeping with his friend, Jaehyun, and breaking his heart when you didn’t want a relationship with him. When you first moved in, you gave Doyoung a lot of leeway but he always treated you coldly. At some point, you had enough of it and decided that he should get a taste of his own attitude.

Nevertheless, your friendship worked better this way. You’re not entirely sure of the psychology behind it, but Doyoung seemed to communicate with you easier when you were at each other’s throats. All those enemies to lovers tropes you would read growing up were finally making sense to you.

You two did grow closer when living together, but definitely not to the point where you two were best friends. Doyoung still kept you at arm's reach and so did you. There are a lot of things about him that you didn’t know about, it was quite actually last month that you learned that Doyoung had an older brother. It was only because he had stopped by to drop off some food for him from his mom.

Doyoung is not the type to warm up to someone quickly, resembling a locked cabinet and a key that is lost somewhere. He is just waiting for the right person to find it. Due to this, you two live very separately at home. Doyoung is quick to rush into his own room and you’re often the one to wander around the living space before finding your way back to yours.

So on this random weekend, you’re wondering why there is a soft knock at your door. Kicking the blankets off of your body, you rush over to open your closed bedroom door to reveal a messy bed hair Doyoung in his bunny pajama pants.

“Hey, good….” Doyoung checks the time on his phone to be sure, lifting one eyebrow at your sleepy expression. “Evening.”

“What do you want?” You groan, ready to let the door hit him in the face. “I get enough of you at work.” You rub your eyes to rid any junk stuck on your lashes.

“Since your car is in the shop, I was wondering if you needed a ride to run any errands or to grab food. You haven’t left your room the whole day, so you must be hungry.” His eyes dart left and right, avoiding eye contact as best as he can. Doyoung looks so sheepish, like a deer caught in headlights.

You can’t help, but laugh. “Aw, are you caring for me right now?”

His face contours into complete disgust. “Not really. I just don’t want to find your dead body in the apartment and potentially get sued for negligence.”

“Well, I’m not hungry.” In that moment, your body couldn’t have had better timing. Your stomach rumbles loudly and Doyoung just blinks at you until it passes.

You both break out into laughter, “fine, what are you getting for dinner?”

“There’s a new place in town that I’ve been eyeing. A bit upscale, if you’re down.” Doyoung starts walking toward his room, eyebrow raised and waiting for your confirmation.

“You’re paying.” You close the door before he could protest. You and Doyoung have shared a few meals together, but nothing consistent. It’s not awkwardness that stops the both of you, but that there really isn’t much to chat about over a plate of food. Besides work, you two don’t share any of the same interests or the same circle of friends.

On top of that, Doyoung would never open up over a sirloin steak. He barely opens up with a bottle of wine. You’ve given up trying to interrogate him with endless questions about his personal life, he never really asks about yours anyways.

Though, meals with Doyoung aren’t entirely dreadful. His refined palate and hefty paycheck allows for you a delicious culinary experience. You’d never admit it, but eating with him was much better than eating alone.

Dressing for the occasion, you step out in an entirely new and refreshed vibe. Doyoung nearly chokes at the sight of you, not used to seeing you all dolled up and well, nicely dressed. Unintentionally, the accents of your colors match and Doyoung takes note of it, not throwing much of a fit as he usually would.

“Matching is not a bad thing.” Doyoung clears his throat, hands slipping into his pressed pants and obvious aversion to eye contact.

“Matching with you it might be.” You snicker, but loved your attire too much to change into something else for the night. Both of you head out for dinner and you catch a whiff of something vibrant as Doyoung follows into his car.

“New cologne?” The strap of the seat belt rustles in the quiet vehicle. Doyoung doesn’t say anything, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking space with ease.

There is a long moment of silence, at this point you’ve concluded that he probably completely ignored your question. However, after a few blocks, Doyoung follows up with his own inquiry, “you like it?”

Raising a brow, you’re finding his behavior quite peculiar tonight. It’s a bit unsettling and rather confusing. “I prefer your usual clean scent. This citrus doesn’t match you.”

Without a word of protest, Doyoung grins to himself at your words. Though, you’re too busy scrolling on your phone and participating in the usual silent atmosphere of the car ride.

“Have you thought of your Halloween costume for the happy hour?” Doyoung delicately cuts into his flank, twirling the piece of meat in the brown gravy that was neatly swirled on the plate.

You shrug, popping the broccolini into your mouth. There hasn’t been much thought about that email since it dropped in your inbox. If anything, you hadn’t even considered the fact that it was already October. It felt like just yesterday you were on a rooftop bar in the warm summer sunset.

“Any ideas?” You pat your hands on the cloth napkin on your lap, eyebrow raised toward Doyoung. Not that this man would give you any good ideas, you’re already settling on your last ditch effort costume you always went as during your college years.

The restaurant is incredibly fancy, way more than you had been anticipating when he had mentioned it being a little upscale. It is moderately loud inside, but nothing above light chatter and the jazz music still audible over the voices. You two had been seated right away, the hostess having starry eyes the moment she saw Doyoung walk in.

The waiters referred to you with proper titles and offered the wine of the night, placing it in its own separate small table. Anyone could have mistaken you and Doyoung for being a couple on a date, perhaps celebrating an anniversary or a nice date night.

While at any other occasion you would make it incredibly obvious that isn’t the case, the food is too immaculate for you to care. The tenderness of your meat is melt worthy and the taste of garlic butter hits your palette lovingly. You were too busy indulging in the meal before Doyoung had spoken.

“Maybe something with a mask.” Doyoung responds after a rather long thoughtful silence.

Your face deadpans, rolling your eyes at how silly it was to even ask him for a serious suggestion. “Ha! So funny.” Your sarcasm bites at his skin.

He flinches slightly at your tone, but places his fork and knife on the white table cloth. He wipes his lips with his napkin, “I’m not saying it to be mean. I meant it as a masquerade.”

“Why would I wear a mask the whole night in front of our VPs?”

Doyoung shrugs in return, “isn’t the point of Halloween pretending to be someone you’re not? Or trying to hide behind a facade?”

“That’s too philosophical. Halloween is about tricks, treats and pumpkins.” He laughs at your explanation, bringing the rim of his wine glass to his lips.

“That’s one way to view it.” He unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes wander before your mind could remind you it's Doyoung you’re gawking at. “I might go with a mask, like a masked prince of some kind.”

You laugh, “yeah, I’m sure Daisy will swoon over that.”

Doyoung doesn’t smile, instead he clears his throat uncomfortably. “She has a boyfriend and she’s not going.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that your work crush has been diminished.” You pout, quite insincerely and mockingly. Doyoung scoffs at your statement, rolling his eyes at how he’s willing to entertain this.

“It was never going to work out anyways. She thought you and I were together.” The statement nearly causes you to choke on your wine. He raises an eyebrow at the slight break in your careless reactions.

“Wow, it traveled all the way to our receptionist. That’s how you know the whole office practically knows about it.” However, he read it all wrong as you began to speak. Your nonchalant answers bring Doyoung no reassurance as he watches with a quizzical look as you eat your mashed potatoes.

“Maybe you like the thought of us being together.” Doyoung snickers. He doesn’t mean it, but he did want to shake up the atmosphere to see how playful he can get with you.

You kick his shin under the table and he lightly jumps, “calm down, prince. Don’t want the commoners to know how much of a narcissist you are.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you grumble. The mashed potato now tasted a bit sour from Doyoung’s jokes.

“C’mon, seriously? Do you actually think that I’m a narcissist?” Doyoung places a hand on his chest, as if you could be referring to anyone else. He is so dramatic, you think to yourself as you see him tap away a fake tear.

So you decide to be truthful and slightly hurtful, simply because he asked for it. “Yes, I genuinely do at times.” Your powerful tone in your words shocked Doyoung a bit, his head shaking a bit from the actual truth.

“Oh,” He clears his throat awkwardly, halting his playful demeanor. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to come off that way.” This is the first time you’ve seen him completely vulnerable in his apology. It is a sharp difference compared to his usual snarky “my bad” or “oops”.

The hurt on his face is evident, pursing his lips on the rim of his wine glass and the thoughts flooding his heavy head. A part of you feels guilty, wondering if a line had been drawn.

“Unfortunately, you’re still a likable person as people say.” You clear your throat and shift nervously in your seat. Doyoung looks up through hood eyes at your compliment, but holds back the grin that itches to form on his lips.

Something about his gaze almost makes you falter, “why did you choose such a fancy place for dinner?”

“Because I genuinely wanted to see what this place was all about. I’ve been hearing Greg from Finance brag about how he’s eaten here for the past two weekends.” Doyoung lightly taps the table with his index finger, like a habit he couldn’t grow out of.

“You let Greg of all people talk you into a $200 bill?” You can’t hold the laugh back because of how ridiculously easy Doyoung can be swayed by someone else’s opinions. “And what do you think about dinner tonight?

Doyoung may have mistaken the implication in your question — if there even was one. He halts his rhythmic tapping, sitting up to straight out his wrinkled shirt and gazing upon you right in front of him.

“Dinner was…” The bill lands on the edge of the table and Doyoung flips open the book with one flick. He breaks focus from you for a quick second to look at the final grand number on the thin piece of paper. You barely get a glimpse, as he places his card down and shuts it swiftly.

His eyes back fully on you, “most definitely worth it.” The smile on Doyoung’s face isn’t menacing or mockery, you’re completely convinced that it’s a smile meant for you. And, you’re unsure how to interpret the butterflies that flutter at the pit of your stomach.

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, you walk into work with everyone in some bizarre work appropriate costume and staring at you as if you’re the odd one out. Your costume is in your bag, which Doyoung so graciously let you leave in the trunk of his car before coming in. However, you’re wondering if it's too late to dash back outside to grab it so you fit in with everyone else.

“Good morning, y/n!” Daisy, a very chirpy and red painted smile, greets you routinely. Cute flower clips line her hair perfectly and the all green attire can only mean one thing: she is a flower. “What’s your costume?”

Laughing nervously, you’re finding a way out of this small talk. “It’s a surprise! You’ll see when we all leave for happy hour tonight.”

“I might be going before then, but please stop by if you have the time to get it on earlier.” She happily smiles, bidding you a small “have a good day!” before returning her focus back to her screen.

The elevator stops on your floor and it’s as if Jack Skellington came overnight and vomited Halloween all over the cubicles. There always has to be that one coworker who is obsessed with the holiday and they lovingly decorated the office before everyone came in. Including yours and Doyoung’s cubicle.

You’re awkwardly shuffling past your coworkers, saying small good mornings and getting weird looks. However, you’re trying very hard to not draw attention to being the only one not dressed up. A tiny baby pumpkin sits in front of your monitor and a neatly wrapped ghost cookie with your name written on a post it note awaits you.

“Good morning!” Your coworker’s head pops from over the wall and incites a startled scream from you. Of course, she’s laughing giddily at successfully scaring the living out of you.

“Hey Mariel, good morning. Did you make these?” There is no second guessing who else would be this enthusiastic about Halloween than Mariel is. She talked your ear off the day it hit October 1st about ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.

She even had a spooky countdown calendar of the days until the 31st. On top of that, she was the only one overly excited about the Halloween happy hour the moment the email hit everyone’s inbox.

“Of course. I do a baking side gig, I had to bring in a few spooky friendly treats for everyone in office!” She rests her chin on her palm and squints her eyes at you, “where’s your costume?”

Your palms immediately get sweaty. It’s like disappointing a kid on Christmas by telling them that Santa isn’t real or your mom buying you a nice and modest dress for graduation, but you accidentally stain it. The nervousness to answer creeps up your throat and before you can speak, a voice answers for you.

“Isn’t it classic of y/n to dress up as an office worker?” Doyoung stands up in his cubicle to interject himself in the conversation.

Mariel nearly loses a lung from how hard she laughs at Doyoung’s corny attempt at a joke. “It’s actually classic of the both of you to not wear your costumes to work.” She adds, wiping the tears from her crinkled eyes. “What’s next? Matching costumes?”

“Mariel, it’s a surprise.” Doyoung plays it off smoothly.

“Let me guess, Barbie and Ken?” She taps the counter, like a buzzer on a game show to lock in her answer. You’re already shaking your head and Mariel frowns.

Doyoung sighs loudly and dramatically, “I know, Mar. I’d be such a good Barbie, but y/n didn’t want to give that to me.” Oh god, he’s good.

You laugh along, stiffly. “Well, that was the end of our potential matching costumes. We went our separate ways and you’ll see mine later today.” It is enough to get Mariel off of your back about not dressing up at work. Hurrying to settle your things, Doyoung walks around to your side.

“Did you see how beautiful Daisy looked?” He muses, daydreaming about the whimsical fantasy of the office receptionist. “Must be a lucky guy.”

“She looks like a true flower.” You’re mindlessly unloading your essentials from your work bag and only half listening to Doyoung ramble. “Damn it, I left my coffee in your car.” Throwing your hands up in frustration, you’re already running late for your first meeting of the day with your supervisor.

Doyoung doesn’t wait a second to push you back into your seat, thinking you could make a quick sprint if he had handed you his keys. “I’ll get it for you. Patricia already asked about your whereabouts.” He smoothly reaches over your shoulder to grab your laptop, the usual scent of his clean cologne brushes your nostrils lightly as the distance between you closes briefly.

Your heart is pounding in your ears at the proximity, looking up at Doyoung’s long exposed neckline with his collarbones barely peeking out from his linen shirt. Under this dreary fluorescent office lighting, Doyoung looks rather dreamy.

Nonetheless, you shake off this sudden and weird daydream when he hands you your laptop and makes his merry way to get you your coffee. You’ve got to be losing your mind, the mundane suffocating atmosphere of an office space is causing you to seek any thrills. You’re being delusional. You could never have feelings for Doyoung, of all the people, never Doyoung.

You come back from your meeting to your coffee neatly placed next to your monitor on a coaster and your bag with your costume in your chair. Silently, you grab your tote and rush off to the bathroom to change before anyone could notice your appearance and sudden disappearance.

It wasn’t an extravagant costume and it was most definitely not the store bought ones from a pop-up Spirit shop. A black cat has been your go-to DIY last minute costume since college for those rendezvous frat parties or a drunk Halloween night out with your friends. Since it had to be work appropriate, a sexy black cat is out of the picture.

Smoothing the strands of your hair to adjust the cat ear headband, you give yourself small whiskers with your black eyeliner. “Here’s to Halloween.” A small grumble to yourself, you’re out of the bathroom and briskly walking between cubicles in your slightly form fitting all black attire.

Your head down and laying low, hoping that Mariel doesn’t notice your costume before you get to your own corner. Making it down the runway, Doyoung’s back is turned and completely working his life away. Somehow, your presence behind him causes a breakaway and he’s spinning around before you could hide back into your cubicle.

“Thanks, Doyoung.” A small murmur escapes, but Doyoung hears you loud and clear. He doesn’t say anything, instead, his eyes rapidly take in your figure and change of attire. The cat ears on your head cause him to blush, something he didn’t know you could do to him so easily.

“A recurring costume, I’ll admit it’s better than my mask idea.” He gestures, awkwardly clearing his throat at the weird tension that rose from his obvious gawking.

You’re puzzled, “I can’t recall a time you would’ve seen me like this.” It’s true, you two never spent a Halloween together since you had moved in with him and perhaps, those drunk college nights are too hazy for you to be too sure of yourself.

Doyoung chuckles to himself, peering down at his hands as he delightfully remembers the vivid memory of him catching a glimpse of you for the first time. “Halloween, third year. It was at the NCT yearly ‘Monster Mash’ party. I saw you briefly in the kitchen, looking through the empty bottles of liquor for a drink.”

Then it hits you! That was the night that you had arrived late to the party and almost ditched when there was no more booze left, but you encountered Jaehyun.

“That was so long ago! Wow,” your finger resting on your chin and looking back on the good ole times, “I can’t believe you remembered something like that.” Your voice grows smaller at the end of your sentence, full realization hitting you that Doyoung has known you before you had known him. He kept that memory to himself all these years.

Doyoung, also equally as shocked, feels caught in headlights. Nonetheless, something in his heart wants to open up to you and this feels like an open door opportunity. However, he isn’t sure if he is ready to ruin the dynamic the two of you share. What if he opens more than you’d take? One foot in the door, he can’t imagine this fleeting feeling would come again.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head that night.” He wholeheartedly admits and a heavy tug pulls at your heart. Your jaw drops slightly at his confession and your thoughts are running at godspeed. Doyoung’s heart is pounding in his ears.

Before you could say anything, Mariel is walking back to her cubicle and is quick to address your costume. You’re half hearing her, mind still stuck on Doyoung’s words and wondering how differently your lives would have been if Doyoung had approached you that night instead of Jaehyun. What could have been?

Rustic wooden panels cover the walls of The 127 Bar and Restaurant, giving it that upscale cabin/lodge-feel. Cobwebs lined with plastic spiders and pumpkins with ghoul expressions litter the corners of the counters. Festive Halloween music is muffled by the loud ambiance of chatter. You’re already counting down the hour of when it's socially acceptable for you to leave.

Coworkers dressed in costumes is a silly concept to you, mainly because you don’t associate anything fun with work and you definitely don’t want to see your coworkers in anything else besides their slacks and button ups. Doyoung, however, beats that exception as he walks in with a black velvet cape and fake blood dribble down his chin. His suit vest is surely something straight out of his own wardrobe and there is way too much hair gel slicked in his hair.

“A vampire fits you much better than a masked prince.” Whether it is meant as an insult or a compliment, Doyoung smiles at your comment.

“A black cat and a vampire, can we be any more cheery?” Doyoung says sarcastically, earning a small laugh as you look upon your very dark attires for the night.

Shrugging, you lightly pat his shoulder to guide him toward the VPs. “We all can’t be Daisy. She takes the cake for having optimism in this cruel corporate world. Now, let’s go get our attendance points so we can leave earlier.”

“A black cat mind reader? That elevates your costume a bit.” Doyoung smirks, leading the way to a doomful 15 minute conversation with important people.

Doyoung surprises you by how social he can get. You two normally attend the usual happy hours that your coworkers like to have after work, but that is mostly among a few that sit on your floor. This mixer included every department and Doyoung jumps conversation to the next with ease and speed, you could hardly keep up.

“Okay, social butterfly. I haven’t heard you talk so much since college club meetings.” Raising an eyebrow, you’re stopping Doyoung from approaching another coworker dressed as a skeleton.

“I haven’t seen you this quiet in a while. What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” He blinks at you with a dull expression.

Suddenly, you’re feeling self-conscious at how he noticed your silence. “Corporate happy hours aren’t my thing. I don’t particularly have interests with any of these people.”

Doyoung purses his lips, “yet you seem to talk endlessly with me and we have nothing in common.”

Clearing your throat, you’re unsure of this strange feeling in your chest. You and Doyoung have commonality in background – school, clubs, mutuals, profession – but interests seem to be way far out of scope for the two of you. While the few dinners you two would share are rather silent, it doesn’t eat you alive the same way corporate social events do. Despite the forced close proximity, you don’t know if you and Doyoung would actually be friends with each other.

“Right, but it’s different for us.” Trying to save the sinking ship seems harder to do as you rack your brain for an argument.

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, “different? How is it different?” In that moment, there is a shift in his demeanor as he tucks his hands into his pants pockets and leans back slightly on his heels. A hooded stare, eyebrow raised, and a smug smirk waits to hear how your relationship with Kim Doyoung is so different compared to your other coworkers.

Feeling small under his gaze, you’re wondering why a heat travels across your cheeks. The Halloween music and robust atmosphere are completely tuned out at this point. “We have common things to talk about besides work, like mutuals! I don’t know– you just get me. Lately, I feel like you’ve been opening up a bit more.”

Doyoung nearly beams hearing the last part of your ramble because he feels exactly the same. You just get him, despite always being at each other’s throats. He knows that this banter would not work with anyone else, it had to be you.

It’s like with each interaction, you get closer to the key in unlocking everything about him. Without your knowledge, he so badly wishes you to be the one to find it.

“Hey you two!” Greg from Finance wraps his arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, appearing rather abruptly and startling the both of you. “How was your date at Bodega 127?”

Your eyeballs nearly fall out of your socket at the word date being thrown carelessly when referring to you and Doyoung. Doyoung reacts quite nervously and is shocked as well at the odd choice of wording Greg decided to use.

“I wouldn’t call it a date...” Doyoung chuckles, exchanging anxious glances with you.

“Yeah, we’re not together.” You jump in with Doyoung at denying such a bold accusation.

“Oh, come on! There’s no need to feel embarrassed. The whole office knows already, what’s the point in trying to hide it?” Greg continues to poke the bear.

“I can see how it might come off that way, but Doyoung and I aren’t into each other like that.” Your eyes bounce between a skittish Doyoung and an overly-pushy Greg. “Right, Doyoung, you don’t like me that way?” You’re begging him with your stare, but for some reason, Doyoung hesitates long enough for you to notice.

“Uh yeah. We’re just coworkers.” He averts making eye contact with you and you’re thrown off your tracks at how off-putting he is being. You’re trying to hold back the confusion from showing on your face, but Greg takes the bait.

“Okay, I’ll stop berating you two about your relationship. But when Doyoung told me he brought you there, I will say I thought it was for a date night y’all were having. It’s that type of restaurant experience, y’know?” Greg lightly pats Doyoung on the back before walking off to chat with another group of coworkers.

You’re standing still next to Doyoung and wondering why the fuck he hesitated when you asked him such an easy question. He doesn’t look your way, gaze remains glued to the floor.

“I think we should leave now.” He says, dashing toward Patricia to let her know of your exits. A sigh escapes your body, completely confused and lost at every feeling roaming in your chest.

The drive back home is completely silent. The elephant in the room becomes bigger at every stoplight. Most of the trip is you staring out the window, trying to process the last few scenes at the happy hour. Doyoung remains focused on the drive, so much that he forgets to put music on to distract from the stiffness in the air.

When you two finally make it back up to the apartment, you’re the first to break the awkward silence. “Hey, uh– thanks for driving me around these past few days. The car shop told me that my car is ready tomorrow, so I won’t need to carpool with you anymore.”

He nods, despite the long sinking feeling of his heart reaching the bottom of his stomach. He has had so much fun with you lately being around him, he isn’t sure if he’s ready to go back to how things were — living so separately in the same place.

“Sorry about Greg.” Doyoung rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know he would say something like that.” He gently wipes off the dried fake blood on his chin.

“We’re used to it, right?” The airy, lightness in your tone puzzles Doyoung. “At least he was courageous enough to actually address it to our faces instead of contributing to the gossip in the office.”

“He’s just a big idiot.” Doyoung unties his cape and tosses it over the couch. “I shouldn’t have told him we went together.”

It somewhat offended you, “what? You don’t want to be seen with me or something?” You toss your headband onto the dining room table, fixing your hair back to its normal state.

However, Doyoung perks up at the evident tone in your voice and the scorn in your expression. “It’s not that.”

“You know, Doyoung, you have been really confusing lately.” There is a pause before you continue, wondering how you should word this without sounding so rash.

“First, you’re knocking on my door and asking me to dinner. Then, you’re getting me my coffee from the car. And, you hesitated back there when I said you didn’t like me and our conversations recently have been different, so open ended.”

Doyoung leans against the couch, arms crossed and intently listening to your speech. “Are you implying that I have feelings for you?”

He sounds so snarky that it causes your skin to crawl, frustration fuels your soul at how delusional he is making you seem. “I’m just stating the facts.”

Doyoung scoffs, arms falling back to his sides. A minute passes, but it feels nearly like forever given the silence in the room and how his eyes are glued to the ground, full of contemplation. However, not just any careless amount of contemplation, but real and genuine assessment on how he has felt over the past two weeks with you.

He opens his mouth to speak, but falls short of formulating a coherent sentence and feels a bit choked up and confused by himself. Though, you’ve been standing there and waiting for him and the silence has made you incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s a reach. There’s no possible way for you to harbor any feelings for me. We made that really clear to each other.”

You’re turning to hide back into your room, but Doyoung quickly stands at your door frame, alert and before you. “It’s not entirely a reach….” He mumbles, “I can’t say confidently that I have true and full romantic feelings toward you, but I have been seeing you in a romantic light.”

“I don’t fully understand what you mean.” Your eyebrows knit together, finding that his speech sounds too much like a riddle.

He takes a deep breath in, exhaling to calm the waking nerves in his throat. “I’m beginning to understand that some of what I feel towards you is romantic, like I don’t want to stop being around you or I want to go out of my way to do things that make your life easier.” He smirks coyly to himself, breaking the intense exchange of dialogue between the both of you briefly, “I’m an acts of service kind of guy.”

“Look, I’m saying that yes, I think I’m starting to have feelings for you. It wasn’t until recently did I feel like we’ve really gotten to spend time together after you’ve moved in.” His shoulders drop, “and I don’t know, I just– like you said, you just get me.”

This moment between the both of you is so real. There are no gimmicks, no foul play, no teasing and banter. Doyoung means every word he is saying. While a part of you wants to joke around and say something snarky, the other part of you feels serious and rather shocked at this confession.

Never in your mind did the potential of Doyung catering feelings toward you exist. And now, even more than ever, you’re actually reflecting on your own thoughts toward him. Doyoung is the first person you want to go to in a crowded room, it’s like you’re searching for him without realizing it. He’s the one you want to rely on, knowing how capable and responsible he is. Doyoung, given the chance, can really brighten up the room.

If there was anyone in this world he chose to open up to, you wanted it to be you.

“Can I kiss you?” Doyoung almost stopped himself from saying it, but he had to know. Your eyes are beyond huge at his request, the sound of thumping in your chest growing in your ears.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by this random out-of-character question. Doyoung’s cheeks are as bright red as a tomato, but he doesn’t break his intense eye contact.

“Kiss me, I want to know if my feelings are real.” He steps a bit closer with lips parted slightly, rosy cheeks, and dilated pupils. Your shaky hands slowly reach to cup his face and there the beating of your heart quickens, fast enough to where you think you could faint.

“If we kiss and neither of us feel anything, we’ll pretend it never happened.” You’re trying to cushion any chance at rejection, so that it wouldn’t end in complete disappointment from either one of you. It’s to soften the blow.

Nevertheless, Doyoung nods in your hot hands and brings your chin close with the pull of his finger. Your lips pucker and land gently on his, your eyes still wide open and you’re in utter shock that Kim Doyoung, the man you thought you’d never kiss, is now kissing you.

It’s as if fuel added to a flame, the fire in your stomach grows violently at this connection. Doyoung swears he could feel a sudden spark in his tight chest, electricity running in veins.

He pulls away and the contact between you two breaks as quick as it connected. He simply blinks at you, with a cute doe-eyed expression and red cheeks. You’re blinking back, heart in your throat and a desire to kiss him again.

“Are your feelings real?” You ask him a question you’re scared to know the answer to, worried that he didn’t feel that same fire as you did from that kiss and he’d ask to pretend it never happened.

“Real, absolutely real.” Doyoung confirms with a breathy speech. He can’t pinpoint how long these feelings have been locked away and how long he has ignored them. Nonetheless, that kiss proves so much to himself, one being that he is way more head over heels for you than he thought.

And the next course of action he chooses may ruin your current dynamic completely, but he fully and utterly wants to commit to you. He doesn’t tell you, worried that it may scare you off when he only wishes to hold you close.

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment of silence with tensions high and hearts beating fast. Both are unaware of how to proceed without making things awkward or shifting too greatly from your banterful friendship.

So, Doyoung eases in with a request so telling, but gentle enough for the two of you to agree upon. “Let me drive you to work from now on.”

Your eyes glimmer with a shine, clearing your throat before you speak. “Is this about our carbon footprint or something else?”

He chuckles, “we’re saving the Earth while I also get to spend more time getting to know you, it sounds like a win - win situation to me.”

“And the rumors?”

Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” The same shivers that ran through your body before had returned, but accompanied with butterflies dancing lovingly in your stomach.

Strange how two weeks ago, you thought that the possibility of romantically being with Doyoung was close to none and the best way to describe the two of you was that you just coexisted together. But, here you two are: standing in the middle of your shared living room with sparkling eyes for each other and a newfound excitement for a new relationship, more than just coexisting.

#nct scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenario #nct doyoung #nct 127 scenarios #nct fluff #kim doyoung #nct x reader #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader

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savorypink · 3 months

Text

hit the showers

a pest disrupts your workout.

smut.

“You like cardio?”

You pull your earbud out of your ear, annoyed, your steady stride on the treadmill slowing down with your souring mood. Alex leans over the console, his built arms crossed above the display screen. Under the lights of the campus gym, his form is more detailed, chiseled muscles straining through the cotton of his tank top—the shit-eating grin on his face seeps vanity and, unfortunately, charisma. Your anger boils where you stand (or walk; you're still on a treadmill), but part of your brain thinks he looks kissable.

“What?”

“I think you heard me, sweetheart.”

You lack the energy to roll your eyes. Instead, you pop the earbud back in your ear but keep the volume low, resuming your workout. You should hear the boy out. Maybe he’s bothering you for good this time. You shoo his arms away from the console; the display screen lights visible again. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, afraid you’d kick or kiss him if you stared too long.

“I guess. What’s it to you?”

You don’t see it, but your demeanor stuns him momentarily, leaving him confused— and hurt? It isn’t a permanent feeling; he knows how to beat you at your own game. Alex leans over the console again, his muscular forearms obstructing the view of the screen once more. You notice your stride on the treadmill becoming more powerful, now in tune with your bubbling anger.

“Play nice. Maybe you’ll get a reward.”

Alex unfolds one arm to reach for the controls on the treadmill, increasing the speed of the belt underneath you. His finger stays on the button, the same grin he approached you with smeared on his face. Your legs and feet ache with each attempt to meet the treadmill's speed, your throat and chest burning hot as you sprint. Sweat drips down your forehead, eventually soaking your body, the dampness becoming uncomfortable as you’re still in your workout jacket, a blessing to Alex as your cleavage is still in view, slick with sweat.

You hate letting him win this round, but you could get hurt if you allow him to go further. You pull the emergency lever below the console, the belt slowing down and eventually stopping. You pant rapidly with your hands on your knees, droplets of sweat staining the treadmill. Amused at your struggle, Alex saunters to the side of the treadmill, leaning sideways to get a good view of your face. You won’t give him the satisfaction of a glance.

“If you ever get bored of the treadmill, we can do plenty of cardio in my dorm. Let me know if you’re up for it.”

The smile in his voice is rage-inducing; he did himself a favor by wearing you out. If you weren’t tired, you’d swing at him.

“You’re such…a dickhead.” You pant.

He turns his heels to the weights on the other side of the gym, picking up a dumbbell before sitting on the bench.

“You love it.”

Once you control your breathing, you return to your movements on the treadmill, unzipping your jacket and tying it around your waist. The mirrors along the walls of the gym reflect you and Alex. Moments ago, you felt as if you were running a marathon, and now you look like you did, scowling at your disheveled reflection while Alex sits untouched, enamored with himself and his body as he watches himself curl.

You’re sure he’s getting stronger by the second, the muscles in his arms looking bigger each time he brings the weight to his chest. The sweat dripping down his body aids your theory, the moisture emphasizing every detail in his arms. Your heart quickens in pace as you watch him, heat pooling in your panties.

Alex catches wind of your staring, continuing to curl, but decides to do some peeking himself, watching your breasts move along with your strides. His cock stiffens as he undresses you with his eyes, his grip on the weight nearly slipping as he pictures you topless. You see the dent forming in his gym shorts through the mirror, your grin growing devilishly wide.

“Getting hard watching yourself?” You aren’t in any position to talk, but you’re determined to get him back for what he pulled earlier. “Do you wank to pictures of yourself too?”

Alex puts the weight down on the rack, his walk towards you a little awkward given the bulge in his shorts. All you could ask for now is that he trips over his feet. Alex stands beside you again, his eyes raking over your body shamelessly. Once more, you refuse to look at him.

“Hop in the shower with me, and I won’t have to,” he takes a whiff of the air and then scowls in mock disgust. “You could use it. I’ll clean you up real good, wash away that attitude.”

Your eyes stay on the mirror, your expression unreadable, the way you want it.

“I’d rather bathe in mud.”

Alex shrugs, “Suit yourself. You’re only gonna end up sweaty again.”

You smack his hand away before his hand can reach for the controls again. He pulls back, pretending to look hurt, your eyes finally meeting. “What did I say about playing nice? Be good, and I’ll reward you.”

“Being good means kissing your ass?”

“Something like that,” he grins, walking towards the locker room. “You know where to find me if you change your mind. Adjust your attitude before entering.”

You stop the treadmill and watch him walk away. Certainly, he heard the beep that indicated the machine had stopped. You step off the belt, heading towards the mirror to fix your hair, not that it would matter once you follow him into the locker room.

---

“Took you long enough.” Alex grins, opening the shower curtain wide enough for you to walk in. “This might be the best you’ve ever looked.”

You aren’t wearing anything, though you enter the shower without shame. You're more concerned with your own needs. “I’m surprised you know what a shower is.”

His large hands find your waist, guiding you underneath the shower head, admiring the water spilling down your figure. “You done being a brat? I’d like to spoil you.”

You pretend to ponder his question, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “Whatever shuts you up quicker.”

Alex shoves you against tile walls with a needy kiss. Your mouth fails to catch up with his movements, teeth often clashing, his tongue circling your mouth sloppily. You anticipated his recklessness but didn’t expect him to be this greedy. It only makes you want him more. His lips leave yours in a heap, trailing kisses and bites down your body in inconsistent patterns. When he stops at your core, he looks up at you, his swollen lips ghosting above your clit.

“Arms above your head. I don’t want no funny business.”

You roll your eyes and do what he says, making sure to spread your legs to give him access. Alex’s hand palms at your core, his hand rough, and the pads of his fingers dry from the water. He hisses at your wetness, rubbing your aching cunt from back to front, your hips moving accordingly.

“You’re soaked,” he removes his palm to lick his hand clean, savoring your juices before giving your cunt a harsh smack, your core tightening around nothing, a moan leaving your lips. “I bet this cunt is tight, yeah? I knew you’d be a dream, I’m so fucking lucky…”

Finally, his wet tongue laps at your core. Much like his kisses, his tongue is eager, exploring every part of your cunt hungrily, his tongue darting in and out of you inconsistently. Your arms begin to ache as his blissful assault continues on your cunt, your hips rutting against his face, the water from the shower head pounding your clit deliciously.

You look down at Alex, lust, and steam blurring your vision. His heavy hand fists his cock, the pace changing with however he decides to work his tongue on you, the tip beginning to leak cum. Your cunt gushes at the sight, and Alex can feel it, a groan sending shockwaves through your needy core. His free hand smacks your thigh, another wave of wetness falling on his tongue, your knees close to buckling. Before your legs can fail you, your arms do, your hands slipping into his wet hair, tugging and pulling desperately, your orgasm pooling in your belly.

You’re pleased with the amount of control you have now, using Alex’s head as a support, your hips relentless against his mouth, grinding your clit against the tip of his nose. Alex has yet to stop you, the pumping of his cock slowing, unable to predict your movements. You couldn’t care less about what he wants; this is about you. The pit in your belly is lit aflame, the high you’ve been chasing finally within reach. Before the knot in your stomach can come undone, Alex pulls his face away from you, his lips and nose wet with your slick.

“I said no funny business.”

He gets up and shuts the water off, not sparing you a passing glance as he exits the shower, wrapping his lower half in a towel. Your pride won’t let you beg him to finish; you’d only give him what he wants. Perhaps putting your ego to bed could benefit you; at least, that’s what your body tells you. You step out of the shower to stop Alex, your hand gripping his forearm. You graze his skin with your thumb, gooseflesh forming on his pale skin.

“Please…”

For the first time today, Alex’s features soften, his gaze tender as he drinks you in once more, his cock straining against the towel at your plea. His large hands cup your face, your doe eyes making his cock twitch.

“‘Please’ what?” His thumb flicks at your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth; you suck on the digit needily, your ego still preventing you from telling Alex what you need. You hope your actions are enough of an answer. Alex slides his thumb out of your mouth, cupping your chin before nudging your cheek playfully.

“Closed mouths don’t get fed,” he turns to his gym bag, pulling out his clothes. “But I know what you want. Get dressed. I’ll show you a new workout in my dorm.”

#mickey is typing…#alex turner fanfic #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #girl help i can’t stop writing abt gym scenarios!

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sunblockbabe · 4 months

Text

Bouncer!toji x reader

Headcannons

Contents: 18+!! slight references to alcohol, violence, bouncer!toji is kinda sleazy but in a fun way, mild size k!nk, makeouts, groping, and a lil grinding whoopsie daisy, reader plays innocent for a bit but is very into it trust 🤝

Bouncer!toji who, after months of being between jobs, manages to land a gig as a bouncer at some new high-end club that’s opened in the city

Bouncer!toji who’s the perfect fit for the job. He’s big and strong and mean, and the club managers are more than willing to meet his salary demands

Bouncer!toji who enjoys his job. When he's not standing around, towering over anyone and deterring any prohibited activity, he's patrolling the club, kicking out anyone too rowdy or causing any trouble

Bouncer!toji whose favorite part of the job is when some drunk asshole is being particularly disruptive. He loves roughing them up, "accidentally" punching them in the face before he's shoving them out of the club and onto the street

Bouncer!toji who's shift has him outside the main entrance tonight, boredly watching the long line of people waiting to get in

Bouncer!toji who notices you as soon as you get in line. Your glossy lips are pouty as you see how long the wait is, and you hopelessly check your phone as you see that your friends are already inside and waiting for you, your weekend shift at your job running late and keeping you from being able to uber with them to the club

Bouncer!toji who watches as you cock your hip to the side with a sigh, arms crossing in front of you as you impatiently tap your manicured nails against your phone

Bouncer!toji who knows that, if he comes across any hot girls, is instructed to let them skip the line, the managers at the club wanting as many pretty girls inside as possible to boost the club's image

Bouncer!toji who decides not to usher you inside. It's been a slow, boring shift. Getting to shamelessly stare at your gorgeous legs that are barely covered by a skirt that hits high on your thigh, drinking in how your tits heave against your top that's pulled tightly across them as you sigh again impatiently, nipples barely visible in the cold air, seems like a perfect way to kill a little time

Bouncer!toji who keeps unabashedly eye-fucking you even when you eventually notice him staring, who is barely able to see your lips curl into the faintest smirk when you realize your opportunity

Bouncer!toji who walks over to you when you bat your eyelashes and innocently wave him over to you

Bouncer!toji who gets to see how pretty you are up close, obviously looking you up and down one final time before settling his gaze on your stunning eyes, the color of them vibrant and rich against the bright glow of the club

Bouncer!toji who leans a hand against the stanchion as he comes to stand in front of you. The only thing separating you is the rope that defines the queue.

Bouncer!toji who towers over you, your head only coming up to his broad chest, and you feel caged in by his strong, scarred arm

Bouncer!toji who puts on a mocking act of professionalism when he asks what's wrong, calling you sweetheart, sending a shiver down your spine

Bouncer!toji who feigns a concerned and intrigued expression when you sweetly tell him how your friends are waiting inside for you and are oh-so worried about where you are, your phone not having any service to message them

Bouncer!toji who grins when you place your hand on his as you ask him if there's anything he can do to help you

Bouncer!toji who pretends to weigh his options when you finally ask him if you could skip the line to find your friends, he rolls his eyes around once, a low hum grumbling from his chest

Bouncer!toji who tells you to follow him, and that he'll "see what he can do"

Bouncer!toji who leads you from the line to a more isolated entrance on the side of the club in a desolate alley, you following him obediently as your heels click against the pavement

Bouncer!toji who pauses just before the lonely set of doors and turns to cage you against the brick wall, arms coming to rest on either side of your head

Bouncer!toji who takes a second to stare down the front of your top at your tits before meeting your gaze. Your pupils are already blown wide as you stare up at him, a small grin playing at your lips

Bouncer!toji who tells you that he really isn't supposed to be letting anybody in this way, no matter how pretty they are, and that he's risking his job if he lets you through

Bouncer!toji who doesn't care that you roll your eyes at his obvious lie, your grin pulling wider

Bouncer!toji who asks if you can give him something, anything, in return

Bouncer!toji who hungrily watches as you lick your lips in thought, eyes roaming to the side in consideration

Bouncer!toji who finally mirrors your grin when you suggest a kiss, voice dripping in faux-innocence that has his cock twitching in his pants

Bouncer!toji who lets you loosely place your hands on his chest as you lean up to give him teasingly chaste kiss on his scarred lips

Bouncer!toji who wraps an arm around your lower waist and tangles a hand in your hair, forcing the kiss deeper when you try to pull away

Bouncer!toji who feels you shiver again when he pulls you flush against his front, who shoves a tongue between your lips when you part them to moan

Bouncer!toji who feels you wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close as you finally drop the coy act

Bouncer!toji who presses you back against the brick wall, shoving a thigh against your legs, looking down for an instant to watch your hips jump forward at the contact, your tight little skirt riding higher up your thighs as another moan leaves your swollen lips

Bouncer!toji who shamelessly runs his hand lower to squeeze your ass, dragging you forward roughly against his thigh as he kisses you again, biting at your lips before sliding his tongue back in

Bouncer!toji who pulls you tight against his cock, a low groan leaving him when you grind his hard dick

Bouncer!toji who loosens his grip on you when you slide your hands down to gently push at his chest, pulling his lips from yours

Bouncer!toji who chuckles, chest vibrating against yours, when you whine, asking if you could see your friends now, batting your eyelashes up at him again

Bouncer!toji who says "yea, baby, you can go on in now" before he drags you in for another quick, chaste kiss, relishing the way you giggle against his lips

Bouncer!toji who pulls away from you and guides you to the side door with an arm around your waist

Bouncer!toji who taps a palm twice against your ass as he opens the door, guiding you into the club

Bouncer!toji who grins again as you turn to give him a quick wave and a happy "thank you!" before you disappear to find your friends

Bouncer!toji who has to adjust his straining cock in his pants before he returns to his shift

#toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji headcanons #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you

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oneforthemunny · 1 year

Text

some sunny day |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: eddie takes you to meet his mom. very very angst.

The first time Eddie mentioned his mother, it was just a casual comment. Innocent enough, made in passing about a small plate, decorative from the sixties that you saw at a thrift store.

“My mom used to have that,” Eddie muttered, hand tracing down the small dish. It was a neutral comment, but it was his expression, the way his eyes dropped and lips tightened. “She used to put her wedding band on it when she’d do the dishes.” His gaze was far off and distant, like he wasn’t really with you, he was back in a memory.

“It’s really pretty.” You offered with a small smile, looking at the floral details and gold, chipped trim. "She has good taste."

Eddie just nodded, putting it back on the shelf, shoving his hands in his pockets and waking away. You heart dropped. Eddie was never quiet like he was after that, distant and removed, giving small, forced grins and long stares. That was your first clue, that whatever happened between he and his mother, it wasn’t good.

Mother’s Day came around close to the end of school, but you still liked to do a little activity with the kids in your class. Thumbprint bouquets on ink pads and hand drawn stems, their slanted writing reading a little note. You displayed them on your bulletin board before they took them home for the weekend, proud and smiling at their hard work and how colorful it looked.

Eddie had stopped by, like he always did, smiling sweetly, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips since it was after hours. His eyes lingered on your bulletin board, he always enjoyed seeing what creative thing you made of it. Some teachers simply added test scores, plain and boring, a little dehumanizing for the kids like him who never scored high- never had help with his spelling words. Not you, you made sure everyone’s was displayed, proud and how it was.

His face fell his time, smile dropping around the edges when he looked at it. “Isn’t it cute?” You gushed, arms around his waist, swaying back and forth. “They were so excited to use the ink pads. It was a mess, but worth it. They loved it.”

Eddie swallowed hard, blinking at the countless scribbling of words. “Yeah...it’s cute.” He forced out, choked words that seemed to strangle him.

You pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion when you looked at him. “You ok?” You asked.

Eddie looked down at you, that same distant look back in his eyes. You frowned softly. “What’s wrong?” You asked quietly.

Eddie shook his head. “Nothin’, baby.” He sighed softly, giving you a tiny smile, but still refused to look at the board again. “I think it’s sweet.” He hesitated, teeth gritting like he wanted to say more.

You lifted your brow. “Ed, what? C’mon,” you pushed gently, hand rubbing his back sweetly. “You won’t hurt my feelings, I promise. Did I misspell something again?” You grinned, looking back over at the bulletin board, remembering the time you’d spelled out ‘Valentime’ and proudly shown him. Eddie had laughed, warm and bubbly when he pointed it out to you. You’d blushed but thanked him, saving you from the disruption of your class the next day. Fourth graders thought nothing was funnier than their teacher making a mistake.

Eddie’s lips still pursed, sighing gently. “No, you spelled everything right. It’s…it’s just…” He shook his head. “I mean, this is really sweet, but what about the kids who don’t have moms?”

Your brows furrowed softly. “What?”

Eddie shrugged, closed off and shut down, wiggling out of your grasp gently. His jaw was tight and cheeks red, nearly embarrassed. “I’m just saying, like, are you sure everyone has a mom?” He said, refusing to meet your stare, reaching in to grab the full trash out and tie it off. “Some kids don’t have moms, and shit like this… Sorry, it’s not shit, I-I just mean, these things are nice, b-but not…” He exhaled slow, shaky.

Your heart shattered, breath catching in your throat. You felt dizzy, chest heavy. Eddie shrugged, hoping you didn’t see him swipe at his running nose, hidden under a waterfall of curls. “‘M just sayin’, sometimes this can just be… hurtful. Mother’s Day isn’t always fun for everyone.”

You didn’t push or dig. You knew enough to know that whatever it was- whatever Eddie had gone through with his mother was painful. He was still hurting.

You met Wayne on your six month dating mark. Eddie had been so nervous, palms clammy and leg bouncing in pure nerves. He’d worried himself nearly sick when you went over to the trailer. Worried you snarl or judge him or worse.

You grinned when you met the older man, Eddie’s uncle who raised him. Wayne hugged you tight when you introduced yourself, holding the screen door open to let you in. He hit Eddie on the side of his head when he passed by.

“Don’t you know you open doors for ladies, boy?” Wayne gruffed when Eddie passed by. “Your Mama would be rollin’ in her grave right now if she saw that girl open her own door.”

Your heart skipped, dropping at the comment. You weren’t sure you were supposed to hear it, so you pretended you didn’t-for Eddie’s sake. Scanning the pictures on the walls instead, most of Eddie, the same curly haired boy throughout the year. Wayne had his high school diploma displayed proudly, all three senior year photos next to them. You cooed at them, finger tracing over the school photos, a snaggletoothed, curly headed boy with bright, brown eyes in a slightly worn t-shirt. It made your heart ache, turning and squeezing with that uncomfortable crushing pressure.

Eddie showed you his old room, watching you smirk when you held up a dirty magazine, wedged under the old mattress. You lifted a brow playfully while Eddie blushed hard, a deep red that had you giggling.

“Those are from high school, I swear.” Eddie stammered, holding his hands up.

You lifted a brow, eyes skimming the cover. “Hottest Centerfolds of 1989?” You challenged.

Eddie’s blush deepened, running a hand down his face. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

Wayne had brought you to the common area of the park, the July air hot with a slight breeze. He’d fired up the grill anyways, making Eddie flip the hotdogs while the two of you chatted on the wooden picnic table behind him.

He wiped his brow, bangs matted and sweaty against his forehead. You stood, black hair tie on your wrist, pulling it off and handing it to Eddie. "Here, honey," You cooed sweetly, passing him the band. Eddie blushed, thanking you quietly when he pulled his hair back in a low bun, sweat trickling down his neck.

"Good call," Wayne grinned, winking playfully at you. "No one wants all that hair in their hot dogs anyways."

You giggled, looking over at Eddie with a sweet, playful smile. Eddie scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes. "At least I still have hair, old man." He jested.

Wayne barked out a laugh. "You better be glad you got your Mama's hair, otherwise you'd be bald like me."

Your heart thumped hard in your chest, palms sweating and not just because of the heat. You saw how Eddie's shoulder's tensed at the mention. Wayne chattered on while Eddie grilled, asking you about your own home life- where you were from, what your folks did, all nice and polite chatter.

You'd passed a photo hanging on the wall before you'd left. A woman with familiar unruly curls, clipped back but blowing in the wind. She sat on a hill, daffodils and tulip in flower beds around her, a small blanket on the ground. She held a baby with the same tuft of curls, chubby cheeks with dimples, and round, brown doe eyes. You knew it was Eddie immediately, smiling at the photo. He was adorable, so similar in some of his features. Your eyes lingered on the photo a bit too long, Wayne catching you.

He stood by you, exhaling slowly. "He looks like her, don't he?" Wayne smiled, sad. "I always told Viola that boy was her twin. Told Ed that too, but..." Wayne didn't finish his sentence, letting it linger in the air between the two of you.

You bit your lip, stopping yourself from asking what you wanted to, the question that rattled around your brain, shaking you from the inside out: what happened to her? No, it wasn't for you to ask. You wouldn't overstep like that. You'd respect Eddie and his decision to tell you when he was ready.

That day didn't come until much later. A cold, rainy day in March, when the winds were whipping and unforgiving, the sky cloudy and gloomy, the perfect bad day. You'd noticed Eddie didn't stop by your classroom that morning, no apple or sweet note. You assumed he'd slept in, the drizzle of the rain always made him so sleepy, snoring heavy and hard. By lunch time, Eddie still wasn't there, didn't join you and Steve in the break room, and you noticed the janitor's closet was still locked.

You climbed the steps to his apartment, a small one bedroom one bath next to the park, knocking on the chipped paint of the green door softly. No one answered. You furrowed your brows, craning your neck towards the parking lot. You could see the van in it's usual spot, the small orange tinted glow from his lamp inside.

You fished your key out of your bag, turning it in the lock softly before letting yourself in. Your stomach turned, a deep and sinking feeling settled in the pit of your tummy. "Ed?" You called softly, shutting the door behind you. "Eddie, it's me. Are you sick, baby?"

No response.

Your shoulders tensed, swallowing the growing lump in your throat, eyes scanning the room. "I tried to call, but..." A muffled yelp, nearly in pain, low and groaning from down the hall startled you.

You padded down the hall, hearing another small clamber from behind the closed door. You knocked gently again. "Eddie, are you alright?"

"Go away." Eddie barked, strained and shaky voice seeping through the door.

You flinched in shock softly, his voice so hard and cold, but mostly hurt. It worried you. "Eddie, please can I come in?" You asked softly, pressing your ear to the door. "If you're sick, I can go get you some medicine, baby. Or I can take you to the doctor if you-"

"No, just-just go!" Eddie yelled, a choked sob following, strangled and bitter.

Your eyes widened, hand turning the knob reactively before you could even comprehend what you were doing. Your breath hitched, heart stopping when you looked in the room. Eddie was lying on the bed, crumpled into the mess of bed sheets. His pillow was a deep blue, tear stained and wet. He clutched a photo in his hands, protective and angry, white knuckled and trembling. His eyes were red as was his nose, blood shot and raw from the tears running down his cheeks.

"I said get out!" Eddie sobbed, turning away from you entirely when you came in. His shoulders shook heavy, rattling with the aftershocks of sobs. "Get out! Go!"

"Eddie," You breathed cautiously, voice even and calm. You held your hand out, approaching him slowly, like a frightened animal, despite the rapid fluttering in your chest.

"No, leave!" Eddie cried, breath hitching and shuddering in his chest. He heaved deep and fast, furiously wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist. "I don't-don't want you to see me-e."

"Eddie, are you ok?" You asked calmly, hand hesitating to touch him. "Do you need me to call someone or-or get you-"

"No," Eddie sobbed, face crumbling. "You can't get me who I want, who I need." He sucked in a breath, pitiful and trembling at the admission. His voice was hoarse with tears.

"Yes, I can, baby. I can. Just tell me who you want, and I'll call them, ok? I'll-"

"You can't call her." Eddie's brown eyes, red rimmed. His shoulder's dropped, lip quivering, snot streaming down his nose. "You can't call her, because she's fuckin' dead. She's dead."

Your heart shattered, hands reaching out to stroke his shoulders, unsure and desperate to comfort him. Your eyes flickered down to the photo, the familiar curly hair- Viola.

Your breath caught, eyes meeting Eddie's, melting sympathetically. "Oh, Eddie," You whispered, stroking his cheek gently. You wished you could say more, do more, knowing nothing could soothe this aching he felt, but wishing you had the right words to help. Instead, your tongue felt large and swollen, choking your words and leaving your breathless and speechless.

Eddie's face crumbled, eyes squeezing and lips pressing together to try and keep the sob from escaping. You pulled him close, hugging him tight to you while he cried. Your hand raking through his hair, soothing and soft coos while he sobbed, heart-wrenching and pitiful.

Your blouse was damp, pressed against your skin when Eddie's breath finally steadied, that same distant glaze over his red-rimmed eyes. You kept him pressed close to you, tight to your chest, hand stroking his curls, peppering kisses to the crown of his head. You hated that you didn't know what to say, how to comfort him to make it better. There was nothing to make this better. What did you say to a grieving son who only wanted his mother?

Eddie told you then about her.

About how she always cared for him, about how she taught him to play guitar, how she taught him to hide when his dad came home angry and drunk. His eyes squeezed shut when he mentioned him, fists balling tight in his hands. You could feel his heart racing, picking back up and breathing ragged.

He told you about how she died, seventeen years ago that day. You tried to swallow back the burning ache in your chest, breathing deep to keep your own tears in. It wasn't about you, you couldn't cry, but how could you not? With the things Eddie was telling you. Horrifying, traumatizing things that he went through as a child; that he still faced today.

You stayed with him through the night, not because he asked but because you knew he needed it. He had never been so thankful for you. How gentle you were with him, not judging and reassuring when he got embarrassed by his emotions. He fell asleep that night practically on top of you, head buried in your torso, long limbs crowded all around you. You didn't mind.

The next morning, Eddie woke up frantic, mumbled apologies and racing thoughts that you quieted and soothed. You could tell her was embarrassed. He never needed to be with you.

Eddie rocked on his heels, fidgeting for a moment like he did when he was anxious. "I-I think I'd like to go see her today." Eddie mumbled, refusing to look up at you.

You nodded slowly. "I think that's a great idea, Ed." You smiled softly towards him, resting your own hand on top of his.

Eddie grabbed your hand tightly, fingers intertwining through yours. "Do you think... Do you think you could maybe come with me?" He asked, eyes rounding hopefully when he looked up at you. You melted, heart swelling so tight you thought you might burst. You wanted to tell him you'd walk through the firing line for him if he asked.

"I-It's ok if you can't. Fuck, that's a lot to ask, 'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have asked that, that's-shit, I can go by myself-" Eddie rumbled, eyes pinching closed, pulling his hand out of your grasp quickly.

"Eddie," You grabbed his hand softly again, squeezing it lightly. "I'll go with you. If you want me to go, I'll go with you. If you want me to drive you and sit in the car, I can do that to. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do. Don't apologize for asking."

Eddie hesitated, eyes frantically scanning your features. He'd grown used to putting other people first, making sure they were happy and content before he was. That they were genuine.

"Are you sure?" He asked weakly, lips pulling tight in a hopeful grimace. You wanted to squeeze him tight to you, hold him until he knew it would be alright; until it was all better.

Instead, you smiled, pressing a light kiss to his dimpled cheek. You pushed a curly tendril behind his ear. "I promise. I would love to meet your mother." You smiled, wide and warm, it made his heart lurch in his chest. His hand squeezed yours, eyes watering all over again.

You stopped by the florist before you went to the cemetery. Eddie hadn't asked you to, but you wanted to. "I can't show up empty handed to meet your mom." You smiled softly towards him.

Eddie took a long, deep, cleansing breath at that, following you in to the shop. You looked around, the aroma of the shop was heavenly, floral and powdery. Eddie relaxed softly.

"What kind of flowers did she like?" You asked gently, looking at the different ones in vases of water, behind cooling glasses to keep them fresh.

"Not roses," Eddie muttered, shaking his head at the various shades of roses they had in water. "Hated them."

You smiled softly. "Ok, no roses." You nodded, moving down the case.

"She liked those," Eddie pointed to the big, pink flowers that sat in a vase; peonies. "She used to grow them. Would cut them and put them on the dinner table to cover the scratch when people came over."

You squeezed his hand lightly, requesting two bouquets from the florist. You paid them before Eddie could, ignoring his protests when you took them to the car, laying them delicately in the back seat so they wouldn't get smushed. Eddie didn't tell you, but it meant the world. Seeing how careful you were, how caring you were to him. Watching your hands shake, a little jittery- nervous to meet his mother. Like she was still physically there, and it wasn't just a tomb.

"Do you want me to stay in the car?" You asked, parked on the curb in the empty cemetery.

Eddie shook his head softly, eyes trained on the rows ahead of him. "I-I think I'd like you to come with me." He said, looking over at you carefully. "I want you to meet her."

You smiled, bright back at him. His heart fluttered.

He lead you through the rows of graves, stopping to point out his grandparents, great-grandparents, before he found hers. The headstone was small, a little worn with weather. Viola Luella Jones-Munson - Beloved Daughter, Sister, Wife, and Mother.

Eddie's legs shook when he kneeled down, gripping the bouquet so tight he was sure the stems would break. "Hi, Mom," He whispered, voice cracking in his throat. "I-I'm sorry I haven't been by in a while..."

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a cry of your own. Watching Eddie push the leaves off the headstone, fingers lingering to trace over the etched letters of her name quietly.

"I brought someone to meet you." Eddie whispered, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Hi, Mrs. Munson," You smiled softly. "It's nice to finally meet you." You knelt down next to Eddie, on the soft grass.

"W-We've been dating for a while, Mom. I wanted her to meet you." Eddie breathed, his hand reaching out for yours, squeezing it tightly.

You ran your thumb over his hand, soothing. "Your son is great." You smiled, affectionately looking over at Eddie. "The best. You did an amazing job with him. You should be very proud." Eddie felt his chest swell, throat burning with the threat of tears again.

"He's kind, and funny, and creative, and so, so good to me. A gentleman." You continued, leaning your head softly against his shoulder.

The breeze blew through the trees, wind chimes on the graves tingling to life, while the two of you kneeled in silence.

"Do you think I could have a moment?" Eddie asked after a while, head leaning on top of yours, hand still intertwined. "Just a little bit alone?"

You looked up at him, pressing your lips to his softly, just barely brushing his. He relaxed into your touch, letting you kiss him sweet and gentle. "Take as much time as you need, Eddie. I'll go wait by the car."

You placed the bouquet in front of the headstone, swiping the top off carefully of any fallen blooms from the trees. "It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Munson." You whispered, before standing up. You squeezed Eddie's shoulder gently, padding back through the grass towards the car.

Eddie was still for a while. Listening, watching, distant and wrapped up in his own memories. He sighed softly, sitting down on the ground fully.

"She's great, isn't she?" Eddie whispered, smiling softly at the headstone. "I told you when I met the right one I'd bring them to meet you, and-and..." Eddie looked over his shoulder, back towards your car. "She's the one."

Eddie took a deep breath. "She met Wayne a while ago, back in July. He loves her. Told me I better take care of her." Eddie snorted softly. "I do, by the way. Well, I try to as much as I can... She takes care of me, too. Real good, Mom."

Eddie could feel the tears coming, pricking and threatening to spill out the corners of his eyes. "I-I wish you could meet her, Mom." Eddie's lip wobbled, voice cracking at the admission. "God, you'd love her. You two would get along so well, and-and-" Eddie sobbed, broken and spilling out of his chest.

"I miss you." Eddie whispered, tears falling down his cheeks.

He felt like the same eleven year old boy he was years before, kneeling in the freshly laid dirt by her grave, begging and pleading for anyone to bring her back. Screaming and furious that she was taken instead of his dad, instead of him.

"I wish you were here, Mom." Eddie sniffed hard, choking on his own tears. "I really miss you."

Eddie stayed there for a while. His brain screamed at him to get up, but he couldn't. He just wanted a little more time. He knew you wouldn't mind.

He placed a kiss to the headstone, resting his forehead against it until he calmed, chest still heavy and aching, but breathing steady. Eddie placed the peonies next to yours, pretty and bright against the headstone. He knew she'd love them.

When he said goodbye to her, a small, broken whisper into the headstone, he liked to think wherever she was that she heard him. That she sent down the small breeze that wrapped around him, through his hair and through the trees as a sign that she was still with him.

Eddie hugged you for a long time before you got back in the car, tight and desperate, like you might disappear if he didn't. You ran your hand soothingly down his back, letting him bury his nose in your hair, your scent grounding him and keeping his threatening tears at bay.

The ride home was silent, comfortable. Eddie looked out the window, exhausted and drained after the day. His hand held yours over the center console, your thumb still rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles. He didn't tell you that his mom used to do that. He didn't tell you that was the reason the act was so soothing to him, not then anyways. He didn't tell you that you reminded him of her in the best ways. He didn't tell you that he'd never brought anyone, anyone to see her grave. He didn't tell you how much it meant to him that you spoke to her, that you were kind and sweet and genuine to her. He figured you knew.

What he did tell you was how much he loved you. How much he loved you and loved you and loved you and loved you.

And how much his mom would've loved you too. How much she did love you, wherever she was.

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