#just remember you're more than a definition you give yourself or others give you

[yuri-is-online]

And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (24/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Furniture shopping is more exciting when there's talks about buying new stuff - like a bed.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet

Word Count: 3.4k

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A/N: hello loves! part twenty-four is here and I hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!!!

The fact that Kika is just lying on your bed instead of snuggling up completely in your fluffy blanket is a miracle. 

"I liked the light blue mom jeans best," she says as you stand in front of the large mirror leaning against the wall next to the door to your room and look at yourself. "With the white oversized turtleneck - smash."

You look at her through the mirror. "Haha."

"I'm serious." She leans on her elbows and tilts her head. "If you wear white sneakers with it, it'll even work with the sandwich method. I've seen it on TikTok. And I swear to you - people will turn their heads to look at you."

"I don't want people turning their heads at me," you confess quietly, adjusting the soft fabric of your top. "I just want to look halfway okay."

"Trust me. You look more than okay."

After Kika and Pierre have stormed your apartment with their spare key - which at first annoyed you, but in the next moment made you feel quite relieved - your girlfriend has taken it upon herself to unpack your suitcase and pick out an outfit for you that matches your trip to the furniture store.

Unpacking your suitcase simply consisted of pulling out one item at a time and tossing it aside if it didn't meet her expectations. The pile of clothes next to the bed is the result of her search.

" Let it go," she warns you as you adjust the position of the hem of the sweater on your shoulder. "You look good. When I think about my first outfit as Pierre's girlfriend - it was pure horror."

"But I'm not a girlfriend," you reply as you reach for the jeans Kika is holding out to you. "I'm his friend. His roommate. Nothing more," you exhale, "and nothing less."

The Portugese woman watches you slip into your pants. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Caught off guard, you look at her. Are your feelings for the Monegasque so obvious that she can even see it on your face? Is your affection written all over your forehead? You can't name your emotional state, you can't say a word that could even begin to describe what you feel for Charles - but there's no question that it's definitely something other than pure friendship. 

No matter how often and vehemently you try to convince yourself that Charles is your friend, you are an incredibly bad liar. 

"I remember being incredibly nervous the first time we went out in public. I think I changed outfits three or four times before I was halfway happy."

Oh.

You sit down on the edge of the bed with her. "I want all of this. I want him." You clear your throat as Kika gives you a meaningful look. "His friendship, that is. And I'm also willing to take the risk of people not liking me and talking badly about me." You clasp your hands in your lap.

Kika sits up straight. "But?"

You curl your lips into a thin line. "I - I don't know." How do you explain to her that you're worried that his fans could dislike you so much that they doubt Charles? You're going public as friends, something that bothers you a little more than it should. But the Monegasque has also said that people will think what they want. 

What if they hate you so much - your looks, your mediocrity, your being - that Charles catches on and he realizes they're right in their opinion?

"I just want to make a good impression."

Your friend reaches for your hand. "You will. And after all, you're just friends. The public's opinion isn't all that important." You don't see her look, which says so much more than what she actually says.

"Right."

Kika lets go of your hand and stands up from the bed. "I'll be with you the whole time. We'll work it out. I promise." She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "So, let's get going. This room is pretty bleak and could use some color," she says before pulling you off the bed and out of the room.

As you slip into your shoes at the front door, the men join you.

"So, Pierre and I are sitting -" Charles begins, but suddenly stops when he sees you. His eyes wander over your body and goose bumps spread along their path. He remains silent until Pierre nudges him. "Uhm, sorry. Yes. We - um - we're both going to sit in the front of the car because -" He scratches the back of his neck nervously, but can't take his eyes off you. "The plan is for Kika and you to go through the furniture store together and Pierre is coming with me. Just so that we are seen together as little as possible, but are still out and about together," he explains. 

You understand why this is all going to happen. He wants to protect you and you want to let him, but you can't stop your heart from getting a little bruised. 

When Kika notices your offended look, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "So much planning for simple shopping with friends? Is that really necessary?"

As you look up from your shoes, you look straight into Charles' beautiful green eyes. Something that looks exactly like how you feel flickers across his face. "It is." He stands up straight. "Shall we?"

Kika smiles gently at you. "Let's liven this place up a bit, then." She grabs Pierre's hand and together the two of them walk out of the apartment towards the elevator, while Charles and you stay behind. You both look after them. 

"Is everything all right?" asks the Monegasque and stands next to you. 

"Everything's fine," you answer him curtly. You don't dare look at him. 

"Y/N," he says as he gently grasps your wrist and turns you towards him. "Mon amour, you know why I'm doing this, don't you?" His hand slips a little lower so your fingers can intertwine.

"'Mh-hmm." 

"Hey." His other hand rests gently against your cheek, making you look at him. "Hey." His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. "I'm trying to protect you. That's my priority. Making sure you're okay is my priority. And if that means we can't walk through any stores next to each other for now, just so the public can get used to you, then I'll put up with it." His gaze twitches briefly to your mouth. "Even if it's not what I want."

You nuzzle your face against his warm hand. "And what do you want?" you ask softly. 

"You." 

His answer makes the blood sizzle in your veins. It feels as if the warmth of his skin is burning through your face, as if the nerve endings under your skin are sending little electric shocks through your muscles and forcing your heart to stop. You take a deep breath.

"I want you near me." He squeezes your hand twice before pulling away. Your skin feels cooler without his touch. "But I'm responsible for what happens in public. And I don't want to risk anything happening to you because of me."

You nod weakly before wordlessly following the befriended couple. You hear Charles behind you, but you don't wait for him as you walk quickly to the others. The atmosphere in the elevator is tense as you are transported towards the underground garage, but no one tries to ease the tension. Kika and Pierre look at each other a little uncertainly, something that doesn't escape your gaze, and you can't blame them. The situation is just awful.

Pierre has thought far ahead, because when he presses a button on his car key, a large SUV opens up in the underground parking garage, sure to fit some decorative items. Charles' Ferrari, or God forbid your old Renault, might have been able to fit a picture frame, or at most a small mirror. 

You sit behind Charles, who has taken a seat in the passenger seat. Kika and Pierre are talking through the rear-view mirror while you look out of the window.

The longer you think about what Charles said - or didn't say - the more uncomfortable you feel. The hem of the sweater seems to have slipped, the collar feels too tight and the sleeves are scratching your elbows. You're not sure what you were hoping for, what the right answer would have been. But you're not particularly happy with the one you got. 

You also want to be close to him, permanently. And you can also understand why the plan involves you staying away from each other inside the furniture store. But is that really necessary if you're just friends? Has he done something similar with his other female friends, or are you the only one who has to put up with this fuss? 

Your thoughts are going round and round in your head, but as if by magic they suddenly come to a standstill. But it's not magic, it's Charles' hand that has squeezed past his seat on the right and is now gripping your leg. You feel his fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, where they rest against your calf. 

You try to regulate your breathing, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears. Charles touching you is nothing new. You've been touching each other non-stop since last night, which doesn't help your feelings or your friendship, but it still feels indescribably good. 

It feels right the way his calloused hand wraps around your soft calf. It felt right the way his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt right to lie half-naked next to him in bed. 

It felt right to want him as something more. More than a roommate. More than a friend. 

And that's exactly why you slide your foot towards the car door, so that Charles can touch you more easily. You block out the voice that keeps whispering hypocrite to you as best you can. And the warmer his skin feels on yours, the tighter his fingers close around your calf, the better it works. 

"I'll let you both out right at the entrance and we'll park in the back of the parking lot," Pierre interrupts your thoughts before they're no longer PG. "You can go inside and we'll follow. That's the easiest way."

"Thank you very much," Charles says. "I'm sorry we're shamelessly taking advantage of you."

Pierre has to grin. "You're welcome to give me a position in Bahrain, then we'd be even."

"You'd have to get close to me on the track first."

The two men argue amicably until the car comes to a halt in front of the deserted entrance. Just as you are about to open the door, Charles's fingers gently squeeze your leg twice and you have to suppress a smile, otherwise Kika would tease you endlessly. As you both get out and the car drives away, she latches on to you. 

"Are you ready?" she asks as you walk towards the glass door together. 

"Definitely."

Kika has very good taste in decorating and if she hadn't become a model, she could definitely have worked at Ikea putting together those fake rooms. As you push a shopping cart in front of you, she skips through the aisles, grabbing anything that matches in color or style. Picture frames, vases, mirrors and fake plants that would look good on the windowsill in your room. 

She's examining which of the candles in front of her would go better with the vases in the shopping cart when your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. 

Charles: If one of the candles burns down our apartment, I'll have to charge you rent. 

Confused, you read the message before looking up and around. Charles is standing about twenty meters away from you, smiling at you over the shelves. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You: You don't need my money, Mr. Ferrari. After all, you make millions a year. 

You raise an eyebrow challengingly as Charles reads your message. You can see his grin clearly, even from this distance. 

Charles: If you burn down my expensive apartment, I'll have to find a new one, and they're not exactly cheap in Monaco, as you know. 

You: I thought it was our apartment?

Charles: If you let it burn down, you're welcome to keep it.

You: So you'd let me keep it? Our apartment?

Charles: I'd give you anything, mon amour. You just have to ask for it. 

You don't have time to think about his answer because Kika throws a stuffed animal dinosaur in your face. 

"Are you done flirting?" she asks, playing annoyed. "I'm trying to decorate your room and you'd rather flirt than help me."

You feel the blood rush to your face. "Excuse me?"

Her grin almost reaches your ears. "Gotcha."

"You can't possibly have caught me doing something I wasn't doing," you try to wriggle out of it, but Kika has bitten down like a little terrier.

"And why are you looking like you've eaten the last spoonful of tiramisu without asking if anyone else wants the rest?" 

"I haven't eaten any tiramisu," you defend yourself and hug the green stuffed animal tightly to your chest. 

"Not yet," she says gently and puts one of the candles in the cart with the rest. "But I'm afraid you could get diabetic if you're not careful with the tiramisu. A small piece is fine, but a double portion could almost be too much." 

You narrow your eyes. "I haven't eaten any tiramisu." Without taking your eyes off her, you put the green dino in the shopping cart too. "And I don't intend to."

"You're a bad liar," she says and stands next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "But that's all right. I still love you. And when your room looks really cool soon, I'll take the outfit pictures for my Instagram in front of your mirror."

She gives you a peck on the cheek and you roll your eyes. "Charles was right. We need to change the locks, then you can't disturb us anymore."

"Disturb? Disturbing what? Eating tiramisu?" she grins and you would have loved to suffocate her with the green dino. Apparently Kika can read minds, because she quickly lets go of your arms and continues to skip happily through the corridors while you follow her with the shopping cart. 

"How much do you think the things you picked out for me cost?" you ask her as she picks out more plants.

She takes a look at the shopping cart. "Something between two hundred and five hundred euros," she replies with a shrug.

"Kika, that's too much. Way too much," you try to stop her as she walks over to the rugs on display. "I can't pay for it. I'm unemployed, remember?" You're about to turn the shopping cart around and return the selected items to their rightful places, but Kika stands in your way. 

"Charles offered to pay for this," she says, confused, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the metal grille of the cart. 

"He what?" you ask, looking around in the hope of spotting Charles somewhere. But he's nowhere to be seen.

"Pierre sent me a text message to leave the car at the checkouts when we're done. He said that Charles wanted to pay for it and that we should wait outside for them," she explains, tilting her head. "I thought he would have told you. I know you're unemployed, but because of the text message, I thought that - I assumed we could just pick out nice items without looking at the price."

You run your tongue over your teeth. "Give me a moment, please," you say briefly and leave her standing there with the shopping cart. 

You walk through every aisle, looking over every shelf in the hope of seeing Charles standing somewhere. And when, after ten minutes, you spot his brown curls in the furthest corner of the store, you don't care if the two of you are seen together. He's standing in front of a gray, hip-high box spring, with nice, dark bedding and comfortable-looking pillows placed on it. When you stop next to him, he doesn't look at you.

"I want to buy a new bed," he begins the conversation. "The one I have now is too low for me. What do you think of this one? I've tried it out. It's really comfortable and the perfect height for -" He falls silent before he can finish the sentence. 

"Kika says you want to pay for my things," you change the subject without answering his question. You don't take your eyes off the bed either. 

"That's correct."

"I don't want that," you say tersely. "I don't want you to pay for it."

"But I want to," he replies, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Think of it as a gift."

"As a gift?" You raise an eyebrow. "As a gift for what?"

"For your friendship."

"You can have my friendship without buying me new things," you assure him, but you fall on deaf ears. 

"But I want to. I have so much money that I can't spend on my own, so I want to buy you nice things." He leans a little towards you so that your hands touch. "How expensive are the things? One thousand, two thousand euros?"

"Kika says five hundred at most."

"Then think of it as a small, early Christmas present," he says gently. Before you can object, he continues. "I want you to feel comfortable and if it costs me some money, then so be it. And it won't hurt my bank account in the slightest. So just say thank you and accept the gift."

"Thank you," you whisper reluctantly, but you know that it wouldn't do any good to go against his wishes. "Did you find something you want to buy?"

He smiles. "This bed, apparently. And bedding. And a mirror."

"Doesn't sound bad. I just hope you have as good a taste as Kika. After all, our things have to match," you joke.

Charles turns his head in your direction. "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it before I spend thousands of euros on it." As he says it and his fingers curl around your wrist, that feeling blossoms in your chest again.

You want to throw him on the bed in front of you, kiss him until you can't breathe and touch him until you can see stars. You want to feel his warm skin under your fingertips, feel his muscles tense as he pulls you on top of him and presses you against his firm body. You want to feel his weight on you as he lays you down on the bed and his lips trail down from your mouth. You want to - 

"Do you really think I'm going to try sleeping without you again when we've figured out that we both sleep better when we're together?" he asks, gently stroking the thin skin on your wrist with his thumb. You hope he can't feel your racing pulse underneath. "When we first met, you said that you hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. And if it means I have to hold you in my arms so you can get a good night's sleep, then so be it. And it's not as if I don't enjoy having you close to me."

Before you can answer him, you feel a person standing at your other side and when you look, Kika is standing there. Her gaze flickers briefly to your hands before she turns to the bed as well. "Do any of you fancy a bite to eat?" she asks. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves incredibly good tiramisu. And it's never busy. We can go there if you like." She turns slightly in your direction and nudges you. "What about you? Do you want some tiramisu?"

More like a need than a want.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

[yanderemommabean]

Silly Royal Yandere Idea-

Imagine being a worker for a royal family, you're a farmer who brings the goods to the kitchen every day and make sure all vegetables and fruits are fresh, not bruised, cleaned and ready to be prepared for their meals.

You usually make the trek alone, no big deal right? Just some heavy baskets and such but the job itself isn't really that bad. It's made even better actually when the young prince finds he fancies the way you work and how you farm, loves to walk with you on your way out of the kingdom and listen to you and your stories.

He's cute, you'll give him that. Curious and finally able to explore without much of an issue now that he's finished his training, his father boasting proudly today even that they shall share a feast in celebration.

The walks are nice, you aren't alone and are even safer as the highwaymen shrink away and know to stay back when they see such fierce eyes. Those calloused hands from fighting and training lay on your hips, pulling you closer to his side as you share yet another walk to your farm and get the baskets ready for another delivery.

These sweet meetings grow in size as time goes on. He's been given permission by the king and queen to bring you to the main rooms of the castle, though they aren't too happy that he disregards their rules about what you can and can't touch.

He's so puppy-like, grabbing your hand and pulling you everywhere he can, showing his favorite art, his instruments he's been playing while he waits for you to return, the things he requested be made to remind him of you, and some other odd but - at the time- well meaning items.

The prince however gets more and more demanding of your presence. So much so, that one morning you wake up to begin to water the crops and fetch some in your buckets but you opened the door to the man standing there, royal suit and all, a wide smile on his face as he greets you.

You insist you'll be at the castle soon, that you have work to be done, but he just pushes you forward as he walks with you, -not harsh, but definitely firm, making sure you couldn't turn away from him as he leads you.

"Just one day can't hurt right?" he says, "I just wish to spend the day with you, only you. It's why I took my own horse! He loves your carrots, you know? Only yours...He's very much like me in that regard". 

You decide that, on one hand, denying the prince anything could be dire, the royal family having all say in what is done and you're lucky they have been so benevolent. Risking your business because you didn't want to indulge the odd prince...It isn't worth the reward of just keeping up with the crops and farm work. 

But this one day out by the river and having the man buy you whatever you laid your eyes on, while sweet and very enjoyable, wasn’t enough. He shows up every morning now, you hear how exhausted his parents are when you reach the castle every time, they demand he act right, that he stop leaving without notifying any of the guards, but he just laughs it off and says “Why should they embark with me on my and my lovers adventures? Private matters are private father, remember?” 

They know what's going on but it's so much darker and more twisted than anyone could have imagined. Boundaries get pushed more and more, you keep trying to keep your farm alive for not just the royal family, but yourself and the others who need you too, but the prince insists that your time is to be spent with him, only him. 

It reaches its boiling point when you deny him a walk. No runs to the river, no waltz in the woods, not even a chat over tea. Your farm is sick, it needs tending, and you yourself are weary and exhausted from trying to balance it all out. 

He goes silent, hands clenching at his side for a moment before he just smiles, wide and friendly as usual, and he kisses your hand before apologizing. You assure him you aren’t exactly mad, you just have things to finish, and he at least seems to understand that. 

Or, so you thought. You crack open your eyes after waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours, hearing the horses outside neigh and chuff in terror as if something was very very wrong. You recognize the royal emblem on the wall, and you shoot straight up, knowing this was a carriage. You shove and knock on the doors, the smell of smoke filling your senses as you can only imagine the worst, but the heavy wood doesn’t budge and you can only make out garbled words as a man screams demands. 

You manage to break open the boarded window of the carriage and watch as your farm is engulfed in flames, horses neighing in terror, ashes falling all around, your cabin falling in on itself from the blaze. And you gaze upon what you can only assume is the incarnation of death and war itself, a sign of the end times, as the Prince rides up on his own horse and tosses a lantern, the blaze only erupting hotter as he cackles in triumph. 

You feel horrified tears well up in your eyes, so many emotions coming together at once. Everything you worked for, everything you had built from the ground up, all your memories and all of your belongings- gone. 

Ash and embers fill the sky as the knights who came begin marching back to the carriage, staffs in hand as they finally open the doors. You lunge, wanting to tear your teeth into the heart of that evil, sick, twisted man, but he just laughs. It’s a soft amused laugh like when you told him your stories in the market or on your many many walks. 

“Ah, I hadn’t expected that mixture to wear off so soon!” he boasts, stepping down from his own horse. His stride is slow, like he’s taking in the view of a beautiful field or admiring someones art. You want to spit at him, claw at him, break him in any way you could fathom. 

His feet stop, the crumbling building behind him still a blazing orange and red, opposite of the cold features the prince wore on his face. His hand comes to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking across where tears are falling down your heated cheek. “Why so upset? I took care of what was keeping you away from me! I know, I know, you’re sad, but I made sure nothing of importance was hurt! Which wasn’t much. A picture or two should still be safe-” he says with an expression of after thought. “ Anyway, dearest, I fixed the issue! And you can now come where you’re meant to be! “ “I’ll kill you-” “Ah, even when murderous and livid you strike my heart with your beauty. Do tell me every wicked way you wish to end me! It thrills me, makes my skin crawl so pleasantly imagining you touching me in any manner” he taunts, squeezing your face a bit tighter. “Be it anger and resentment or true love, I’ll relish any touch you bring to me” “My lord, the sun will rise soon” a deep voice says from the side, your own eyes too stunned to look, uncaring as everything else sets in. Your home is gone, your fields are ruined, your possessions all roasted and incinerated. Nothing left but the haunting image of burned rubble and some charred remains of any item you owned. 

You’re trapped. Imprisoned in a golden cage as this wild man declares that he and you are meant to be, whether you want it or not. 

“Get some rest darling. I’ll lead us back to the castle” He says with a kiss to your forehead, allowing the knights to force you back inside. “Don’t be so angered! I promise to treat you like royalty! Since you will be, once the marriage is announced and all”

(Hope you liked this! Feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts! Especially spicy ones :3c -Mommabean)

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere prince #yandere royalty #yandere male #yandere prompts #sorry for typos #ok to interact #ok to reblog #ok to say stuff #ok to comment

[sanjisprincesswifey]

romance alphabet ⋆ trafalgar law

summary: what it's like to fall in love with the surgeon of death

a ⋆ affection; how affectionate is he? how does he show his affection?

at the start of the relationship, law almost never shows any affection toward you. he’s helplessly awkward when it comes to lovey-dovey stuff, but after a couple awkward encounters, he’ll gain some confidence and start providing you acts of service.

it’s honestly the little things with law; he’ll bring you a blanket and pillows to nap in his office; he always makes sure you eat, even going as far as to make you meals when you’re hungry; anything you desire, law will provide.

b ⋆ best quality; what's his best quality as a romantic partner and why?

law is an incredible listener. he is always paying attention to what you say no matter the time or place. he always remembers the smallest of details, which of most you didn’t even remember yourself. by knowing every detail about you, it’s his way of showing you how much he cares.

c ⋆ confession; would he confess his feelings first? if so, how would he confess?

lmao no. he’d rather roll over in his grave than tell you he likes you.

the only way you’d find out is through someone else (bepo).

d ⋆ dating; what is it like to date him? how is he as a romantic partner?

in the beginning, it feels as if your relationship is stagnant, nothing really changes from just being friends. until one late night when he asks if you want to see his coin collection or his comic books and it’s like his whole personality does a complete 180 on you, seemingly out of nowhere. suddenly you’re dating a complete nerd who is (un)secretly obsessed with you.

law’s definitely the type to remember all the little things you say, has a journal full of your favorite things, but rarely opts to be overly romantic. he would give you a present that reminds you of someone special to you and treat it as “no big deal.”

all in all, he’s a bit embarrassed to be romantic, but he’s definitely got the spirit.

e ⋆ emotions; how emotional is he with you? does he show his emotions right away or does it take time for him?

you’re lucky if you get a passive aggressive sigh from law for a very long time. he doesn’t start dropping his walls until a couple months to a year, again, if you’re lucky.

poor baby is so afraid to show you any real emotion because of all his unresolved trauma, so just be patient with him.

f ⋆ flirt; how good is he at flirting? does he flirt well or often?

oh my god, no; it’s the opposite in fact. he’s terrible, genuinely terrible.

he’s awkward, stuttery, sweaty, and kinda just stares at you when he can’t get any words out.

on the rare occasion he’s mediocre at it is when he’s drunk and no other time, you cannot convince me otherwise.

g ⋆ gifts; is he a gift giver? what kind of gifts does he enjoy giving you?

yes, but he’s not so much for the pageantry so they’ll be subtle; a new blanket on the bed for you, a framed photo of the two of you suddenly appearing on your nightstand, stuff like that.

h ⋆ hugs; does he hug you a lot? what are his hugs like?

he loves to hug you only when you're in the privacy of his room on the polar tang. he doesn't care much for the affection otherwise, that's what he tells you anyway. you later learn he's just embarrassed to be so romantic otherwise given his reputation.

since law towers over you, he practically throws his body weight into you when you hug. he wraps his arms around your waist, tightly clinging to you as his head droops into your shoulder. the majority of his body weight is now shoved into your shoulder like the big 26-year-old baby he is.

i ⋆ i love you; does he tell you that he loves you first?

again, i have to laugh, but no. maybe subtly, but never, ever directly and he will never say the actual words. he’ll be more ‘romantic’ or whatever his version of romantic is (being more attentive), and then the crew will catch on. law definitely talks about you way too much to the crew and they'll all realize that he loves you before you do.

j ⋆ jealousy; does he get jealous a lot? if so, for what specific reason?

oh, yes; probably one of the most jealous men in all of one piece, in my opinion.

law is deeply insecure, afraid of love, and has abandonment issues and if he feels even a twinge of jealousy it’s like his heart breaks on the sight.

however, it does take a little bit to get him jealous! he’s not threatened by normal interaction, but if someone was a bit too overly affectionate with you (read: luffy, sanji, or eustass), that’s enough to make him jealous. it’s the act of seeing someone be vulnerable with you the exact same way he is with you that drives him nuts.

k ⋆ kisses; what part of you is his favorite to kiss? how often does he enjoy kissing you?

his favorite is any place that’s intimate and vulnerable; being able to claim you as his because no one else gets to touch you where he does.

you can find law in the crux of your neck almost every night, it’s one of his favorite spots because he can practically breathe in your scent and lovingly kiss the area as much as he likes without getting tired.

after your relationship reaches the point where he’s no longer uncomfortable to show affection it’s like every second of the day with him. you wouldn’t think it by the look of him, but law adores kissing you even if it’s a quick kiss to your forehead in passing. it’s kind of his way of showing you love even when you aren't directly saying it and he gets super whiny when you don’t show him the same affection in return.

l ⋆ love language; what’s his love language?

acts of service. law thinks of it as an incognito way to show affection even when he’s around others. it’ll range from throwing a blanket on you when you “accidentally” fall asleep in his office to offering to aid you on specific tasks “just in case.”

m ⋆ memories; what memories of you two are the most precious to them? why do they treasure them?

it has to be the first night he said, ‘i love you.’ it’s after you had fallen asleep in his arms, your light snores echo around the room.

he has an elbow propped up against the pillow holding his head and the other arm draped around you. your bare skin is so warm against him, it was such a strange sensation compared to the cold air that usually envelopes him in his room.

your calm expression twitches slightly indicating that you had to be dreaming and law hopes it was about him.

his gray eyes were so soft; his facial muscles felt so foreign in such a gentle position, but he couldn’t help it when he was holding you so close to him. knowing that the person before him loved him so much.

that meant so much to him because it was the first time in 14 years that law had finally regained the love he had lost so long ago.

n ⋆ nicknames; what nicknames does he prefer to call you, if any at all?

law is such a ‘doll’ kind of guy. it just falls from his lips like butter and he’s so quick to start calling you that too.

o ⋆ on cloud nine; what is he like when he's in love? how different does he act when he's in love?

when law falls in love with you, it is probably the most confusing time in your relationship. it’s kinda like when the grinch’s heart grows three sizes but instead of accepting it, it scares the hell out of him. he’s extremely avoidant of you and won’t explain anything so you gotta corner him in his office.

he’ll get scared, possibly shed a tear or two and tell you just how terrified of love he is. you can’t really blame him, so you tell him you obviously love him too. he turns into such a clingy, obsessive guy after that. he loves having your attention; his walls really come down and he’ll show you all his nerdy collections like comic books and coins.

when law is finally ready to admit that he’s in love with you, he is the softest and most pure a man could be. he’s vulnerable and feels safe with you, so that means he’s extra protective.

p ⋆ pda; does he openly express pda? how affectionate is he in public?

unfortunately, law hates pda. in fact, law is very adamant on keep your relationship personal and private. due to his traumatic past, law chooses to keep you a secret so as to not put you in harm’s way.

though when you make the alliances that law does, he comes to realize that word will get out eventually. law attempts to threaten luffy to keep your relationship under wraps but, c’mon, it’s luffy.

q ⋆ quirks; what are some things you’ve learned about him since being in a relationship?

he’s very particular about everything; he always needs a solution to every problem. for instance, whenever you two have a disagreement, he’ll be unsatisfied until he has a direct solution for your issue and become frustrated if there isn’t one.

because of his particular-ness, when it’s his turn to plan date nights, they are often planned to a t. you will leave a certain time, the activity will take place at a certain time, etc., you think it’s completely adorable even when he’s frustrated when you’re a minute or two behind schedule.

r ⋆ romance; is he a romantic partner? is he cliché or creative?

contrary to popular belief, law can be quite romantic. he’s a ‘flowers just because kind of guy’ and is extremely creative in the gift-giving sentiment.

he opts for purchasing presents you’d actually enjoy, taking his time and putting energy into a photo album or scrapbook. the gestures from law are always well thought out; it’ll always be work he’s proud of.

s ⋆ smooch; what was your first kiss like? where did it happen and was it planned?

your first kiss is something law wishes you didn’t remember. he waited 26 years to kiss someone, did either of you really think he’d be any good at it?

it, of course, was a bit awkward. you never assume someone could mess up a kiss but somehow, he did.

you were in his office, chair placed closely next to his as you read over whatever book he was fixated on this week.

it was late, the both of you were sleep deprived beyond compare, but every time law glanced over at you reading the page he was, he swore his heart jumped out of his chest.

though the kiss itself was not planned, he spent at least 15 minutes mentally calculating if he should make his move.

when he finally mustered up the courage, he turned to you in an awkward position and just kinda stared between your eyes and your lips.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice your boyfriends gawking and before you can ask him if he’s okay he smushes his lips to yours.

of course, having no prior experience, he doesn’t really move his lips at all and just sits there for a couple of seconds until you pull away.

he’s confused, but he’s definitely got the spirit, so you give him some leeway and show him how it’s done.

the both of you laugh about that memory now, but he still feels embarrassed if he thinks about it for too long.

t ⋆ true love; does he believe you were destined to be together?

nope. he doesn’t believe in fate or astrology or anything of the sort but is definitely open to it if you do.

even if doesn’t believe in any spiritual destiny, he constantly finds himself thanking whoever may be up there that he is lucky enough to have you.

u ⋆ ultimatum; what is a dealbreaker in his relationship?

law needs loyalty. he needs to know that you are his and, more importantly, that he is yours. the hardest part about falling in love for him is that he is terrified that you’ll leave him and having your loyalty reassures him (most times anyway) that you’ll always be by his side.

v ⋆ value; how important is the relationship to him? what is it worth in comparison to other things in his life?

okay, don’t shoot the messenger, but at the start of your relationship law didn’t think that highly of it. due to his lack of emotional affection to or from anyone, he honestly saw no important significance for being in a relationship.

in classic law fashion, nothing really changed between you two until he realized how much your absence affected him. the romantic longing in his heart was such an unfamiliar feeling he mistook it for some kind of heart condition.

eventually law comes to realize that, maybe, someone who is as closed off and lonely as he could fall in love and then he is putty in your hands. the minute he knows he loves you, you become his number one priority. he tries to maintain some of his natural disposition, but he is so desperate to be loved by you that he does anything and everything for you.

w ⋆ wild card; a random relationship headcanon!

law is borderline obsessed with you. he’ll know things about you that you don’t even remember telling him. he’s kind of a freak if we’re being honest.

he steals clothes from your room because they smell like you, takes photos of you without your knowledge so that he can keep them for later, and bought your engagement ring the day he knew he loved you.

obviously, he has no intention of ever telling you any of this because he doesn’t need you to know just how desperate he is for you to love him.

law knows that you’re his and either he’s marrying you or he’s dying alone, no other option.

x ⋆ x-factor; what drew him to you?

law loves how different the two of you are. you aren’t opposites by any means, but the way that your emotional intelligence and situational awareness (especially when it comes to such a brooding man such as himself) differ so greatly from his that it entices something within him. he doesn’t consider you the opposite of him, but he views it as what he lacks, you offer.

he knew you had these qualities from the very beginning, that’s why he asked you to join his crew, but seeing how well they transfer over to your relationship made him swoon even more.

y ⋆ yearning; when does his find himself missing you?

though he never prefers to be put in situations that are rambunctious or crazy, law finds himself missing you most when he’s in them. something about having you there, holding his hand or talking to him makes the situation so much better.

z ⋆ zzz; what is his favorite sleeping position? is he the big spoon or the little spoon?

something about spooning always gives law so much comfort. he loves to cling to you, to have you pulled so tight to chest that you can feel his heartbeat through your back.

while the warmth and closeness being the big spoon provides him is extremely comforting, law does prefer to be the little spoon. when you’re as private and apathetic as law is, he’s practically begging to be held by you. since he rarely gets a good night’s sleep, being in your arms is the best melatonin substitute.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

[toruro]

— ✧ crazy stupid love

pairing. kwon soonyoung x reader

description. your best friend, turned fuck buddy, seems a little too upset about your latest instagram post ...

tags. smut (18+), fwb to lovers, some angst, fluff, confessions, mean dom → switch hoshi, jealousy, arguments (dw there is resolution), angry sex, biting, dacryphilia, degrading (+ discussion of degradation), use of safeword, slightly inspired by crazy stupid love

w/c. 3.6k

a/n. happy birthday hoshi! ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 months but i figured i should wrap it up and post it today :3

"who's this?" soonyoung asks, holding his phone up to your face. on the screen is a picture that you posted on your story last night, your friend with an arm around your shoulder.

"huh, that's dongwoo," you say, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows. the back of your head is leaning against his shoulder as your legs are propped up on the other end of the sofa. soonyoung came over to watch the harry potter marathon with you a few hours ago, but with the showing break going on right now, you're both taking some time to catch up on your phones.

"who's that?" soonyoung says flatly, not looking at your face as he pulls his phone back, squinting at the photo. his gaze feels oddly scrutinizing, but you don't say anything about it just yet.

sitting up from your position, soonyoung frowns as you lift yourself off of him to sit across from him on the couch. "you don't remember dongwoo? he went to high school with us?" soonyoung gives you a blank stare. "jeong dongwoo? doesn't the name ring a bell?"

the name does ring a bell, but soonyoung only shrugs and replies, "uh, no i can't say it does."

"no way! we had chem with him! he was really nice and good at labs too," you go on, reminiscing about your memories from your teen years.

"that's weird, i don't remember him." that's a lie—soonyoung definitely remembers dongwoo, but he doesn't remember him ever being as smitten with you as he looks on your post.

"well whatever," you brush off, leaning back onto soonyoung's arm. "he was in town and dmed me asking if i wanted to catch up over dinner."

"a date?" soonyoung asks shamelessly.

you scoff. "no. not a date. just two friends meeting up for dinner."

"a guy and a girl don't meet up for dinner and not call it a date," your friend argues, and then you lift yourself off of him again. soonyoung is slightly annoyed you aren't curled up by his side anymore, but he's even more annoyed by dongwoo's stupid smile on his stupid face with his stupid arm around you.

"what are you talking about? we go out for dinner all the time! those aren't dates," you tell him as a matter of factly, frowning slightly as you do.

"yeah," soonyoung murmurs with a humorless laugh. "and we usually fuck afterwards, so our case is obviously different."

heat courses through your body as the words leave his lips. it's not like he's wrong, but the shamelessness of it all is a little more than you're used to. you're used to the deafening silence and the unspoken words that fill the gaps every time soonyoung leaves you breathless, every time he leaves your brain empty, every time he fucks you.

after he says that, there's that thick, ugly silence wedging itself between you and soonyoung again. you don't like it, not one bit.

"whatever," you finally huff out, not sure if you should lay back down on him or continue sitting up, sensing that soonyoung might want to make a bigger deal out of this than is good for him. "it wasn't a date, i don't know what else to tell you."

neither of you know why you're trying to convince him of this. it shouldn't matter if it was a date or if it wasn't, if dongwoo had an arm around your shoulder, if his touch lingered more, fingers ghosting down your body, up your thigh—

that's what soonyoung tries to tell himself—that it doesn't matter, that none of it matters, that you don't matter to him—at least not like that. too bad he can't control himself. soonyoung can never control himself when it comes to you, and he's starting to wonder if that's a blessing or a curse.

he scoffs, "you're being a real brat right now."

your eyes narrow at him and while this would usually put you in one of those moods—the mood where you want to yank your pants off, have soonyoung's hand in your panties—you're slightly annoyed right now. "what's that supposed to mean?" you ask accusingly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

it's a thoughtless gesture but your tits bunch up together and the curve peeks over the collar of your loose shirt. soonyoung stares for a moment and then thinks about if dongwoo looked at you like this. like he wanted to grab your tits, tweak your pretty nipples between his fingers, drink in your moans while he licks into your mouth.

the thought has red flashing through his vision and before you can even think, there's a pair of hot, wet lips on yours and soonyoung is kissing you like he'll die if he doesn't. teeth gnashing against each other as one of his hands wraps around your torso, the other goes up to grab one of your tits, massaging the flesh with his palm.

yeah, you said you were annoyed, but yeah soonyoung is a great kisser and your mind is throttling, going back and forth as you try to decide if you should give in or attempt to hold your own. "soonyoung," you pant as you break away to take a breath, but his lips are on yours again too quickly for you to form a reply.

you find your resolve running thin as you thread your finger into his hair, bringing his face closer as he shifts on the couch above you, knees on either side of you, caging you in. his mouth his pressing kisses to the side of your lips now, peppering your cheeks, and then he's on your neck.

your lips aren't occupied but any words of protest have effectively died in your throat as you squirm under soonyoung when he sinks his teeth into your skin, whining out his name. your hips buck into his for some much needed tension and you can feel soonyoung chuckled against your skin as he licks over the reddening mark.

you feel dizzy when he pulls away and admires the way he's quite literally marked his territory on you. scoffing out loud, soonyoung gives you mean look. "wonder what dongwoo will think about this ..." your mind races at the words—what soonyoung means by that is still a bit of a mystery to you, but the fact that he's so hell bent on keeping you to himself is ... it's turning you on like crazy.

and soonyoung doesn't stop there as he pulls off his shirt and you try to shimmy out of your pants. "what'll he think, huh? his cute little crush ..." he murmurs, looking down at you after your pants are off and thrown to the side, leaving you in just your soiled panties. "his dream high school sweetheart with her legs open, pussy dripping, for a guy who isn't even her fuckin' boyfriend ... like a fuckin' slut."

you gasp when he brings up a thumb to toy with your clit through the fabric, hips jerking up at the contact. "w-what are you—" you're cut off by your own moan when soonyoung pushes the cloth to the side, slipping one finger into your aching cunt without warning. you really want to ask soonyoung what he means by all this, but it just feels so good—too good, and you can't help it at all—your body seems to always give into him.

his finger is already hitting that one spot that he knows has you seeing stars, and your jaw goes slack at how quickly the pleasure is all hitting you. usually, soonyoung likes to work you up to it; starts by playing with your clit for a few hot minutes 'til you're begging for just some fingers inside and then he toys with you for another good while before he finally gives you his cock and fucks you dumb. something tells you today is a bit different.

today is very different, but you have a strong feeling that you won't mind. because all it takes is a few more quick flicks of his wrist and you're crying out his name, saying, "'m gonna cum—soon-soonyoung, 'm cumming!"

you thrash around on the cushions as your orgasm hits you, and soonyoung buries his head into your neck and biting down even harder than before. the slight sting has your senses heightening and your cunt throbs around his fat fingers as he fucks you through the high, not relenting until your neck is littered with hot red marks and you're quivering beneath him.

a content sigh escapes your lips when he slips out of you, allowing yourself a moment to breathe as you start to sit up when soonyoung narrows his eyes at you, unbuckling his jeans in the process.

"don't move," he warns and although you furrow your brows, you comply nonetheless, letting your head fall back against the couch as you watch him shove down his pants and boxers in one go. soonyoung's fat length springs out, hitting against his abdomen as he shuffles his way in between your legs.

pressing his lips together, he asks, "color?" and when the word green is slipping softly from his mouth, he finds it hard to hold back. "fuck, how are you this needy already," he groans when he catches the look on your face—your bottom lip jutted out as you look up at him with shining eyes.

soonyoung grabs your cheek with one hand roughly, shoving a thumb into your mouth as he positions his cock between your folds. you're quick to wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking hard and swirling your tongue in hopes that it'll egg him on to just stick it in already, but instead he just slides his length up and down your folds.

you pout around his thumb but don't stop sucking, letting the drool run down your chin as tears well up in your waterline, and soonyoung chuckles at the look. "go on baby, go on. know you want it," he coos mockingly, continuing to cover his length in your slick but not actually giving you what you want.

"soonyoungie," you whimper when you can't take it anymore, trying to lift your hips yourself so he'll get the message but then he's pressing down on your stomach and holding you in your place.

"be patient slut," he demands, and your eyes press closed when he does, walls clenching around nothing as the word slips from his mouth. "you just came—are you really that insatiable?"

you nod dumbly as he slips his thumb out of your mouth, using the same, wet hand to tightly squish your cheeks together. soonyoung thinks you look so cute like this—puffy lips and lashes thick with tears—and he doesn't give you even a moment's warning when he snaps his cock inside of you in one go.

his balls are pressed against your ass, and soonyoung holds himself there for just a moment before he's pulling back and thrusting back into you. "god fuck—perfect pussy," he groans, thrust after thrust as you throttle against the couch with the increasing force.

you can feel your ass and thighs burn from the way his skin slaps against yours every single time, the sensation only adding fuel to the fire as you cry out his name.

"bet dongwoo thought about this," soonyoung moans as he starts jamming his cock into you less methodically and more sloppy, more hard, more fierce. "thought 'bout having you moaning his name like the pretty whore you are."

you try to mewl something along the lines of, "we're just friends," but it comes out as nothing but a high pitched moan as your second orgasm creeps up on you.

and it's fucking mind-numbing, and you don't think you've ever cum so hard and so fast but soonyoung is grinning down at you as you arch your back and squeeze around his cock so tight it almost pushes him off the edge but no—he's determined to keep going until you can't take it anymore.

"keep goin' baby, i know you can take it." he hardly gives you a second to rest, thrusts slowing only for a few moments as he watches you cream his cock before letting his hands roam all over you.

in your overstimulated haze, you hardly realize when soonyoung flips you over, cock still buried deep inside your hot cunt as you try to stabilize yourself on your knees. his hand is on the back of your neck, pressing your face into the cushions so hard it muffles your moans as his cock batters your buzzing pussy.

he's ramming into you so hard now and all you can feel is white hot pleasure ripping through your body, soonyoung whispering about how you're his filthy little slut, taking everything he's giving you. gripping onto the side of the couch, you try to hold yourself together, you really, really do, but it's too much all at the same time and the word slips from your lips before you even have to think about using it.

"r-red." it's so quiet and hoarse the first time that you aren't even sure if he can hear you so you cry out again, "red, s-soonyoung, red."

it's all a haze when soonyoung slips out of you slowly, giving you both a few moment to adjust as you finally catch your breath over the hiccups of your soft whimpers.

now soonyoung likes seeing you cry, but not when it's like this. he likes seeing you whine and tear up when you're under him and writhing from pleasure, but what he doesn't like is the way your eyebrows are furrowed like this. 'cause when he looks at you now, he sobers up and the anger that fogged his mind just moments ago is clearing up.

"s-shit, i'm sorry," he says quickly as you curl up against the cushions, limbs still quivering from all the pleasure and stimulation. soonyoung wants to reach out, wants to touch you—hold you—and ask you what wen wrong, promise you that he didn't meant to go too far, promise you that he didn't even realize it, but he's not sure if he should.

because right now you won't meet his gaze and he's wondering if he's somehow royally fucked up what's likely the best thing he's got going on his life.

soonyoung's lost for a few moments before senses are snapping into him and he thinks he should get you some water, a towel—do anything except sit here dumbly like he is right now. but when he shuffles away from you and is about to step of the couch he feels a familiar touch around his wrist and he gapes down at you.

"wait," you mumble, finally looked up at him once the tears have stopped flowing. soonyoung stills for a moment, and he's not sure if he should take that as in invitation to move closer or just stay put, but then you're tugging him softly and he can't help but cave. "can y-you lay on top of me?" you ask timidly, and soonyoung gives you a weird look as if to ask, are you sure? "i, uh, i think it'd help me. please?"

that's all takes for him to drape his whole body over you, arms pressed against your side and hands stroke your shoulders. your bare chests are pressed against you and soonyoung swears your rapid heartbeats sync up on the spot as you breaths start to relax.

when all finally feels calm, soonyoung takes a moment to finally ask you the question that's been bothering him this whole time. lifting his head, he finds you looking right back at him. "are you okay? what went wrong?"

"i—yes, i'm okay."

"a-are you sure? you can tell me anything you know—i won't judge, i won't care—i mean obviously i'll care but you know what i mean and—" he starts to ramble, and your lips almost twitch up into a smile, "—and i'm sorry this isn't about me but i'm worried i did something and might have majorly fucked things up and—"

"soonyoung," you say, voice all breathy and light. "slow down, i'm okay."

"are you?" he asks, and his voice is so shaky you frown.

"yes, i promise. i'm, well, i think i just got overwhelmed. it was a lot and happened really quickly and it was a bit more intense than i'm used to," you admit. "not that i didn't like it ... i just wasn't expecting it."

soonyoung watches you carefully as you speak, sitting up and pulling you up in the process too. "i'm sorry—i didn't realize," he confesses. "i was—" he inhales sharply wondering if he should admit his jealousy, "— a bit lost in my own head. i shouldn't have taken it out on you like that. do you want me to get you water?"

you nod and he stands up, heading to the kitchen to grab you a glass. when he sits back down, next to you, soonyoung is relieved when you curl up by his side, gulping down the drink before questioning him. "um, can i ask what you mean by, uh, lost in your head? wait actually—before you answer that—" you pause, "—do you really think i'm a slut?"

soonyoung's eyes widen. "no—fuck, god no. i just—you know, we usually—you know—degrade. if you don't like it i'll stop and—"

"no no, soonyoung, like, i meant outside of sex. do you think i was—i dunno—messing around with dongwoo?"

dongwoo? "no—i don't think you're a slut for that. shit, i'm sorry—i don't even know what the fuck got into me. i just—i don't even know. okay fuck. fuck. okay. i was jealous."

"of dongwoo? we didn't even fu—"

"i know. i know—it shouldn't even matter because we're not exclusively fucking or whatever but i got jealous okay? i don't know—i fucking love you so i saw him with his stupid hand around you and i wanted to punch him in the fuckin' face."

your eyes snap wide at that. "what? you—fuck—what?"

soonyoung hardly even realizes he's confessed until you're looking up at him with those wide eyes and he wonders how he's managed to dig himself deeper into this hole. shit, there's really no getting out of this now. he might as well crawl down further and sit there for the rest of his life and—

"i, uh—i didn't know you felt the same way."

"what? what do you mean the same way—"

"are you stupid, soonyoung?"

"um, kind of."

you laugh and kiss him hard for a second. suddenly you're pressing his shoulders and swinging a leg over his thighs so you can straddle his laps.

"wait hold on," he murmurs, but continues to wrap his arms around your waist as you lift your hips to align yourself over his still hard cock. "a-are you sure? are you okay?"

"yeah," you mutter, kissing him again as you wrap your arms around his neck. "can we take it a little easier from here though?"

soonyoung doesn't hesitate to say, "yes, of course—" but the last word gets cut off by a hitch of his breath when you sink down on him, the two of you moaning in unison at the feeling. his hands are gripping your waist and holding you down as he relaxes, leaning back into the seat as he casually says, "i am never calling you a slut again. or anything degrading for that matter." it's half a joke, half not, and you can tell he's still on edge.

"i like it," you admit as you adjust yourself on his lap, not really moving yet though. "just—i was a bit worried today. i thought you— i dunno. didn't know you liked me too and i didn't know what to think."

soonyoung furrows his brows but can't find the right words to say, so he kisses you instead, pulling you up so his cock drags out of halfway before gently letting you fall back down, tip hitting your walls slowly but deep.

"fuck," you moan into his mouth, holding his head closer to yours. absentmindedly, you lift your hips up again and then grind down methodically, causing both of you to break away from the kiss and look down at the sloppy wet mess where you connect.

and as you both get lost in the moment, fingers grappling at each other's burning skin, letting your bodies melt together, it dawns on you that you and soonyoung have fucked a countless amount of times but this is the first (of many) that you two have made love.

it's an entirely new experience, dreamy eyes and wet, passionate kisses with whispers of love confessions under your breaths and the smooth and damn good thrusts that slowly but surely bring you to the edge.

"feels so good," soonyoung moans, thrusting up into you gently to meet your bounces as you steady him with your arms around his shoulders.

"g'na cum, soonyoungie?" you try to coo, but it comes out as a whimper of your own as you feel that knot in your belly threaten to snap. and when he's nodding into your neck and sucking on the skin, you both fall apart in each other's arms.

cries and grunts mix together in a beautiful song and when you and soonyoung look at each other, sweating, flushed, teary eyed, and so fucking in love, you know that whatever happens with the two of you after this, it will work.

a/n. hope u enjoyed it!

tags. @synthetickitsune @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji (strikethrough could not be tagged)

#hoshi scenarios #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung #svt smut #svt reactions #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #📝 writing

[lunarw0rks]

Hi! I hope your day has been well :]. If you don't mind, could you do some headcannons on Task 141 + konig or just 141 reacting to their s/o having boobs that just never fit in a button up?

Like the button up will just pop open after a long time of trying to close it. So their s/o just wears it halfway open and is completely oblivious to the "seductive/hot" look it gives her.

Thank you ^^

You're Killing Me // 141 Drabbles

Warning(s): suggestive language/content, brief mention of harassment, established relationship, fem!reader, no use of y/n Word Count: 1.4k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS; you had spent nearly twenty minutes unbuttoning and re-buttoning the top. You twirled around, bent down, spread your arms—sometimes just breathed and they popped right out. It was a hopeless battle, and you had lost all your patience fighting the size of your chest. In return, you kept the shirt buttoned down about halfway. There was more cleavage showing than you were used to, but it was only you and him there, so why not leave the neckline free? They needed to breathe, anyhow.

Price

John was somewhere in the house, but nowhere in sight. Most days the clearing of his throat or an earth-shattering sneeze are the only things that let you know he’s even home.

Today was no different. He was probably somewhere in his office if you had a guess. You walked down the stairs and went to the kitchen, deciding to cook some brunch for the two of you. You brewed some coffee for him, easy enough because he liked it black. Then, began cooking some eggs and toast to go with the caffeine.

When finished, you carefully picked up the plate you arranged, then the mug. Before you could turn, you heard the familiar clearing of a throat.

❝What are you doing, sweetheart?❞ He asked, but his words began to quiet when he saw your shirt only buttoned halfway. His eyes bulged slightly, very slightly, but he was eerily good at maintaining a poker face. John sipped on the mug you handed him, but his eyes didn’t flutter shut like they normally did as he drank.

❝I made brunch for you,❞ you reply, an ever-innocent smile on your face. It was clear you really didn’t have any idea how seductive you looked. It wasn’t just some cleavage, the collar was open so much he didn’t need to use much of his imagination.

❝I see that.❞ John rasped, that cheeky smile appearing on his face. The one that usually followed a snarky remark—but he couldn’t spoil this now. Not with a day of work ahead of him, though he had an almost remarkable amount of self-restraint.

To sneak another look, he approached from the side, kissing your head. One where he allowed himself to ogle down your shirt. ❝You look gorgeous today.❞ He mumbled against your hair, then retreated from the kitchen.

Sure, it had a double meaning for later. But right now? He would have something to look forward to as he got through his stacks of paperwork.

Simon

❝I’m headed out.❞ You said from the entrance hall, scooping up your bag and keys. You were going out with a friend, perhaps to get dinner or do some shopping. After that heated dressing session this morning, how you’ve left your shirt, you’re definitely buying a larger one.

Simon’s back was visible as he sat on the sofa, barely turning his head when you announced your departure. You swore you could hear him mutter an “mhm” but other than that, he only nodded his head.

Then, you remembered. You walked towards the living room, close enough for your outfit to be in sight. You thought nothing of the way you looked. In fact, you just thought it was a slightly revealing outfit, nothing else. ❝Don’t forget, your uniform is in the laundry room.❞

Though it was impossible to see on your end, Simon’s eyes were scanning the way you’d dressed yourself. He shifted in his seat a bit, nodding at your reminder—though it had flown right past him upon seeing your protruding chest.

You walked away, no other words exchanged. To you, it was just an average conversation with him; dry and reserved, despite how strong your relationship had gotten. You just learned to accept it, because a man like Simon wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t want to.

—

Lunch with friends had just finished, as well as about an hour of shopping. Unbeknownst to you, Simon had tailed you the whole time, sneakily and with laser focus. Yes, he had your location on his phone. Yes, he trusted you not to get yourself into trouble. But his paranoia got the better of him, especially seeing you dressed so revealingly.

He lacked trust with strangers, not you—his fear of you finding someone better took years to get over.

You walked out to the parking lot of the mall, a few shopping bags in hand. Then, you spotted him leaning against your car, balaclava rolled up and a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. ❝You stalking me now, babe?❞ You approached him, never sure what to expect from him.

When he saw you, his position blocking your car door didn’t change, his eyes did. He stared down at your chest again, then met your eyes. ❝Did you enjoy yourself? How about the mocha latte?❞

His words made your eyes widen slightly. The bastard was even behind you in line at Starbucks, and you hadn’t noticed? His stealth was both impressive and bone-chilling. Your silence made his brows furrow under his mask, urging him to step a bit closer. ❝Relax. I’m not bein’ a prick. Was just worried about you being out.❞

Simon would never say why, or the awful scenarios he’d convinced himself of. He would’ve done it with or without you wearing the revealing outfit. All your clueless self needed to know was that you were protected.

Soap

God, what was taking you so long?

❝Film starts at 4:30, lass. It’s 4:15.❞ He said through the door, tapping his foot against the floor. Soap looked down at his watch, waiting outside the bathroom for you to finish getting dressed. You were taking longer than usual, though he hadn’t imagined it was because your boobs kept popping out of your shirt.

Upon hearing your gasps and groans of frustration, then the sound of clothing fabric shuffling, he furrowed a brow in concern. ❝Everything alright?❞

You swung open the door, slightly out of breath from your struggle with the button-up. ❝Yeah, let’s get going.❞ Let’s just say the beam on your face, it was the second thing he noticed. Your cleavage was on full display, only half the buttons fastened. Soap’s eyes glossed over a bit, expecting some sort of tease from your lips, but you were oblivious.

He had to take a few steps back, his expression dropping into a sneer. ❝You have the slightest clue what you’re doin’, bonnie? Those are gonna catch some stares…❞ As possessive as his words sounded, they weren’t preventing you from going out like that. What creeper in their right mind would try anything with him at your side? Next to none.

❝I couldn’t get the shirt buttoned,❞ your lips tightened into a pout, expecting him to ask you to change, or something to that effect—though he wasn’t the type.

However, he just smirked, lips pursing cockily. ❝Might even try to touch you. That’s before they lose their hands, though.❞ Soap winked, draping an arm around your shoulders as he led you to the front door.

As he snaked his arm around your shoulder, he snuck in a grope, one that was followed by a flushed expression on both your faces. He chuckled at the coy look on your face as if you weren’t dating the biggest flirt. ❝What? These are mine, lass. I’m allowed to touch.❞

Gaz

The heat was sweltering and unforgiving—especially in the prime of the afternoon.

You opened up all the curtains, allowing yourself to sunbathe as you moved about the house, but without leaving the comfort of the AC. The natural light gave your shared living room a warm, homey feel. The front door shut—he had gotten back from his daily run. 

❝Felt like a bloody melting ice pop out there,❞ Kyle grunted as he went straight to the kitchen, pressing a chilled bottled water to his sweating head. When his eyes opened, he saw the shirt you had on for the first time that day.

Kyle not-so-subtly checked you out as you fanned yourself with a magazine. The shirt, already tight enough, was even tighter as the heat made you pant. And the dribble of sweat running down your exposed cleavage? What a sight to him. ❝Is there something on my face?❞ You questioned with a senseless giggle.

He had traveled across the kitchen at the speed of light, a hungry kiss on your lips. He pulled away for air, ❝you’ll be the death of me before the Sun is, love.❞ One hand pushed a sweaty strand of hair away, while the other tugged at the opening of the shirt playfully.

You knitted your brows while biting down on your now saliva-soaked lips, ❝aren’t you tired from your run?❞ Besides, he typically wasn’t that forward. You wondered if the heat really got to him, having no clue how aroused your chest made him.

❝Not anymore.❞

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #141 headcanons #141 x reader #task force 141 x y/n #soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #soap mactavish x you #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #task force 141 smut #call of duty mw2

[tinyluvs]

Can you do one where the reader is meeting Spencer's mom for the first time, idk if you've done this yet

i haven’t & i absolutely can !! tysm angel ♡ enjoy!

it's painfully obvious that spencer is ten times more nervous than you are, his fingers playing with yours in his lap, "spence, honey, we need to get out of the car at some point," you say softly, your other hand closing over his

"i know, just nervous," he mumbles, staring down at his lap, "never bought a girl to meet my mom," he admits, though you already know. he turns to face you with soft eyes and a shy smile

gently, you brush his hair back slightly, "i wouldn't be here if i didn't think it was right spence," leaning over the centre console, you kiss him quickly before grinning, "now come on, otherwise she's going to think we aren't coming!"

you hop out of the car before your boyfriend can respond, waving your arm in a hurry up motion as he takes far too long to round the car. spencer rolls his eyes playfully at you before snatching at your hand to lead you towards the building

silently he almost drags you through the reception to the elevator, excitement starting to replace the nervousness, "remember, her memory isn't the best som-" he starts to ramble when you're on the way up to the fourth floor, his hands planted on your shoulders

"spencer," you cut him off, wrapping your fingers around his wrists, "i know, it's going to be fine i promise you" you sway back and fourth slightly until his hands are slipping down your arms

the elevator doors ping open as spencer puffs out a long breath, "come on then, sweetheart," he hums, going straight back to dragging you, your legs moving twice as fast to keep up with him

"doctor reid!" a man smiles as he approaches, "your mom is expecting you, in fact this is all she has talked about for the past three days," he explains and you can physically see the relief flood through your boyfriend’s body

"she remembered?" he asks, getting confirmation when the man nods his head. you squeeze at spencer's hand slightly, your thumb stroking over his, "where is she?"

the man nods towards a hallway, "last time i saw her, she was in her room," he offers as he gets whisked away by a nurse

"that's my moms doctor," spencer says, actually walking alongside you and not three steps ahead of you, "i'm happy that she remembered though,"

as you turn a corner, you hum lightly in agreement, eyes drifting over the walls decorated with pictures, group outings and trips along with displays of in house activities. spencer gasps beside you, "mom!"

further down the hallway a woman is walking, her back turned to you and spencer but when he calls, she stops and turns. a moment of confusion passes over her eyes but it leaves as a smile spreads across her face

you let go of spencer's hand as you come to a stop, smiling to yourself as he engulfs her in a hug, his chin resting on her shoulder

"spencer," diana exclaims, hugging him back before putting her hands on his upper arms and holding him at arms length, "let me get a good look at you,"

your boyfriend shoots you a smile, which you return, "mom, look," he says, holding his arm out to you, "remember i told you i was bringing my girlfriend," he gestures for you to come closer, "mom this is-"

diana waves a dismissive hand at her son, "i know who this is, you talk about her all the time," she smiles at you when you gasp slightly, outstretched hand being ignored as she gives you a hug instead, her hand smoothing gently over your back

spencer stands beside you both, his eyes wide and sparkly while his mouth is hung slightly open in a silent gasp but his cheeks are a violent shade of red because of his mom's confession

you pout slightly at him before diana releases you, "it's so nice to finally meet you," you say as she looks over you with what you hope is an approving nod, "i've heard so much about you,"

"trust me when i say i've heard twice as much about you," she lowers her voice though spencer can definitely still hear her, "i approve," she concludes, nodding at spencer

"mom!" he shrieks as you giggle at him, "where were you going before we stopped you?" he rushes in an attempt to change the subject as his cheeks start to heat up all over again

diana rolls her eyes at his dramatics, "i was going to get a snack and a drink, do you want to come with?" she asks, both you and her looking at spencer for an answer

"if you don't mind,"

"come on then," she says, linking her arm around yours, leaving spencer to walk along behind you both, "they do the most fabulous cake here, i'll get you a slice," she pats at your arm as you begin to walk down the hallway

"oh yum, thank you" you say, never one to turn down a free slice of cake. behind your back spencer grabs at your hand, the angle slightly awkward but neither of you complain

your boyfriends mom hums thoughtfully, quickly drawing your attention back to her, "he's never, ever, bought a girl to meet me, you know," she says lightly

"i do,"

"i don't think he will ever bring another," she whispers, leaning towards you slightly. you look at her with a puzzled look, eyebrows furrowing across your forehead, "for him, you're the one,"

you gasp, "you think? i know he is for me"

diana scoffs, "i know," she corrects you, "the way he talks about you, oh to be young and in love-"

without meaning to, you tune her out, turning to look back at spencer, who tilts his head at you with confusion. you mouth i love you at him before pulling on his hand, dragging him around to your side

"what're you two talking about?" he asks, full of suspicion, looking at his mom with wide eyes. you chuckle when diana looks at him, tapping the side of her nose with her finger, "oh no," spencer sighs at her

"nothing bad," she defends herself, squeezing your arm gently. spencer hums, his thumb tapping against your hand, "yet, i've got the baby pictures out and ready in my room though”

"oh my god,"

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

#❥ my works #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #❥ spencer reid #❥ spencer reid fic rec #❥ my spencer works #❥ spencer reid drabbles

[seichv]

❛ WITH YOUR MOUTH. ❜

clean up after yourself when you make a mess. 2.3k words.

contents: nsfw content (mdni), f!reader, daddy kink (mentioned like once), oral (both receiving), p in v, creampie, squirting, toji calls you: brat, sweetheart, slut, baby, etc.

note: i have risen from the dead friends ;D seriously though, its been a while since ive written... life's been wild of late and i was lacking motivation but im back on my zoom now hehe (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

you might have fucked up.

down spills the coffee that you chucked at toji, the brawny man standing motionless with a look of amusement as the hot liquid poured down his body, the sound of the cup tumbling onto the ground echoing in the kitchen. what exactly led to that? you may ask. quite frankly, you don’t even remember. it was likely another one of those days where you had a stick up your ass just because; with your bratty attitude leading you to get all pissy about every little thing.

and here you are, your pupils dilating as you freeze in place while watching toji’s expression. it remains indifferent for the most part, as you would expect from someone like him. that’s until his eyes trail back up to meet your face, and there’s something about his gaze that just shifts in a way. you’re gulping, your body stiffening in alarm. there’s a faint chuckle that escapes his lips before he speaks up with that gravelly voice of his. 

“c’mere.” he tells you. you know better than to disregard him, so you start stepping closer to him. though just because you’re listening to him doesn't mean you’ll do away with the bitter expression you got going on, as it's still very prominently plastered onto your face. and these steps youre taking, they’re slow as fuck. you’re definitely mistaken if you think that he’s got the patience for that shit right now.

because of that, in a blink of an eye you’ve got your throat seized by one of his meaty hands, yanking you closer and forcing you to maintain eye contact. his figure looms over yours, and you can almost see some veins seeping through his neck. “you just had to pull that shit on me, huh?” you could practically just say that he’s spitting venom with the way he's speaking. you narrowed your eyes, sucking in a sharp breath before speaking. “well, had you not been a total jackass—” 

“yeah?” toji cuts you off, his face lowering some more as his head tilts to the side, giving your throat a little squeeze. you've got some real nerve with the back-talk, and he really isn't in the mood for tolerating that shit anymore. he looks down at his drenched, coffee-stained shirt, his tongue poking out to lick the scar at the corner of his mouth before he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh.

“clean up the motherfucking mess you made,” he says. now, that would initially give you the thought of wiping the ground with a towel or mop, and maybe doing him the favor of throwing his shirt in the laundry, right? 

“with your mouth.”

… wait, what?

your eyes go wide, and you're glaring up at the man like he’s got 10 heads. he doesn't look like he's joking, really. and that’s because he’s not. it takes you a hot minute before you could get words out of your mouth. “... huh? the fuck is wrong with you? clean the damn floor with my mouth?! what’s that supposed to mean, you gross bastard—”

“to hell with the fucking floor.” he interrupts. “i didn’t say nothin’ bout the floor, dumb brat.” toji adds, his fingers trailing up toward your jaw, taking your face in his hand as he turned it side to side as he spoke, as if he were trying to get your attention. i mean, there's only one other mess other than the one on the floor. the mess on him. before you could open your mouth to muster up a response, toji speaks again. “tch, yeah. keep staring at me like a dumb little girl,” your body temperature begins to soar with his words. “take off my shirt.”

you honestly cannot believe this man. you blink rapidly with furrowed eyebrows, stuttering like a broken record. “toji, what are you even going on about right now—” 

“nah, sweetheart. don’t give me that crap.” what is this, the 1000th fucking time this man has interrupted you? goddamnit. “take. off. the. shirt.” toji repeats himself, putting emphasis on each word like he’s talking to a complete moron. you started chuckling to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head with a look on your face that read, ‘he’s got to be kidding.’

“yeah, no. toji, give me a fucking break.” you responded, snickering between your words, and ooh toji was just itching to bend you over the damn counter and fuck you till you’re screaming… to get those vocal cords to rupture. there will never be a single day where he’d hesitate to get you to straighten the fuck up.

before you know it, both of toji’s hands grab your wrists, almost painfully. he then starts walking, backing you up to the kitchen counter. once he’s got you pushed up against it, he pulls your hands onto his abdomen, staring dangerously into your eyes.

though you wouldn't want to admit it, you can’t help but feel a growing ache between your legs at the feeling of those shredded abs of his. his body is something different. toji’s eyes flicker up and down from your hands and back to your eyes, a smug grin laying across his face at how small your hands are on his big, muscular body. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, your tough and bratty facade slowly diminishing as you leisurely began lifting toji’s shirt, a satisfied hum escaping his lips at your compliance; though it took rather longer than he wanted.

you now have got quite the nice look at his abs, and there goes the throbbing sensation again in your cunt. fuck… he’s hot. “yeahh, now you got that mouth shut, huh? drooling and gawking over my body. hah, go on then.” toji boasts, his teeth showing through that damn smirk. you’re unable to hold it in any longer, your hands dragging toji’s shirt up as he pulls his head out, letting the fabric drop to the ground with your stomach churning at the sight of his bare upper body. you quickly kneeled, your composure flying right out the window. 

your mouth latches onto his lower stomach, your tongue roaming along his skin. if your eyes peered a bit lower, you’d be able to get a peek at the growing bulge in toji’s sweats. you can hear slightly muted curses coming from under his breath, and you were being sloppy with it, your lashes batting as you looked up at him. your tongue started traveling upward, just barely reaching his chest until a grunt-like huff is let out from toji.

he now pulls you off by the hair, coaxing a small gasp for your lips. “fuck .. you’re putting that slutty mouth on my cock now.” he mutters, reaching for his pants before you take care of them for him, eagerly dragging them down along with his boxers, his girthy length springing right out.

without another second to waste, your tongue lolls out, one of your hands wrapped around the base of his dick while you slapped the tip on your wet muscle, drawing a throaty grunt from him. he loved it when you put on a show for him like that. you then take him all the way in, a nasty moan slipping from your throat at the way his big cock had given you a whole mouthful. saliva drips down from your lips, and you begin bobbing your head up and down, the lewd noises blaring in your ears. 

“shiiit… look at you. fuckin’ pacified by this dick, huh?” his voice is gruff yet slightly shaky, and god… you’re obsessed with hearing his noises, how you make him feel. “one minute she’s yappin’ like a bitchy little brat, next minute she’s mmf— taking this dick down her throat like a dirty slut... tch.” his words had your pussy leaking, you can feel your panties beginning to soak. your eyebrows curled inward as you kept your eyes on him, tears threatening to prickle at the corners of your eyes from how full he was stuffing your mouth, hitting your uvula.

in the middle of sucking him off, you pulled up your shirt with one hand, just enough for your tits to show out. now both your hands begin to fondle with your tits as you continue to suck him off, and this draws a long ass moan from toji, watching you slobber on him with no hands had him fucked. you can see how his lower abdomen was caving in with each breath he took, and that's when he takes a hold of your jaw, pulling you off of him, your lips sliding off with a pop. you had him on the brink of cumming, and he didn't want to just yet. he needed your pretty pussy.

you lick your lips with a smile, standing up on your feet as toji hoists you up by the waist, propping you up onto the counter. he hauls your shorts down in an instant, a string of your slick following your panties and toji sneers at the sight. “pretty pussy’s all wet f’me, hm?” you nod eagerly, and he slides a thumb down your clit, causing your hips to jerk, which has him chuckling to himself yet again. “mhmm… relax yourself, needy girl.” 

toji hikes your legs up, your hands hooking beneath your knees so you could hold them up for him. he gets between your legs, blowing on your clit and prompting you to clench around nothing. “tojiii…” you drag his name out in a whine, before toji kisses on your pussy.

“didn’t i tell you to relax? don’t fuckin’ ‘tojiii~’ me.” he mocks, finally diving in to your heat, his tongue delving right between your folds. your head immediately falls back, your lips parting open while lewd little mewls flee from your lips. he’s a messy eater, a mixture of your arousal and his saliva smearing all over your pussy lips and drizzling down his chin. it’s slurp after slurp, your body twitching with no stop, your eyes rolled back to your skull with your toes curling. “ohh, fuuck… toji–!” you croak out, your thighs shaking as you start to fail to hold your legs up, his mouth had you stupid already. as he notices this, he holds them for you with force, but throws him over his shoulders.

 because now he's standing again, spitting on your cunt one last time before he does so. “keep those eyes on me when i fuck this pussy, you hear me?” toji says, and you quickly nod in abidance. 

he’s so fucking girthy, his thick length stretching you like elastic. his veined hands grasp at your waist, his hips starting to snap into yours at a steady pace. he’s reaching deep, hitting all the right spots inside you that triggered the sluttiest moans from you, your back arching as your walls clamp down on him. “only now you wanna get your shit together, hmm? only when i stuff you full of this dick?” he grunts, the sounds of your skin slapping blasting all throughout the place. “mngh–! y-yeah… feels so g-good…!” you blabber, the tears you had poking through your eyes were now starting to blur your vision. his cock was just made to fuck you, he felt so damn good.

“h-hah… that’s what i thought.” he grumbles, the pace of his thrusts immediately escalating. now the next thing he does drives you fucking mad. he grabs your arms, pulling them up so that they’re around your neck. he then snakes his hands beneath your legs and now has them over his forearms, letting your feet dangle. he’s got you off the counter, and starts fucking you standing, picked up in his arms. a squeal breaks loose from your mouth, your arms clinging around his neck for dear life. “oh m’god, yes–! ‘m cumming, d-daddy!” you cry out, your body going limp like a ragdoll, like a toy just for toji to fuck relentlessly. 

you can feel that coil in your lower stomach that's just mere seconds away from snapping. and he does this thing when he’s close, his jaw clenches and you can see how the veins in his neck contract. that gives you the sign to clench around him even harder, a loud groan breaking out his throat.

“fuckin’ milking my shit when you s-squeeze me like that… holy fuckkk, baby—” toji’s breathing is uneven, coming out in raspy huffs. and it's only a matter of time before you let out your final moan, a real salacious one at that. you shook violently, gasping for air as you squirted all over him, your orgasm hitting you like a damn bus.

toji’s jaw goes slack, his head falling back as he chases his own high, still ramming into you despite you being fucking gone. tears start to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation, your eyes barely even able to stay open properly. 

his load finally spills into your cunt, coming in thick, hot spurts. he twitches inside you, before placing you back down onto the counter and pulling out slowly, his cum oozing from your hole. he steps forward and cups your face, pressing a kiss on your nose before letting his forehead rest atop yours. “you alright, pretty?” he murmurs, and you look up into his eyes, nodding slowly with a soft smile. he grins, wiping the tears that stained your supple cheeks with his thumb.

“you did real good f’me, baby.” he murmurs, his words going straight to your core, fluttering in your stomach. he then catches your eyes wandering away, staying on the ground. he then turns to look as well, and his eyes fall upon the absolute mess made of the floor. it was the coffee you had threw at him, now mixed with your squirt. oh, fucking hell.

“... well, good luck with that, sweetheart.” toji says, laughing to himself as you land a smack to his arm.

“oh, fuck you toji!”

#toji x reader #anime #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #toji x y/n #anime smut #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jujustu kaisen smut #呪術廻戦

[literaila]

house rules (roommate au)

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary:

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else."

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, slight angst, mentions of tampons (terrifying), suggestive comments, absurdly long, alternate universe characters

a/n: to all of my frequent readers--i have never claimed to be sane :)

*

in the broad spectrum of things, opening the door in nothing but your bathrobe and a ridiculously bright orange clay mask is not the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you. 

oh no, puking on your first ever date at seventeen definitely takes the cake. finding your seventh-grade friends bent over a table reading your diary--in which you wrote many explicit things about them, not to mention, yourself--might be even worse. riding your bike into the pond by your house in front of all of your--much older, much cooler--neighbors, even. picking up your coffee in your favorite cafe and spilling it, which was not only devastating but humiliating because you managed to spill your mocha on every other drink waiting there (effectively banning you from returning) still haunts your dreams. even walking down the street and trying to pretend like you didn't just trip over air in front of every single one of your peers still lingers in your mind, waiting for a moment of peace before it attacks.

you're used to the feeling of dread in your stomach and the nights spent thinking about all of these moments, like a scrapbook in your mind--just there to make your skin itch. 

but, it does get a little bit worse when you realize the man you've opened the door to is none other than a potential roommate; and when you remember that you forgot he was coming. 

or when you have to pull your robe tighter around your abdomen just to make sure that you don't give this man a show before you even shake his hand. 

"is this apartment 214?" he asks, looking right at you--and your legs, naturally--with a confused grin on his face, but grin nonetheless. 

so immediately you slam the door. 

you turn around, with wide eyes, face crackling from the movement, and check your phone frantically. yes, it is the 18th, and yes it is 11:32, which means he was supposed to be here over a half-an-hour ago. 

and also you've just slammed the door in his--satoru gojo, the only person who's even bothered to respond to your ad about an available room--face. 

oh, fuck. 

so you groan, refraining from knocking your head against the door just in case he can still hear, and open it again. a little bit less this time. 

"gojo?" you ask, voice rough and slightly irritated. 

"the one and only. i'm pretty sure this is the right apartment," he says, and you don't fail to notice his tone of voice as he continues, "but if it's not, then fate must've brought us together."

you narrow your eyes, hoping that he doesn't notice the specks of dust that ebb from your skin. "you're late." 

"and you're less than dressed." 

"i thought you stood me up." 

he snorts. "so you started an impromptu spa day? or was this supposed to be another perk of the apartment?" 

you glower, opening the door a bit more just so he can see the fury in your eyes. "i don't think someone who doesn't even text to cancel has any right to judge my self-care practices." 

"i didn't cancel. i'm here." 

"you're late." 

"so i've heard..." he drawls. 

you blink at him, and he blinks back--or at least, you're assuming. because he's wearing sunglasses even though it's cloudy outside. 

and he's aggressively taller than you. he might not even fit through the door. 

you don't look away, waiting for him to break. which he does because you're well-practiced in men of his standard. "so, are you going to let me in?" he asks. 

"are you going to apologize for being late?" 

"i'm sorry that i'm late," he says, immediately, with an air of fake sincerity. "i got stuck in traffic. i would've called, but my phone died." 

"really?" 

the smile reappears, as if from magic. "no, but did it make you want to let me in?" 

you glare even harder--which is tough, honestly--and begin to shut the door. until your plan is interrupted by a foot. "excuse you," you say, to this man, who you already hate. and his stupid chelsea boots.

"look, i'm sorry. i'm trying to ease the tension--because honestly i wasn't expecting to get an eyeful this early in the morning, and you seem uncomfortable--" 

you slam the door against his foot again. 

gojo doesn't even wince. "and also, you're, like, the only person with a room in the middle of october. and i... could really use a place to put my bed. so, can i look around, at least? i'll keep my eyes closed every time i'm facing your direction. i can even give you my rent money today if it works out."  

something in his voice already implies that it will. 

and, well. despite your very short robe and your very dry face mask, he is the only person who's even inquired about the room. and you desperately need a roommate; someone to clean up with, someone to make coffee for, someone to argue about toilet paper direction with, and, most importantly, someone who has money and can keep you from getting evicted from the only place you've lived since high school. 

so you sigh. think about moving back home and suffering at the will of your parents. 

it takes about three seconds to say, "will you wait out here while i get dressed?" 

an eyebrow peeks out from behind the sunglasses, as white as his hair. "how long?" 

"ten minutes. maybe twenty." 

"do you have a chair?" he asks and moves his foot from the door. 

and so you close it without answering and rush to your room to find something that's still clean. 

there's nothing that you'll actually wear, but satoru gojo doesn't deserve your fresh appearance anyway. he can have day-old wrinkled jeans and a t-shirt you got when you were twelve. 

as slow as humanly possible, you remove the face mask, trying to keep your hair out of the way, and think about putting on makeup--which you probably would have done, had you remembered he was even coming--but decide not to. 

in reality, it only takes about seven minutes for you to look mostly presentable and get rid of the mugs you left cluttered around the dining room table. 

but you wait an extra four, just to mess with him. 

and then, eleven minutes later, you open the door again to the man leaning against the wall, playing what looks like candy crush on his phone. 

you attempt a fake smile. 

"hey," he says, with that same grin, "you have clothes." 

you drop your face. "i will close this." 

he isn't phased, just pockets his phone and leans in to look behind you at the entryway. 

you roll your eyes, but open the door anyway, and usher him in. he rubs his feet against your welcome mat and toys with a keychain you have hanging from a coat rack, then looks to you, like he's waiting for a tour. which, you guess, he is.

"there's only two rooms, one bath. it's not very big, so if you need a lot of space..." 

"i can manage," he says, and follows you as you walk into the kitchen. "did you decorate?" 

"um... sort of." 

"sort of?" 

"i, uh, had a roommate before and he bought most of the decorations before i moved in. but i've added a few things. i'm not picky about aesthetics." 

gojo hums. "why'd he move out?" 

"we were together and he cheated on me," you say, flatly, as you have been for the past month and a half. "and then told me i couldn't use his netflix account anymore after i broke up with him." 

gojo merely blinks and gestures toward the wall behind you. "so you didn't buy that dancing frog thing?" 

you turn around, rolling your eyes. "no. i forgot that was there." 

"okay, good, 'cause that's hideous." 

you snort, but nod your head and walk down the hallway. gojo's footsteps follow you as you open the door to his potential bedroom. "it's the bigger of the two," you tell him, "but the bathroom is next to mine." 

"did you change rooms?" 

"what?" 

"when your ex moved out. why take the smaller one?" 

"oh," you rub a finger against the wall, rubbing dust off of it. "it was his room before we got together. and then we shared my current room. this was his man... den?" you try, shaking your head. "gaming room? slaughterhouse?" 

gojo snorts. 

"what?" 

"oh, nothing," he says, airy like he's teasing you. "just curious."

you step back so he can walk around, check the carpets for stains, or look for drywall you could've hidden a body behind. but he doesn't, only watches you as you furrow your brows. 

"you're not going to look around?" 

"it looks like the pictures." 

"yeah, but what if there are, like, bugs in the carpet? blood on the walls?" 

"are there bugs in the carpet?" he asks. "blood on the walls?" 

"not that i know of..." 

"great, then it's perfect," he says, and steps out of the room again, whistling as he goes. 

this time, you follow him, like he's the one giving the tour. 

he pauses at the door a couple of feet down. "this your room?" 

"yes." 

"can i see?" 

you scowl. "no. what do you mean 'it's perfect?'"

"i mean, i'd like to live here. it's nice. besides the frog." 

you lean against the wall, trying to inspect him for any mechanical parts. is this a ploy? some joke? "you've barely been here five minutes." 

"twenty with all the time i waited outside..." 

"you can't just take one look and say 'yup, this is good.'" 

"can't you?" he asks, challenging. 

"no." 

gojo's grin seems to widen, impossibly. "well, i'm not picky." 

and somehow you doubt that. 

but you don't get the chance to tell him that, or anything else, because he leans against the wall, still smiling at you, and asks, "so, are we roommates now?" 

"you haven't even seen the lease. or heard about the house rules." 

"house rules?" he repeats, dubiously. like you're making this up (which you are). 

"yes." 

"such as?" 

"no..." you pause, 'cause this is a fickle argument. something about his stupid smile makes you want to argue with him. or maybe it's the hair. or the sunglasses. "murdering anyone in the apartment." 

he laughs, unexpectedly, and sighs. "well, i guess i'll take my murdering someplace else." 

"and... you can't leave any utensils in the sink." 

"okay." 

"and i'm not cleaning up any beard shavings, or sharing my tampons with you, or any people you have over." 

"these are very extensive," he says, unserious. "anything else?" 

"i..." your brows furrow. "no hogging the bathroom. hot water is fickle. and you have to recycle." 

"it might be challenging, but we'll figure it out." 

"these are not negotiable." 

he only continues to smile at you. 

eventually, after staring back with a frown that feels slightly permanent for more than a minute, you sigh again. at least you won't have to worry about moving out. 

"fine. you still want to live here?" 

"mmhmm." 

"okay," and you stick your hand out for him to shake like this is a business transaction. 

and it seems that you'll be seeing a lot more of that grin in the future. 

*

living with satoru gojo is not... well, it's not hard. he's a normal enough roommate. 

he pays his rent on time and doesn't touch the coffee you make in the morning most days--coughing when he does. he man spreads on the couch and watches movies way too loud and doesn't hang his bag up at the door, preferring to, instead, set it on the counter like a maniac. he whistles when he walks, and wears his stupid sunglasses 80% of the time, and grins at you when you're irritated, and, honestly, he's not really half bad. 

he doesn't leave any huge messes for you to clean up (mostly because he doesn't use the kitchen or the dining table ever). he doesn't invite people over that keep you up all night (because he's gone most nights). and, actually, he keeps the bathroom quite clean (even if he takes up well more than half of the shower space with his weird face creams and deep conditioning treatments). 

but satoru gojo is hard. 

it's not what he does, but rather who he is. with his infuriating good looks--taking up most of the fair share for the rest of the population--and his subtle charm, which, if you didn't know who he was, might actually work on you, and his morning voice and his messy hair and just the way he lives. 

like breathing is just what he's supposed to be doing. like he doesn't need to worry about a thing because nothing should matter if he decides he doesn't want it to. 

so easygoing and naturally intuitive and far too exhausting for you. 

because, as a fatal flaw of your own, you love to mess with him. somedays you'll hope he shows up just so you have someone to fight with. just so you'll be irritated instead of stressed, frustrated instead of exhausted. 

it's kind of addicting, in a way. and masochistic, but you've never claimed to be completely sane. 

and honestly, gojo's just asking for it. 

after a mere month of living with his aura around, you come to expect his cockiness. you live to take him down a notch.

so when he's up this early in the morning, whistling like it's his god-given right, you scowl at him just as he enters the room. 

"woah," he says, sliding on a bar stool in front of you. "starting early this morning?" 

"you're banned from talking to me until noon." 

"is this about the ice cream i ate? cause there was only a little left..." 

"no it's--" you pause, frowning at him. "you ate my ice cream?" 

he lays his entire torso on the counter, pathetically. "i was dying, okay? low blood sugar was going to kill me, and i couldn't see anything else but that ice cream and it wasn't even very good anyway, so, really, i was saving you from having to endure the rest of it." 

"you ate my ice cream?" you repeat. 

"i'll buy you more. a better kind. and then you'll understand that i was doing you a favor." 

"i might kill you." 

"i thought we banned homicide from the apartment." 

"i was going to eat that," you whine, shoving his hands away from trying to grab your mug. 

he smiles, too bright for so early in the morning. "yesterday you told me sweets weren't an appropriate breakfast." 

you scoff. "yeah, cause that's all you eat. you need a green smoothie or something in the morning just to keep your heart beating for the rest of the day."

"my heart beats very well, thank you. wanna feel?" 

you roll your eyes and sigh into your mug. "i'll be expecting three pints of ice cream as an apology later tonight." 

gojo has already moved on, typing away on his phone, probably to some groupies he manipulated into loving him. "i can't. it's flip night at laurent's tonight, and suguru has already threatened me into coming." 

"why did you say laurent's like i'm supposed to know what you mean?" 

"laurent's," he repeats, looking at you.

you blink. 

"the bar?" he questions, like you're crazy. 

"okay, sorry, i don't exclusively hang out at bars filled with frat boys." 

"it's very sophisticated,” he corrects, his frat boy nature very obvious. “i mean, i frequent there." 

you laugh. 

"clearly you've never been." 

"i'm still expecting ice cream." 

he sits back in his chair. "i have class all day." 

"like you've never skipped a class." 

"encouraging ditching?" he asks, mock appalled. "what kind of roommate are you?" 

"the kind that doesn't steal her roommate's food. just get one of your servants to pick it up.”

gojo waves a hand at you, and that statement, apparently. and then he types another thing into his phone—to said servants you assume—and grins again. his face must’ve missed the feeling. "how about i buy you a drink instead? you can come with me tonight. meet my friends. maybe make some of your own." 

"haha," you cross your arms. "if they're as bad as you, then i'm good." 

"you'd probably love them. they also like to torment me, even though i'm pretty and perfectly nice to them." 

"i seriously doubt that." 

his eyes--oh, yes, this early in the morning he skips the sunglasses--sparkle like gems. "i have to play wingman for suguru, but it probably won't take long. you can mingle. meet someone. i think you could use a way to relieve some of that stress." 

"oh, you mean the stress that you cause?" 

gojo grins and you realize that you've fallen into his trap. "i'm willing to help out whenever you like," he says, deviously, "you just haven't asked yet, sweetheart." 

"nor ever will," you grind out.

gojo hums and taps his fingers against the countertop. the two of you stare at each other, grin matching scowl, and eventually, he loses the contest. "so, can i plan to steal you away from eternal solitude at six?" he asks.

and just because he's right--in his weird, satoru gojo way--you nod. it might be nice to get out of the house; and meet people other than the lost freshman at work. and because you know that gojo will continue to bother you about it otherwise. he’s a very difficult person.

as if proving it, he grins all pleased with himself, so you add, "but you're buying all of my drinks." before he can get too ahead of himself. 

*

it's not nearly loud enough in this bar. as soon as you walk in, you're sure of it. 

because even with a band up on the stage, singing about loving someone or money or drugs, you can still hear gojo as he flirts with every single living thing in his twenty-foot vicinity. 

he's got his grin on, styled his hair all fancy, and his clothes are signature in the way that you've probably seen him wear the same thing fifty times. maybe in a row. 

but the people in this bar don't care. no, they flirt back like they already know who satoru gojo is. and maybe they do. 

you don't really care, but you do have to drag him along so he can show you where you're supposed to sit and tell you the names of his friends before you get drunk enough to forget. 

it takes three minutes of trailing after gojo like a lost puppy to remember that you hate going out. that you hate everything about your so-called roommate and you should've shoved his invitation down the drain along with him. 

as if gojo can hear this thought, he peeks over his shoulder, smirking at you. "enjoying the view?" he asks, and you try to trip him by stepping on his heel. 

unfortunately, he only swings around, walking backward through the crowd like it's going to part for him. 

oh, wait. it does. 

you frown at him. 

"what? you don't like the music?" he pouts because that would personally offend him, of course. 

"where are we going? i think we've passed that table four times already." 

"i have to say hi," he says like this is obvious. "it's rude to just walk into some place without greeting everyone." 

"do you own this bar?" 

"what? no." 

"then find your friends so we can sit down," you grumble, trying not to lose him in the sea of people. it's unlikely that you've ever seen a bar this packed. more like a club, honestly, but you wouldn't put it past gojo to lie. 

eventually, he does lead you to a table, announcing, with a flourish. "don't worry, everyone, i'm here," while he bows--because of course he does. "and," he adds, "i brought a stowaway." 

you peek around his shoulder to meet three people, all staring at him with the same unamused expression. one, suguru--from the many photo albums and 'trips down memory lane' gojo has bombarded you with--gives you a little wave. the other two just continue to stare at gojo. 

"everyone, this is y/n, my favorite roommate. y/n, that one is suguru," he says, pointing towards him, "which you already know. the short one is shoko, and the blonde one is--" 

"nanami," you cut in, "hey." 

gojo frowns, looking between the two of you. "you know each other?" 

"we have analytics together," you answer, sliding in to sit across them, next to gojo, naturally. "i usually cheat off of his notes." 

"she gets me coffee," nanami adds, like this information is imperative. 

gojo grins again. "why didn't you say anything nanamin?" 

"because i didn't realize." 

"who else could i have been talking about? do you know several pretty girls named y/n? you a player?" 

nanami has a very familiar frown on his face, and is about to say something when suguru seems to kick gojo under the table. "satoru, i told you to stop referring to other people as 'players.'"

gojo merely rolls his eyes. "can't fight the truth," he says.

you almost smile. almost. but your eyes drift over to shoko, who sighs. "how'd you get stuck with this one?" she asks, not harsh, but not quite soft. 

"he promised me alcohol." 

she nods knowingly. 

speaking of, you turn towards him. "you and i both know there's only one reason i'm here." 

gojo flicks your forehead, but stands up. "i'll be right back," he says, "don't miss me too much." 

and you all watch as he walks away, conveniently stopping at least four times to talk to several different people. 

you groan. "he's not coming back is he?" 

"he will," suguru says, not quite reassuringly. "probably. in an hour or so." 

you cover your eyes with your hands and listen as the three of them laugh at you. 

*

it probably is an hour or two later that you see gojo again. 

you'd fallen into smooth conversation with his friends, talking about classes, and dancing, and the fact that you all shared a common enemy. it was easy enough, talking to them, like ripples in a pond. but surely if gojo had stuck around, it would've been more of a tsunami. you could see the appeal--at least for someone like your roommate. they all seemed responsible enough. 

but shoko, after a twenty-second lull in conversation, decided she was better off drinking at home, and nanami quickly agreed. watching them, compared to gojo, disappear into the crowd was a different experience. 

you bite your cheek unnervingly, wondering if it made you a bad roommate to want to let gojo suffer here alone and walk home by himself. 

suguru pats you on the shoulder when he stands up a moment later, brushing his pants. "i'll go find satoru," he says, softly. you feel that same irritation when you realize that gojo had probably lied to you about coming here for suguru. it was almost infinitely more times likely that suguru had come here for him. "do you want me to tell him you went home?" 

"how likely is it that he'll go home with someone else and it won't matter if i wait for him anyway?" 

the dark-haired man considers this with a sly grin on his face. "if i tell him you left, he'll find someone to cling to. but if you're here he'll go home with you. probably drunk, though." 

you run a hand through your hair, waving him off. "it's fine. i'll wait, then. but tell him that the homicide clause doesn't apply to outside the apartment." 

suguru laughs, not questioning this, and walks away. 

you sit there, toying with a glass someone had left behind, watching the people around you dance like it really was a club. with absolutely no one watching. not even god, evidently.

as usual, gojo lied--even though you hadn't really believed him when he said this place was sophisticated. the clear air of stale beer and vomit is enough to prove that.

you almost laugh bitterly, but then a mop of white hair appears in the chair next to you, and his grin is wider, larger than you'd remembered. 

how long had that taken? 

"hello hello, roomie," he sings, leaning close to you. he moves his chair, shuffling across the floor so that he's near enough to touch. "i heard you were threatening me again." 

"you could hear that over the sighs of your fan club?" 

gojo giggles, like he's in on the joke. his breath falls on your face. "i like it when you tell me you're going to murder me, you know." 

"of course you do. how much did you drink?" 

"it's not the quantity," he whispers, "it's the quality." 

"your friends told me you could get drunk off of hand sanitizer." 

gojo leans back, his long legs knocking against yours. "are they spreading those rumors again?"

you kick his foot away from yours but don't say anything. his eyes seem somehow wider right now, even behind his dark shades. almost like you could see them. 

you blink, and gojo does it back. his lashes fluttering just enough to tell.

it almost makes you smile. laugh a little bit at his innocence--especially right now, when he's clearly not himself--some more unperturbed version of who he normally is (if that's even possible). he probably wouldn't even remember if you did laugh at him. but you refrain anyway. 

gojo gasps suddenly. "oh! let's go to the store. you want ice cream, right?" his elbow slides onto the table as he rests his chin on a hand. 

you kick his foot again. "i wanted a drink," you correct, "but apparently you got distracted." 

"'s not my fault," he almost slurs, sadly. 

"are you ready to go home?" 

"i'm ready to leave. so we can get your ice cream. want to share a spoon?" his grin is unabashed. you could tell him that he is a vile, disgusting creature right now and he would probably agree. 

you don't, for whatever reason. 

"i don't think anywhere's open, and i don't want to drag you around while you're this drunk." 

he taps your thigh with a finger. "hey. i'll have you know that i am a very proficient walker." 

"oh, really?" 

"learned when i was a kid and everything." 

"wow, gojo, i'm very impressed," you deadpan, and look around. "do you need to say goodbye to suguru?" 

he frowns. then points to himself. "gojo," he repeats, and into the crowd, "suguru." 

like he's an actual toddler.

you shake your head and stand up, still looking. "can you text him?" 

"i guess," he mumbles, getting out his phone and almost dropping it. he frowns like this is deeply upsetting. 

so you grab it from him. "what's your passcode?" 

"one one one one." you look at him with a brow raised. "cause i'm number one," he answers, pridefully. 

you scoff, but look through his texts anyway, and tell suguru that you're taking him home--and never ever coming out with him again--and then hand it back to gojo. 

he smiles at you. you roll your eyes. 

then he grabs your hand, and begins to pull. "c'mon before they find us," he says, and it doesn't make any sense. 

but were you really expecting it to? 

*

perhaps the aftermath of drunk gojo is even more entertaining than the actual thing. 

shoko hadn't been kidding when she said he was the worst drunk--and even worse when hungover. 

how do you know this? oh, because you woke up at one in the afternoon--perfectly respectable for a saturday--and as soon as you dared to even open your door gojo was already groaning about the noise. so you slam it a little as you leave. 

there's a grunt, like a dying cat, and two minutes later he is walking into the kitchen with slits for eyes and cotton for hair. you're not sure what he's wearing--some video game shirt--but it's wrinkled enough to match your roommate's appearance. disheveled and slightly peeved, he's almost glaring at you--like he's capable of such a thing.

you try not to laugh. 

"where's the bacon?" he asks, almost slipping off of the counter as he leans on it. his hands rubbing at his eyes. 

"sorry?" 

"wheres the bacon?" he repeats, his voice a different register this morning. "i need emergency bacon." 

"so make some. there's a pan and probably a package in the fridge." 

he whines, falling against the counter again. his natural habitat. "i can't make it, i'm dying. you really want your terminally ill roommate to cook for himself?" 

"i want my overdramatic roommate to act like an adult for a change." 

he blows a raspberry, and his face is hidden beneath the tile of your table. you can only see his hair, which looks surprisingly soft for his state. 

"did you lose some pigment in your hair?" 

gojo snaps up, immediately, gasping. he pulls a strand so he can look at it, blinking rapidly. his panic quickly fades, and he blows the strand out of his eyes. "it's just dirty." 

"from what?" 

"i forgot to buy new bedsheets," he grumbles, once again hiding his face. 

"your bedsheets are dying your hair?" you ask, with a raised brow. 

"they're dirty," he repeats, rolling his eyes as he sits up. "i need to go to the store." 

"um..." you look at him as he slumps against his own body, feeling greatly concerned for his survival abilities. "you buy new bedsheets?" you confirm, "instead of washing them?" 

he waves a hand, blowing you, and your clearly audaious sentence away. "bacon," he says, flatly. 

you roll your eyes. "pan," you point, "stove." 

gojo looks like he might start crying.

and it might be his state or the fact that you don't think you've ever seen him like this--in the month you've known him--all lost and confused and a little bit ruffled at the edges. gojo's snark is usually in its top form when you see him in the morning. 

so, just this once, you grab a pan, and turn on the burner. 

"i'll be expecting payment for my time," you say, as you grab the bacon from the fridge. 

and maybe you get your first real smile from your roommate. 

*

you're lying on the couch reading a book when he appears, swarming like a fly. 

"hello, roommate," he says, uncharacteristically pleasant, and then he sits on your legs. you try to kick him, but it proves futile because apparently he's a giant, so you wiggle your way out from under him and sit up, frowning. 

"don't you have a room?" you ask. 

"i could ask you the same thing," gojo tries to tickle your feet, but you move them away before he can. your frown turns into more of a glare. "what?" he asks, "we can't hang out?" 

"no." 

gojo pouts. "but we're roommates," he says as if it's an explanation. like being roommates binds your souls and forever intertwines the two of you. 

"we are roommates because i had an extra room and you had money. that doesn't seem like thrilling grounds for friendship." 

"well, how about the fact that i let you use my hair dryer the other day?" he lays down on the other side of the couch, smirking at you. "that's a friendly thing to do." 

"that's the polite thing to do. i'm trying to train you. speaking of which..." you point towards the floor, "down boy." 

he takes off his sunglasses, throwing them on the coffee table--which probably explains the broken mug pieces you found in the trash the other day--and lays back with his arms behind his head. his eyes are closed. "i can't be trained." 

"clearly." 

you sigh and relax in your corner of the couch, picking up your book again. his presence lurks like a nightmare, but, you figure, eventually, he'll get bored. 

you just can't entertain him. it's like the advice you'd give to a kid being bullied: they only care about your reaction... 

as if proving your point, after twenty-seven seconds of silence, he opens one eye, peeking at you. "whatcha reading?" 

"a book." 

he plucks it right out of your hands, inspecting the cover. how he got across the couch in 0.2 seconds, you don't know. 

"what is this?" he asks, snickering a little. "word porn?" 

you take it back. "it's called romance, gojo. not that i'd expect you to be familiar with anything of the sort." 

he smirks, laying back down. "i have references if you need proof." 

you shake your head, flipping him off, and continue to scan the words on your page without retaining any information. 

seriously, his presence is impending doom itself. 

"it's okay," he whispers, "you don't need to be embarrassed. everyone craves intimacy." 

"i crave my fist on your face." 

he snorts. "that's not very friendly." 

you sigh, dropping the book again so you can look at him and his obnoxious eyes. "look, i'm tired, it's been a long week, and if you don't leave me alone i'll probably lock you outside." 

"probably?" 

"it's that or throwing you out the window." 

gojo laughs once again, but mimes zipping his mouth shut. you roll your eyes and open your book again. your feet are entwined, but you don't mock this--if only because you're sure that gojo will start an argument about it.

the quiet lasts for two minutes and then he turns on the tv. 

you groan and he laughs at you.

*

you're getting used to having him around, at least. and in turn, his friends. because they seem to be a package deal. 

after that night at the bar, gojo--apparently--feels much more comfortable having them over. trying to bake cookies with shoko or interrupting what's supposed to be a study session between the four of them. 

at least, you think, watching this happen, that you're not the only person forced to endure him. 

but it's kind of... nice to see him act like a normal person, for once. to get teased by someone other than you and pout like a begrudged younger brother. the person who invites his friends over for game night (getting aggressively angry every time he loses) isn't satoru gojo, the man whom everyone is drawn to. he isn't some drunk guy charming everyone around him or a roommate that you just happened upon. 

he's just another college student, laughing along with people who aren't nearly as bad as him. 

and, naturally, you find yourself intertwined with these 'hang-outs' because the apartment is small, and you don't want to be left out--no, you choose not to think about how pathetic it is that satoru gojo has more friends than you do, so please don't bring it up. 

and it's on this night when you're not playing uno with the four of them, but rather, watching behind all of their backs and trying to mess with gojo as much as possible. 

you pretend to be idly cleaning in the kitchen, when really you're standing behind him, mouthing to suguru what color he has whenever he's about to win. 

"hmm," the sly-mouthed man says this time, "green." 

shoko puts down a seven, and gojo groans again. "seriously?" he asks, but begins drawing cards. 

you try--and fail--not to giggle behind him. to which, of course, he turns around with an obvious glare in his eyes. "what are you doing?" 

the sink isn't on, and there are no dishes to be seen in the kitchen. nonetheless, you point uselessly to the roll of paper towels on the counter. "cleaning." 

"you're cleaning air?" 

"sorry, i didn't realize i was banned from loitering in my own home." 

he turns back around, looking at suguru for a moment, then back at you. it's very hard to keep the smile off of your face, especially when nanami looks like he's about to break and shoko is pretending to rifle through her cards again. 

how many times have you done this to him? oh, just a mere eight. 

to be fair, it would've ended a long time ago if gojo wasn't such a sore loser. 

he looks back and forth once more. then he frowns. "what are you doing?" 

"do you want me to go hide in my room, gojo?" you ask, trying to scowl. "because i will. i was just trying to be hospitable--" 

"nanamin," he interrupts. "go." 

so another round of cards is placed, and this time suguru plays normally, keeping his face straight to not draw any suspicion. you lean against the wall, enjoying yourself. 

(don't tell anyone, but this is the most fun you've had in a while). 

and then, after a couple of rounds go by, you finally clear your throat. gojo turns to glare at you through his sunglasses and says "go stand behind suguru if you're going to watch. i don't trust you." 

you raise your brows but do as he says. 

and when shoko has to draw the next time, you smile and tap a couple of times on your thigh. 

suguru does his best impression of gojo's grin, and says, "draw four," to shoko. 

she smiles back. turns to gojo. "draw four," she repeats. 

and he stares at the two of them, then the cards stacked on top of each other, and then to you, right across him. "what are you doing? i know you're doing something." 

"satoru, she's just watching--" 

"no, she's smiling." he looks back to you, "you're smiling. you don't do that unless i'm in pain." 

"so you just assume that you're losing cause i'm... what? drawing your cards for you? shuffling the stack so only you get the bad hands?" you cock a brow at him, willing yourself not to look at anyone else at the table. it would only end in disaster. 

"i--" gojo runs a hand through his hair. then he sighs and begins drawing his eight cards. 

and several rounds later--with gojo losing once again--you've begun moving around the table like you're inspecting each player. gojo doesn't let you look at his cards though. 

and it takes a while before he notices anything. particularly after suguru wins for the third time in a row. 

he looks at everyone--brows pulled together, irritated eyes hiding behind his sunglasses, and his cheeks are flushed from how frustrated he is--and as soon as you start laughing at his face, everyone else does too. suguru throws his cards down and shakes his head. nanami shuffles the deck while trying to keep his laugh muffled--but it's there. and shoko is outwardly laughing at him, pointing at gojo and then at you. 

"are you guys stealing the cards?" he asks, almost disbelieving, his voice so childlike that you start laughing even harder. "look at the deck! it's half the size that it was." 

and then he's standing up and inspecting you, sticking his hands up your sleeves and finding dozens of cards hiding there, falling onto the floor. 

gojo gasps in outrage, but it doesn't even matter to you. 

everyone else is clutching their stomachs and gojo begins to pout. "you're all traitors," he's saying, and "how long have you been doing that?" and you almost can't breathe-- 

so yeah. you don't really mind these kinds of nights. and you don't complain about the messes gojo and his friends leave behind. 

*

you shouldn't have given suguru your number. this much is obvious. 

but, to be fair, you weren't exactly thinking when you were talking to him about a self-help book you'd picked up, and he was mentioning a podcast, and then he was taking your phone and putting himself in it--which, in itself, should not be dangerous--telling you that he'd send you a link and that you should let him know if you liked it, and that was that. 

and really, there shouldn't be any repercussions to this. suguru is your sort of friend, and sort of friends can text on occasion. 

except for the fact that he's also satoru gojo's friend. so when you wake up at ten--silently thanking yourself for taking a day off before a week of back-to-back classes and work--he's already texted you, and it's obvious that you failed somewhere in life. 

maybe when you accidentally invited a demon into your house and allowed him to stay. 

from suguru :p : 

hey satoru is supposed to be in class right now and he won't answer me 

can you please kick him awake? 

but maybe it wasn't a mistake. because at least you have a good excuse to give gojo a bruise. 

so you creep down the hall, reluctantly knocking on his door even though it ruins the element of surprise (you're not a monster) and listening as there's no response. 

gojo must be asleep. or dead. honestly, you might've killed him in your sleep--wouldn't be the first time. 

so you peek the door open, realizing now that you haven't been in his room since he moved in, and watch as a figure slithers under the covers almost before you notice. gojo is completely covered except for the foot he's left hanging off of the side of the bed. 

"get up," you tell him, looking around at the sparse decorations he's put up. there are books, candy wrappers, and socks all over the floor, but it's not the messiest room you've ever seen. which is slightly surprising, considering all that you know about gojo. 

he whines from under the cover, turning so you get a view of exposed skin on his back. "sleeping," he says as if you might believe him. 

so you creep over trash and textbooks and pull the blanket right off of him. 

gojo is already looking at you, pouting. his hair is in his eyes and his mouth is puffy--probably from kissing his pillow in his sleep. "what if i was naked under here?" he asks you, very seriously. "i don't let just anyone see that, you know?" 

"you're wearing the same silk pajamas you wear every night." 

he tries to pull the blanket away from you, his fingers peeling yours away. he huffs. "it's the principle. you don't just wake a man up from slumber." 

you snort. "did you travel a century in your sleep?" 

"yes, now go away." and then he falls back into the blankets, his words muffled. 

"you have class, your highness. i've been sent to fetch you." 

one eye appears from under the blanket. "how do you know my schedule?" 

"telepathy. now get up." 

"i can't," gojo fake coughs. "i'm sick." 

"suguru said you'd say that." 

he groans, turning over and muffling a few explicit words that sound like a curse upon his best friend. 

you poke his back. "did you sleep through your alarm?" 

he doesn't answer. his body has gone limp like you might not notice that he's there if he stays still for long enough. so you pull his hair, turning his head towards you. "you're not usually this whiny in the morning," you tell him. 

"why are you so mean to me?" 

you hum, pretending to consider it. "i think it's the hair. i find it pretentious." 

"i could sue you. discrimination is very serious. i've got a good lawyer, too."

"i'll sue back for mental damages." 

he laughs, and wiggles from your grasp. 

you sigh and finally sit down at the edge of his bed, observing the lollipops he's left lying on his bedside table. gojo's bones seem to crack as he sits up with you, moaning the whole way. 

you're silently observing him--with his slightly red eyes and heinous mouth. you're not used to seeing him like this in the morning; usually, he's chipper and annoying. when he walks into the kitchen in the morning you half expect him to start singing. 

but this gojo is tired. he rubs at his eyes. "did suguru text you?" 

"yup." 

"he's a terrible friend." 

you nudge him, almost like an agreement. "why aren't you in class?" 

"what's even the point of going? it's not like i get a reward."

"i think the reward is graduating, but you might have to fact-check that one." 

he nudges you back and then takes your hand. his fingertips are soft as they trace the tendons and veins he can see on your skin. his hands are softer than you'd have expected. his eyes are wary as they look towards the floor, his mouth twisting in displeasure. but he doesn't stop touching you, he does so idly that you almost don't notice. "i have an a in the class," he tells you, "and i already know most of the material so why would i go to every lecture?" 

maybe it's the way he says it; so sure and nonchalant, in his typical over-dramatic fashion. maybe it's just that he's never mentioned any of his classes to you, or the fact that he's taking any. maybe he's just crazy--that's the most likely option--but you're suddenly curious. 

"what class is it?" 

"theoretical physics." 

you whistle, shaking your head. "and you already know most of it?" 

gojo drops your hand and looks at you. his eyes are wide. maybe he's just realized that he's been talking to you this whole time. "when i was a kid my, uh, my dad had a bunch of textbooks in his office that i used to read through every time i got in trouble," he grins, "which was a lot." 

"i can imagine." 

"well, it turns out you can only read something so many times before it becomes ingrained in your brain." 

you pull at his bedsheet. "do you have a test today, or something?" 

"no, suguru just thinks i'm lazy." 

you laugh, because he is. gojo rolls his eyes at you so you don't say it. you're a little bit surprised, actually. you knew that gojo wasn't stupid (or at least, you might've known) but there's something about the proof of it. like you can't just read right through him. like maybe there's still more to learn about your roommate and maybe there always has been. 

or maybe you're just tired, and he's always had the strange ability to draw irrationality out of you. and also he's an idiot.

"i just..." he starts and his smile fades, but only a little bit. he keeps a layer on while he peels a layer off. "i mean, i like the class. math is cool. but i just don't feel like it today, you know?" 

and there's something about his voice as he says it. steady and true, as always, but softer. but compeltely honest. 

and you've heard him complain about a million things, like every time you and suguru talk about something he doesn't understand or when the door isn't unlocked when he gets home, or when you won't add his one shirt to your laundry. you've heard every whine and every groan come from his lips. 

but he's not complaining about this. just confiding. 

and there's such a drastic difference that it takes you a moment to respond. 

but you do eventually. "yeah, i know," you tell him and rest a hand on his thigh to squeeze. 

and the way that gojo looks at you after--like you might just be saying it to make him feel better--is perplexing. his eyes are blue and maybe you've just noticed this--just started to realize that you're actually sitting with him like a normal person. and that he actually looks grateful. 

you shake your head, willing yourself to look away, because maybe there is something sort of magnetic about your roommate. and it feels impossible to only have noticed this now. to realize how warm he is next to you, and how your muscles tense up when he shifts. gojo is looking at you, and it might be the first time.

so you stand up, flicking his chin. "i'll tell suguru that you're puking your guts up." 

"really?" 

"yup. but next time you sleep through a class i'm going to wake you up by pouring ice water on your face." 

he grins. "cruel." 

"and i'll record it." 

you step over candy wrappers and dirty socks as you leave his room, and as soon as the door is closed you sigh in relief. you're probably better off never opening that door again.

*

it's a ridiculously cold night when he shows up. 

you're sitting at the front desk in the library, pretending to study for a mid-term, and trying to smile at the fifth lost library card you've heard about tonight. you got this job at the beginning of the year, and it pays horribly. but at least you can sit around and study, most weekends it's quiet enough to take a nap, and no one tends to bother you when you're drooling all over the reception desk. 

most weekends, that is, because as soon as he walks in through the door--letting in air so brisk that it has the potential to kill you--it gets significantly louder. 

because satoru gojo is not affected by trivial things such as snow, or blizzards, or the fact that the library is supposed to close in less than ten minutes... 

still, you don't really notice him--a rare circumstance that you will question later that night--until he's right next to you, breathing in your ear. 

"slacking on the clock?" he asks, and just for a moment, you almost disembowel him with the pen you're holding in your hand. 

but then you grunt, used to this sort of intrusion from your roommate, and push his head away. "how did you find me?" you ask him, because, honestly, this job is just an escape from his neverending antics at your house (no, it doesn't matter that you got the job before you knew that such an annoying person could possibly exist). 

"i microchipped you in your sleep," gojo says, smoothly, sitting in the chair right next to yours, swiveling around. "i thought i told you about that?" 

you blatantly look at the clock and ignore him. "you know that the library closes in seven minutes?" 

"...and?" 

"so go torment someone else," you answer, standing up with a stack of fileable papers, "i'm busy until eight." 

"i'll help," gojo says, eager as always, and takes half of your stack. "where to?" 

it is from two months of experience that you know he will not leave you alone. even if you chew off his fingernails and keep them to make into necklaces, gojo will follow you around as long as you make it clear you don't want him to. 

so you walk towards the copying room, smiling at all of the sleep-deprived students you pass by and rolling your eyes when gojo does the same. 

"how did you even find the library?" 

gojo walks like he has absolutely no equilibrium; knocking into you every couple of steps, and then falling in the other direction. it must be a consequence of all of his strenuous leaning. 

so he bumps into you as he replies, "tracker," like it's obvious. 

you snort. "no, seriously. i didn't think you knew that libraries existed. aren't you allergic to reading?" 

"hey!" he tries to trip you. "i'll have you know that i am very studious. top of my class." 

"that's why you pay suguru to write your papers for you, right?" 

gojo makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "he doesn't write them," he grumbles. "well, not all of them." 

you snort and open a door for him to follow through.

"my study group meets here on wednesdays," gojo answers, finally. 

"you're a part of a study group?" 

"where do you think i go all of the time?" 

you briefly consider this, setting the papers down. "cemeteries to mourn all of the people you've annoyed to death, probably. or your girlfriend's house." you shrug.

gojo sets his stack on top of yours, diligently lining them up. "i don't do that every night," he drawls, rolling his eyes. and then he winks at you. "and i don't have a girlfriend. thanks for asking." 

you mess up his stack and turn away from him. "sorry, i meant girlfriends as in plural. girlfriends." 

"nope, again." 

gojo follows closely behind you as you begin to lock up all of the spare rooms, turning off lights and looking for any lost items. "commitment issues?" you ask, fake sympathy clouding your voice. 

"sweetheart, if you want me, then just say that. you don't need to pretend to worry about anyone else." his cockiness is infuriating, but you don't even bother to scold him for it. you turn towards him with sharp eyes.

"do i seem worried to you?" 

"no, but you're a bad actor," gojo hums, fingertips grazing along your skin as he inspects your face. "denial is serious. you might want to see a doctor." 

"you would know," you answer, glaring and pulling away from him. the two of you walk as people begin to trek out of the library, no longer held captive by the idea of studying. 

gojo is much too close, as usual, his sweater brushing against yours. 

"how'd you even know i was here?" you ask him, after a minute of silence. 

"please," he answers, grinning down at you. "i got a PI as soon as you gave me my key." 

you squint. "did you actually?" 

he laughs. "no. you told shoko, and shoko told me..." 

you nod, clearing the desk of your things, tossing your bag at gojo for him to carry. "so why are you here?" 

he clears his throat, unplugging the cord to your computer and wrapping it around his hand. "i was walking by, and i thought i'd see if you wanted to come with me for drinks after your shift."

"drinks?" you repeat, taking the cord from his hands. 

"flip night." 

you groan. "i am never participating in that again after what happened last time." 

"it wasn't that bad." 

"i had to drag you home and you almost threw up in my hair." 

gojo smiles. "consider yourself lucky." 

you push him out of the way and put your coat on. then you turn off the lights and push in all of the chairs, gojo not helping at all. "i didn't even get my drink," you remind him. 

"okay, so let me make it up to you."

and his voice is a bit different. still arrogant, naturally, still smiling and easy--but maybe he means it? maybe beneath his, frankly, soft exterior, he feels bad for getting drunk before you could? maybe he's not actually a complete monster? 

you laugh that thought away as soon as it comes.

you sigh. "are your friends going to be there?" 

"yes, our friends are. they suggested i invite you." 

you sigh--again, because the air is quite thin when gojo is around--and consider it. for just four seconds. but eventually, you shake your head. "i can't," you tell him, looping your arm around his so you can drag him out of the building. 

"why not?" 

"i'm tired, and i still need to study for a test on monday..." 

"do it in the morning." 

you give him a blank look. "i won't want to study if i'm hungover." 

"then don't study." 

you let go of his arm, shivering from the cold. gojo, of course, is not wearing a jacket, or even a little bit bothered by the air. "you're a terrible influence." 

he grins. "i get it from you." 

you shake your head, keeping the smile off of your face. "maybe some other time? when it's not freezing, and i don't have a big test?" 

gojo looks like he wants to argue with you some more--which he usually does--but eventually, his grin ebbs into something simple and he nods. "okay, but you have to come next time i ask." 

"no. what if i'm sick, or something?" you definitely would not put it past him to ask you as a method of torture. 

"that's what alcohol is for." he sticks out his hand, too big and too sly. 

but you relent, shaking with him, and rolling your eyes.

"okay, gojo. have fun. do not wake me up when you get home." 

and you turn to walk away, but his hand catches your wrist. "what are you doing?" he asks, brow furrowed. 

"...going home?" 

he lets go of you and flicks your forehead. "you're not walking back by yourself," he says, like it's a crime. "c'mon." 

and he falls into pace with you, even with his longer legs and fervent energy. 

"this is stupid--" you start to complain, but gojo reaches for the strap of your bag, sliding it off of your shoulder. he then slings it on his own, and pulls you in a bit closer by the hem of your jacket. 

he doesn't say anything, just shoves your hand in his pocket, and whistles as he walks you home. 

*

its a couple of weeks later when you're standing at the door again, trying not to open it more than necessary. 

but, really, how wide is too wide? will a half-opened door signal any longing? will he think that you want him back if you open it more than three inches to pass him his box of stuff that he'd left behind and take your key back? 

how do you navigate the trade-off of a frog statue that will probably haunt your dreams till the end of time? 

"key," you say, without any pleasantries, not bothering to even really look at him. 

even though he looks just the same, your ex. still the lying cheater you'd almost fallen in love with. 

is it wrong to miss his netflix password more than him? 

"thanks," he says, and you've probably been standing there with him for thirty seconds when a head appears on your shoulder. 

white hair gets in your eyes, and you try to push gojo away, but he's already intruded on this exchange and you know he's not going to leave. 

"go away," you tell him, not very softly. 

"hello," gojo holds his hand out over your shoulder, because, again, he is ridiculously tall. "i'm--" 

"key," you say again, swatting his hand away. 

your ex looks at your new roommate--with all of his charm and irritating sunglasses and perfectly shaped teeth--with obvious disdain. you want to push both of them out the door and live here by yourself forever, but unfortunately, living prices disagree. 

so you grab the key from his hand, give him a bland smile, and slam the door with gojo's fingers still in between. 

he pulls them back just in time, still almost on top of you, and smiles when you turn around with a scowl. "a friend of yours?" he asks, slyly. he's about as subtle as a third-grader.

"no." 

he messes with your hair idly, pretending to fix it. "i noticed an obvious absence where our dancing frog used to be." 

"i told you, that's not mine." 

"so you gave it away?" 

you cross your arms. he is far too close to you. "you told me it was hideous." 

"it was," he nods, vehemently, and you know his eyes are grinning at you behind those dark shades. "but now there's an empty spot on that shelf." 

"we can put your tongue there when i cut it out," you give him an innocent smile and walk past him to sit on the couch. your pocket burns with the key you put there, metal like an obvious stain on your skin. 

it's not that you care about him anymore, really. you don't, not even when you lay alone at night and think about him. it's more that... he doesn't think about you. he didn't, and he wouldn't have, even if you were still together. 

is it wrong to be wanted by someone whose opinion is worth about as much to you as a penny you could or could not pick up on the street? should you crave being cared about by someone as awful as him?

you want to throw his key in bleach. maybe take a dip yourself.

gojo follows you, throwing himself down on the couch, and brushing you as he does so. he is very used to this kind of proximity, and the annoyed look you give him. "so that was your ex?" 

"yes." 

there's a brief pause, and a nice person might leave it like that. might try to console you, tell you better off. but satoru gojo is not nice, and he probably never has been. "really?" he asks. then clicks his tongue. 

you interrupt whatever obnoxious statement is supposed to follow: "if you're about to say that there are a lot of more eligible bachelors, including yourself, then i'm going to say that you should probably make a zillow account." 

gojo pinches your thigh. "i would never say something like that." 

you look at him, just barely able to make out the shape of his eyes when he's this close. "you told me that last week when i was complaining about dating apps." 

"well, it was true then." 

you roll your eyes. 

"i wasn't going to say that anyway." 

you hum, relaxing into the hold his legs begin to have on yours. despite his abrupt and terrible personality, gojo is very warm. and he's already intruded into so much of your space--your home, your head--that it almost feels normal. 

with his thighs pushing against yours and his fingertips trailing up the back of your neck. 

you should slap him away, but you don't. 

the last person you cuddled with was the same man who gave you the greasy key in your pocket. 

you look at gojo with inquisitive eyes. "really? no bad pickup line? you were going to say something meaningful?" 

"would've blown your mind, but you interrupted..." he teases, and pulls on a strand of baby hair. 

"whatever will i do now?" 

his hand falls from your neck, and if you weren't as comfortable as you are currently, you might think about what he's doing. 

like the fact that you haven't even questioned this, or his following you around, or the fact that he knew you needed someone to pull you away from that door. 

you don't think about that, but maybe you should. 

still, his hand wraps around your shoulder, and you slump against him without question. 

"i was..." his voice is softer, calmer than you've maybe ever heard it. it should jolt you away from him. it should do anything but keep you planted on the couch right next to him. "i was just going to say that i'm glad he's an idiot." 

"getting turned on by my pain?" 

he laughs. "no, but, i mean, your pain my gain." 

you don't even notice it when he slips off his glasses, his fingers curling around your forearm. 

"where else would i find a roommate that threatens me with bodily harm?" he asks, right in your ear. 

it's true enough, you guess. and at least for a moment, you don't want to rip off his arms. 

and gojo mutters something that sounds like "stupid," but you aren't listening.

*

gojo has called in your agreement; that is the only reason you're sitting at the bar, watching him dance around with shoko--purposefully stepping on her toes--and sipping on some drink he ordered for you.

it's terribly sweet and reminds you of lotion but you drink it anyway. it's not like you bought it, and you're sure that gojo wont buy you anything else until finish it. plus it's giving you a light buzz, just enough to feel comfortable sitting there, and not like you want to run away.

it's not as busy as it was last time, the music slightly quieter, the air in the room less stiff. gojo seems less energized tonight--considering that he hasn't abandoned any of you to talk to the houseplant in the corner--even with the dancing. 

which he is terrible at. it's like watching an eight-month-old learn how to stand. or a man trying to impress absolutely no one. his limbs move like they aren't even attached to his body.

"is he drunk?" you're asking suguru and nanami--who have been sitting there longer than you have. "i didn't see him order anything." 

nanami laughs and suguru ruffles your hair. "that's satoru completely sober." 

"...are you sure?" 

"yeah, he doesn't usually drink. even that," he nods to your drink which you're sipping with a wince, "is too bitter for him." 

you raise a brow, watching shoko frown at him, and then nudge him away. "he drank last time i came, though?" 

suguru nods, looking away like he knows something you don't and nanami snorts.

"what?" 

"he was nervous last time," nanami answers. he's got less than a smile on, but it's better than the frowns you've observed sitting next to him in class. 

your brow furrows. "about what?" 

suguru is about to answer, nudging nanami not very subtly, when the very topic of conversation pops up, bumping into you as he squeezes himself in between you and suguru. his presence is an interruption in itself, but he's smiling like he always does, acting like he's been there the whole time. 

you might've pushed him away a week or two ago. now you just sigh and move a little so he can fit.

"did you miss me, sweetheart?" he asks you, leaning against suguru. "don't worry, i'll dance with you next."

"no, and i don't dance." 

gojo rolls his eyes. "everyone dances." 

you look pointedly between him and the group of people dancing in the middle of the room. an image of him almost tripping over shoko makes you smile. "well some people shouldn't." 

suguru laughs and gojo grins even wider at you--his hair is slightly sweaty and his eyes are peering at you over the glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. "let's test that theory," he says, taking a step back. his tone is nothing less than suggestive. and his fingers wiggle towards you, beckoning for you to follow.

there's a twinge in your stomach and you adjust in your seat, frowning at him. "i told you that i don't dance." 

"well, i do. and you owe me for last time." 

you balk. "owe you for what? making sure you didn't get murdered on the street?" 

gojo pouts, his face so unserious and completely genuine at the same time. "you made me dance all alone. you didn't even come watch." 

"you left me--" 

"just one dance?" he asks, leaning in towards you. his eyes are sparkling. "i'll get you another drink." 

"you'll get me that anyway." 

"i'll let you pick it this time." 

"that's usually expected, you know?" 

he ignores that, "c'mon," he pleads, "you know that you want to." 

"i don't know that, actually." 

and then someone coughs behind gojo and you realize that your friends have been listening to this entire interaction and that you'd completely forgotten they were there. how long has he been standing like that? just two inches away from your face? 

"just go, y/n," shoko says, "put the rest of us out of our misery. i've been listening to him whine all night." 

"hey--" gojo turns, his voice defensive. 

but you take another sip of your drink, sighing as you stand up. "fine," you tell him, rolling your eyes when he turns to you with a smile. "one dance, and you can't ask me for anything else tonight." 

his teeth are like rows of knives. sharp and inviting. "okay." 

he holds his hand out for you again, and you take it, feeling that strange pull in the pit of your stomach. 

it's probably just the alcohol, though. 

*

you don't know how long you've been dancing with gojo. 

it started with one dance where he didn't do anything except twirl you around and sway with you, like he'd accepted the fact that you weren't exactly light on your feet, singing along to the music in your ear, making snide remarks about where you'd placed your hands. moving them like pieces on a chess board.

his breath was hot on your ear. condensation on a glass. 

and then you'd gradually moved to letting him lead you, after who knows how many songs, following his steps and not apologizing when your foot slammed against his, or when you bumped shoulders with him, probably creating marks on your skin. 

and then his hands were on your hips, his chin resting against your shoulder, and it felt almost nice to be dancing with him. almost relaxing to forget momentarily about where you were and who you were with. it shouldn't surprise you that you're comfortable with him, but it does. there's no worry about the way you're looking at him or if anyone is watching the two of you--but then again, you might be slightly drunk. 

gojo hasn't commented on how long the two of you have been dancing, and evidently, you've let the alcohol sway you into staying for more than just another song. 

so now, with his lips on your ear, you're almost smiling into him. your heart is fast, and the adrenaline rush you're experiencing is a pleasant thing; if someone ripped out your heart right you wouldn't even notice.

"see?" gojo says, his voice just a murmur with all of the music swimming in your ears. "you're not so bad." 

it sounds like something else to you.

"you won't be saying that in the morning," you tell him, stepping on his toes, but he doesn't pull back or move too quickly. if you thought rationally about his movements you might notice that everything he's doing is slow; like you're an animal he's trying not to scare. 

"i'm used to it," he pulls back a little bit. "shoko does that too." 

"'cause you deserve it." 

he laughs and leans in, so you follow him. 

are you just swaying now? or is he leading you in something more complex? a dance you've never heard of, or a simple in and out? 

you don't know, and you really don't care. 

after a moment, you sigh. "i've never danced with anyone before," you whisper to him, almost like not saying the words at all. it might be a lie, you're not quite sure. 

your words are just thoughts now with no sort of intervention between your brain and your mouth. intoxication fills your lungs. 

"really?" 

"mhm," you hum, "no one's ever asked me." 

"i don't believe you," his voice might be teasing, or serious, or he might be barking at you.

you laugh anyway. gojo's hands are firm against your skin. he feels kind of hazy, like a dream. so you laugh again. 

"you okay?" 

"i think i might be a little drunk." 

he snorts, his breath short. "really? i didn't think you'd be a lightweight." 

"you're a lightweight." 

"yeah, but you already knew that. i only drink when we come here, anyway. nanami doesn't like having to drag me home." 

"you're heavy," you agree, looking up at him. you can see his eyelashes from under his glasses. you can see his tongue as he moves it, and the tip of his nose. you can almost feel it when he swallows.

"sorry," he teases. his face looks different under these lights. it looks different when you're looking at him this close. 

"you're kinda pretty," the words fall from your mouth as you think them, and you grin. "huh." 

it shouldn't be an odd realization, but it is. his skin is almost translucent, and his mouth is sinful. his eyes are wide and bright and satoru gojo could be a sculpture if he wasn't a man.

gojo looks down at you, his brows raised. "you just noticed?" 

"i don't look at you a lot." 

"oh, please," he shakes his head. "i've caught you staring." 

"i only stare when i'm worried that you're a robot planted by aliens or something. you say weird things." 

he laughs, and his hands squeeze your waist. he could stab you in the back right now and it wouldn't even matter. you're not even worried about it. he could flirt with you all night and you don't think you'd quite mind.

you giggle at the thought, heart beating fast with every breath that comes from him. 

"what?" 

"you're not a bad roommate, you know?" you ask him, but maybe you're asking yourself.

"i'm not?" 

"no. you're actually... kinda considerate. my old roommate--my ex--he never wanted to go anywhere with me. he wouldn't have asked me to dance." 

"why not?" 

"i think he thought i was stuck up. or embarassing. or not worth it," you breathe, almost airly, the words are true but they don't matter to you. not like this, pressed up against him. "i don't know." 

gojo's brow furrows. "how?" 

your brows furrow. "how what?" 

"how could he think you're not worth it?" he repeats, and you laugh back. because it's a joke.

"you'd have to ask him." 

"i don't think i'll ever be talking to him," he answers, voice rough. "it wouldn't be good for either of us. and i don't trust people with such terrible taste." 

you giggle at the thought of the frog sculpture, the disgusted look on gojo's face. you can almost see through him.

"you shouldn't," you answer, not even thinking.  

there's a moment where the room is quiet, everyone inhaling at the same time, and then exhaling. you feel like you fit here, somehow. like everything is moving at just the right place. this silence is a comforting feeling, the bubbles bursting in your stomach reiterating it. 

"hey," gojo says, interrupting that feeling. 

"what?" 

"you're a good roommate, too. you're not stuck up. or embarassing." 

"i'm not?" 

he smiles at you. "well, you're a little mean." 

you smile back. "only to you, satoru." 

his face drops, but you don't notice. you lean against his chest again, your eyes fluttering shut. if you were focused enough, you could feel his heartbeat. but you don't. and you don't watch as he swallows. as his voice falters, for only a single second.

but you do look at him when he says, "my friends like you." 

"they do?" 

he laughs, pushing his sunglasses back up on his face. "wasn't it obvious?" 

you shake your head. you're not sure how long you've been standing with him, or if it even matters. you're not even sure if you're still in the bar, or your bed, being covered with your blanket, tucked in by gentle hands. 

how long has it been now? 

"i like you too," gojo whispers, "just so you know." 

and you could be at home, with your roommate. you could be right next to him. it doesn't matter, because you only whisper, "good," and then it's all gone. 

*

when you wake up the next morning, gojo is already laughing at you. 

your headache is a curse. your mind is in shambles. and your body aches with the manipulation of only one person. 

you hate your roommate and his terrible taste in drinks and that he doesn't even say anything when you slump against the counter, not even bothering to make fun of you or complain about how terrible you are when you're drunk. 

he just smiles easily, ruffling your hair.  

and when he starts to cook some bacon in the pan, you don't say anything, but you go and stand next to him, letting him hold you up. 

there are no words. only the popping of oil in a pan. 

and that feeling, of course. because it wasn't the alcohol. 

*

so maybe satoru gojo is your friend. you will not admit this to anyone aloud, but you concede a little bit in your head, because it's a fragile place there, and you're a terrible liar. 

and so maybe you hang out with him sometimes. 

it's not just the game nights or study sessions anymore. you sit on the couch and play with your phone and he sits down next to you. he'll rub your feet, or massage your legs and you let him. 

only because he's kinda good at it, of course. 

and sometimes you'll turn on a movie and he'll appear out of nowhere, complaining about whatever you picked, but laying down nonetheless. and after several minutes he'll move closer to you, resting his head on your thigh. and you might play with his hair, but only because it's unreasonably soft. 

and some mornings when you wake up and make yourself breakfast, not even trying to be quiet, you'll make a little extra. but it's not for him, it's just a coincidence. 

and he stops by the library on his way home from suguru's, or some girl's house, and the two of you will walk home together, talking about class, or the weather, or whatever gojo wants. you let him do this, because it's usually dark outside, and you don't like walking home alone. 

and if he barges into your room sometimes--obviously not knocking--you only complain a little bit. and then you let him lay in your bed and mess with your things. 

but only because it's the easier option, of course. 

and you've missed the feeling of having someone near. and satoru gojo is easy to be around. 

*

"gojo," you gasp, as soon as the door opens in your face. and then you scowl. "don't you knock?" 

he pushes you so he can move past, raising a brow at you. "i live here." his hands are empty, and he's not wearing a coat again. just a weird button-up probably more expensive than your share of the rent. how he's survived over two decades, you're not sure. 

your brows furrow at him. "well, you could give some warning if you're going to kick open the door. what if you broke my nose?" 

"well, why were you standing right in front of the door when i kicked it?" gojo mimics, flicking you away, then looking down to your hands where your wallet and keys are piled up. "you going somewhere?" 

"to the store." 

"it's eleven." 

"why thank you for that update, gojo. i really appreciate it," and then you move beside him to open the door. 

but gojo grabs your hand, making sure to roll his eyes at you where you can see it, and pulls you away so he can step in front of the door. "what could you need from the store right now?" 

"i need stuff." 

he crosses his arms, uncharacteristically stern. "like what?" 

"stuff. girl stuff. you wouldn't get it." 

he gasps, mouth dropping. "oh no, did i steal too many of your tampons again?" 

"first of all, that's against the apartment rules, so you better hope not. second of all, please move," you glare at him. "i need to hurry." 

"you can't leave right now." 

"i believe there's such a thing as free will..." you try and push him away, but he doesn't budge. "and you're not the boss of me." 

"it's too late for you to walk to the store. go tomorrow." 

you cross your arms. "when have i ever listened to you?" you ask him, feeling that familiar irritation crawl up your skin. 

but then gojo is pulling your arms apart and resting them at your sides and saying "stop that," as a gentle chide. and that irritation molds. you push his hands away. 

you want to push his hands off of the edge of the earth just so that he'll never touch you again.

"seriously, gojo, i need to go. they close at midnight." 

"you can't walk to the store by yourself in the dark." 

"i can do whatever i want." 

"then i'm locking you in your room until tomorrow. you're grounded." 

you poke his shoulder. you can't decide if he's serious or not. his voice is always teasing, and you can't see enough of his eyes. and you can't trust a single thing he says. "when did you become so overbearing?" you ask him, trying not to grind your teeth. 

"when i realized how weak you are." 

"weak?" you balk at him. "i'm not weak. please retract that sentence before i accidentally punch you." 

"you can't even push me away from the door. i'll take my chances with your fists." 

"that's because you're irritating me," you tell him, as you try to do it again. "anger distracts me." 

he laughs at you, leaning even further against the door. 

"gojo," you whine, trying to pinch him away instead. "stop being an ass. just get out of the way." 

he holds a hand to his chest, offended. "i am showing concern about your safety," he claims, shaking his head at you. 

"you are ruining my mood." 

"oh, good." 

you scowl. "move. right now." 

"that was very intimidating," he grins at you, "but maybe try again." 

you groan and try to stab him with your key, which he pushes away, still smiling, still completely the worst. 

"i--" you sigh, "i don't like you very much." 

he snorts. 

then you pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. "please, gojo. i'll be back in fifteen minutes." 

"what is that?" 

you frown. "what?" 

"what's wrong with your face?" 

you throw your arms up, shaking your head. then you mutter another thing about hating him under your breath and finally turn away. you set your keys and your wallet on the counter, pouting as you sit down on the couch. 

gojo is there a moment later, laughing at you. "was that supposed to be convincing?" 

"don't talk to me. ever again." 

you shake your head, fed up with him and everything about this living situation. how are you locked in your apartment right now?

gojo tilts his head back, and then pauses for a moment.  

"then how am i supposed to ask if you want to come with me to the store?" he asks, nonchalantly. "i need some stuff." 

and you should be angry at him--you should probably break one of his fingers or cut his hair off in his sleep. you should tell him that you hate his company and that if he ever tells you what to do again-- 

but instead, you jump up from the couch, smiling at him. "let's go," you say, quickly, before you change your mind. 

and you don't get to see it when gojo smiles back at you, softly. 

*

"hey," he whispers, "you shouldn't sleep here." 

gojo is shaking your shoulder gently, his breath on your face, his voice soft--even in the haze of disrupted sleep. there's a warm feeling in your belly as he speaks to you, an unknowing smile on your face.

"hmm?" you answer, trying to remember who you are and why you're here. who he is.

"it's almost midnight. what are you doing on the couch?" gojo is helping you sit up. his hands are ridiculously warm, and you don't think about how nice they feel on the bare skin of your back. 

"gojo?" 

he laughs. "the one and only. c'mon, i'll tuck you in." 

"did you just get home?" you must still be sleeping, because his hands are so soft right now. and his voice is so quiet--like the creaking of an old house. 

"yeah. are you going to get up?" he's kneeling in front of you, and his face is bare. you almost want to laugh at how bright his hair is even in the dark. 

"where were you?" 

he shakes his head, smiling up at you, and moves from the floor. "c'mon, sit up," he beckons, trying to get you to move your head from its place. you wince. eventually, he gives up and your heart almost disappears when he picks you up, tapping your legs so that you'll wrap them around his waist. 

you do it, but only because you don't want to fall. 

"why are you so tall?" you complain as he carries you to your room, feeling much more awake when you're this high in the air. 

gojo snorts. "i'll take that as a thank you," he whispers in your ear and sets you on your bed. then he sits on the edge and takes your socks off, pulling the covers out from under you. his movements are slow as he covers every inch of skin he can see, his breath the only sound between the two of you. 

it's colder when his hands move, and he looks at you for a moment as if trying to make sure he's satisfied with his job. 

"are you going to make fun of me for this in the morning?" 

gojo grins, squeezing your leg as he stands up. "probably. but only a little." 

"okay," you yawn, blinking as he backs up towards the door. 

"night, sweetheart," he whispers to you, and then a flash of hair is all you see before your door is closed and you drift back to sleep. 

and in the morning you wake up and can't remember how you got in bed. gojo doesn't say a thing. 

*

satoru gojo can say so much without saying a single thing. 

when he burst into your room--surprising you because you hadn't realized he was home--throwing himself on your bed and mumbling something about hating his life, you didn't say a word. 

and he'd sat there for ten minutes while you typed out a paper on your laptop, glancing over to him every couple of minutes, slightly worried because he hadn't moved an inch. 

you've seen a lot of his moods recently. you've seen him excited about some movie you didn't understand, exhausted after a long day of classes, angry when suguru and you leave him out of a joke. but most of that, you assume, is just him being himself. every feeling he has is probably seven times larger than the average person's.

but now that he's groaning into your bed, you can tell, just from the way his body deflates, that there's something wrong. you could see it when he walked in the room, and felt it because he'd told you he was getting dinner with his parents tonight. 

but if you know one thing about him, it's that he won't talk about it if you ask. 

because after a couple of weeks of spending more and more time with him, you'd quickly realized that you didn't actually know much about his life. he doesn't tell any stories about his childhood, or high school years--minus the ones that he tried to suffocate suguru for letting slip. he doesn't mention his parents much, and when he does, it's nothing but the bare minimum. he mentions classes so offhandedly that you hadn't even known how extensive his studies were until suguru was teasing him about an award he'd gotten a couple of years ago. 

he could talk to you for hours on end, but he wouldn't say anything. 

so after realizing this, you'd resorted to asking suguru about it.

that night, gojo was asleep on the floor between your feet. his hand was under his head, and he was snoring loud enough for you to notice. you'd sat down to watch a movie with him after he'd claimed that you and suguru were losers for being tired at this hour and that he was the youngest of you all. 

suguru only smiled a little bit at your question.

"satoru keeps an infinite amount of space between him and everyone else," he'd said softly, into the warm air of your apartment. "even with me, and i've known him since we were kids. his family..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

you'd frowned. "what?" 

"he's always been too much for them, in a way. i mean, you know, he is too much most of the time. but he does all of it purposefully; the arrogance, the bravado. i don't know... i think he just wants to control whatever image everyone has of him. to the extent that his personality is based on pushing people away, just so he can figure out who's actually going to stick around." 

you'd watched him then, with his fluttering eyelashes--his sunglasses lying on the ground next to him--and his bright hair. the gentle movement of his lips as he dreamt. he was softer like this, less forceful, less of a burden, and more of a boy.

and beautiful, of course, but that's an offhanded thought you wouldn't acknowledge.

"so, he doesn't talk to you about--" the words felt wrong, and you almost felt guilty for talking about him like this, with his best friend. but still. "--important stuff?" 

"he talks to me about a lot of things. but, no, not really. i get a long-winded rant sometimes, but not often." 

"then how are you supposed to know anything about him?"

suguru smiled at you, looking between you and gojo like there was a secret he didn't want to tell. he sighed. "satoru doesn't really tell me any of the important stuff because we've known each other for so long. i understand how his family is because i've watched him deal with them. i can guess how he's feeling based on his expression. but for people he hasn't known as long, like you, getting to know him is like i-spy." 

suguru didn’t need to elaborate. you got it.

like trying to find little hints of him hidden between all of the mess. you'd snorted and agreed. 

and it feels even more true now, with him cowering in your blankets. but still, you say nothing. 

you get it, to a certain degree. vulnerability was one of the feelings you liked to push away; secrets were only supposed to be coveted by you. getting close to people was a dangerous thing, risky in its own way. 

but, thinking that gojo doesn't trust you--couldn't trust you... it's more irritating than it should be. and maybe that's just because you're arrogant, and think yourself to be trustworthy. or maybe it's because you trust him, in your own unique way, even with all of his too much and extremeness. 

you don't say that to him though, just like he doesn't say anything to you. 

"hey," you push him with a foot. "are you drooling on my comforter?" 

there's a moment of silence, then gojo rolls over. "not a lot." 

you roll your eyes at him and type another sentence--a collection of words that have nothing to do with the actual essay you're writing, naturally--waiting for him to say something else. 

and, predictably, he does. "why aren't you paying attention to me?" 

"i'm busy, gojo." 

"no, you're not." 

"i am doing homework." 

he looks up at you. his sunglasses are somewhere on your floor. "well, then you're definitely not busy," he grins. 

you swat away a hand that tries to steal your computer. 

"aren't you supposed to be at dinner?" you ask him, trying to seem like you don't care about the answer. 

he sighs again. "canceled." 

"why?" 

"my dad had a meeting or something." 

"oh." 

you let the silence wade for a minute or two, trying to be discreet when you watch his face for any signs of discontent. but gojo just has his eyes closed. his hands above his head. 

eventually, you nudge him again. "did you eat anything?" 

he shakes his head. 

"do you want me to make you something?" 

an eye opens. he turns over and rests his head on his hands, squinting at you. "are you being nice to me?" 

"not intentionally." 

he snorts, poking you, almost in awe. "you are." 

"i'm just trying to make sure you don't die, okay? who knows what you've eaten today." 

he crawls up your bed, sitting right next to you so he can rest his head on your shoulder. and you should push him off, but you don't. "it's okay. i'm not very hungry." 

"that's not what i asked." 

gojo laughs against you, his hair brushing against your neck. 

you shouldn't say anything more. you shouldn't even entertain him and his antics, and you shouldn't even care (but you do. for some, stupid, infuriating reason). 

so you look at him, and your voice is soft when you ask, "you okay?" to him, hoping that it doesn't seem too intrusive. wishing that you didn't actually care if he was or not.

gojo's eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, you get that feeling again. 

that feeling in your stomach that makes you want to jump away from him. that makes your hands want to shake, and your voice fade. that feeling that you know--too well, too much--but can't get rid of. 

like an itch you're not really supposed to scratch. 

gojo swallows. "yeah," he answers, with no grin, no conceit. "i'm okay." 

and it shouldn't feel like a relief to hear, but it does. you nod, look away, and go back to your computer. back to your actual life, which shouldn't have any satoru gojo in it. 

but a minute later he adds: "i'd be better if you made me dinner, though." 

and you pull on his hair a little. you try to pretend like his smile doesn't fill you with butterflies. 

*

this shouldn't be happening. 

it's the only reasonable thought running through your brain at the moment. the only echo you can discern, the only words you can make out in the jumble of anxiety and horror running through your mind. 

he should not be this close. 

gojo had only picked you up from work once again, his easy smile meeting yours as soon as he walked through the door--you'd been waiting, wondering when he was going to show up. 

at seven-thirty he was there, letting in the cold air and sitting in the seat next to yours, complaining about the fact that you had a job that diverted your attention away from him while you rolled your eyes. 

he sat there for the half an hour remaining in your shift, distracting you. 

two months ago you would've kicked him out. would've called some make-believe security. 

but you just listened while he talked to you about space theories that didn't make any sense. 

and then he'd grabbed your bag for you, turning off the lights before you could, pushing in chairs while you organized the reception desk. 

and his hand grabbed yours before you thought to notice--swinging along while the two of you began the walk home. 

and halfway there, gojo stopped, looking up at something. "hey," he'd poked you. "look at the stars." 

you'd done it, begrudgingly, squinting. "i can count, like, three." 

"there's at least five." 

"why did you stop me to do this? it's cold." 

"because they look nice," he argues, looking down at you. "you have no eye for beauty." 

and, really, you might've agreed with him. you might've pushed him away from you and told him to hurry up and you might've not cared at all. 

but you could see his eyes, just a little bit, behind his sunglasses. and his smile was alabaster, and that feeling--that gasping for breath, trying to hold on to anything feeling--was there again. 

and it was poking you. like a push in some direction. like a laugh telling you that you were too afraid to do anything. 

you were looking at him. right at his face and the only thing you wanted to say was that he was wrong. 

he was wrong because at least you knew that he looked beautiful. 

but those words wouldn't leave your lips--that thought couldn't leave your head--so you were only staring at him. wishing that you'd never let him into your apartment and that he hadn't started becoming a person to you. 

it wasn't fair like this. 

"what?" he whispered, his smile dropping, like he could tell there was something wrong with you. like he knew you that well. 

if he'd kept on smiling, you wouldn't have done it. you wouldn't have pushed up on your toes and leaned into him, and you wouldn't have kissed him like you did. 

like you're doing. 

and it would've been fine because you never would've started this knowing that it would eventually have to stop. 

and even though it takes him less than a second to kiss you back--his lips molding to yours like an automatic reaction--you know that you shouldn't be doing this. 

that you can't be doing this. not with him. not like this. 

so when gojo's hands move to your waist, his breath even in your mouth, you push at his chest. and you want to run away. 

"i'm--" you swallow, trying not to taste him, the bubblegum flavor of him, and almost flinch away. "i'm sorry." 

gojo's mouth is frozen from where he stands two feet away. his hands are in the air like he doesn't know what to do with them. "you..." 

and you've never heard him speechless before. just the idea of it makes you blurt out whatever comes to mind. "i shouldn't have done that," you tell him, and, "i didn't mean to--i don't--" you shake your head. "sorry. i'm sorry. can we forget about this? can we get home because i'm really cold?" 

"you kissed me," gojo says, so simply. 

the words are another blow to your heart. you were hoping that he wouldn't have noticed. 

and wince and watch him, his face as it shifts, moving with each thought in his head. 

"gojo, i'm really--" 

"no," he interrupts, taking a step towards you. 

"what?" 

"that's not my name." 

you frown. "yes it is?" 

he shakes his head. "no, it's satoru. you've said it before, you know. you should keep saying it." 

"when have i said it?" you ask, momentarily blinded by how he demands this. who is he to demand anything? 

"when you were drunk." 

you scoff. "i'm not just going to call you by your first name cause you want me to," you tell him, "who do you think i am?" 

and then satoru laughs, shaking his head at you, his grin full-force on his face. "are you serious? you kissed me and now you don't want to call me by my first name?" 

you freeze. "i said i was sorry about that," you say, weakly. 

you feel like who you've always felt around him. not as easy, not as cool, never as smooth. you feel like a child caught doing something they're not supposed to. you want to run away from him, but he knows where you live. 

"you're sorry?" 

"i didn't mean to." 

he quirks a brow. "you didn't mean to?" 

"it was an accident?" 

he takes another step closer. "it was an accident?" 

"are you just going to keep repeating everything i say?" you ask, voice hard. this must be a dream. 

satoru shakes his head at you. "no, but i have a question." 

"...okay." 

"if i try to kiss you right now, are you going to try and murder me? i know that we're away from the apartment right now, but it would really ruin the mood." 

you stare at him. 

it must be answer enough because he steps forward and he kisses you again. but this time, it feels less mechanical. his lips are soft and smooth as they push against yours--and he pushes like he's demanding something from you. like he knows more about what you can give than you do. 

and he grins against you like he's doing everything exactly right. 

but when satoru pulls back, your eyes stay shut. you try and banish the feeling in your stomach from your body, but it doesn't respond to idle threats. 

"we shouldn't do this," you whisper to him. you don't open your eyes. you don't want to see his face and fall victim to another one of his schemes. 

"why not?" 

"the last time i kissed one of my roommates..." you imply, hoping that you don't have to tell him that you're scared. 

"oh, right," he brushes some hair from your face. he has not moved an inch away from you. "i forgot that you're experienced." 

"wasn't it obvious?" 

he laughs, and then nudges your cheek with a finger. "look at me." 

you shake your head. 

"c'mon, just a little." 

his voice is so soft. satoru is whispering like it's just for you. and you've never heard him like this and you don't think you want to see him. 

"please, sweetheart?" he asks, one last time, and you have to. if only to put yourself out of your own misery. "good. now listen--" 

"don't tell me what to do." 

he rolls his eyes. "listen," he repeats. "i know you don't like me very much. and i know that you only keep me around for my rent money and my pretty face--" 

you kinda want to hit him. 

"--but i've wanted to kiss you for weeks. and i'm not good at the..." he swallows, blinking just briefly. "all of the telling stuff, but i want to be. with you. for you." 

you're not sure if that's the end, or if it's the beginning. your eyes are stuck on his smile, and you're not listening to anything he said. 

he's very close right now. so accessible. and it's just another reason to want to push him away. 

satoru clears his throat, nudging your head with his nose. "and i'm tired of shoko and suguru calling me a coward, so it'd be great if you'd mention that you kissed me first." 

your brows furrow. "you told shoko and suguru?" 

"i didn't say anything," he almost swears. "they tricked me into admitting it." 

"when?" 

"...the day after i introduced you to them." 

you pull away to observe his face. "really?" 

he groans. "stop looking at me like that," he says, "it's mean." 

you almost smile at him again. then close your eyes. "okay."

"havent you listened to anything i've said to you?" he asks, rhetorically. "i flirt with you every day." 

"you flirt with everything." 

"mmm, true," he leans his chin against your head, breathing you in. "now that i've poured my heart out for you, can we go home? it's cold out here, and i'd rather make out on our couch than that bench over there." 

"who said anything about making out?" 

"please," he wraps an arm around your shoulder, and smiles down at you--with all of the typical swagger--and maybe this time you let him. 

*

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[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[br7ght]

Top Material Lucy Bronze

summary: You're convinced you're the only person that can make Lucy Bronze squirm, and while no one believes you, you're determined to prove it

warnings: dom!lucy, dom!reader, slight alcohol consumption but no one is actually drunk I promise (I know because I wrote it), fight for dominance.

pairing: lucy bronze x reader

word count: 2000 (part 1)

Build up to part 2 coming soon!

Lucy was flirting with everyone, apart from you. At first you presumed that you just weren’t her type, but now it was growing unusually suspicious. The entire team had started out drinking, but now it was only the strongest drinkers left, everyone else leaving to go back to their hotel, stumbling back together knowing they wouldn’t make it up for training tomorrow. You were sat silently at the table, legs crossed, sheer black tights rubbing against each other as you took the straw into your mouth, sucking up your mojito like it wasn’t filled with alcohol.

You were looking around the table, observing at how everyone was all over each other from laughing too hard, the alcohol controlling their movements, clearly beginning to get to their heads. This was everyone apart from Lucy, you’d barely see her drink, she liked to keep a clear head, always being the one to look after everyone else.

Mary was definitely the next to go, you thought to yourself. You were watching her sway against her drink, barely able to keep herself up, slumping against Millie, her eyes fluttering, and you could tell she was trying desperately to not fall asleep in mid conversation. Millie was barely paying any attention, throwing her head back laughing with Rachel who had said something stupid as she was caught up in their own tipsiness.

“Maz you alright babe?” You ask, nudging her with your shoulder. Her head immediately falls against your neck, and you wrap your arm around her, supporting her against your body. “Come on I think it’s time I take you to bed.”

“Woah, bit full on young’un, she’s wifed up remember.” Beth giggled, your cheeks flushing red as the rest of the girls instantly stopped their own conversations and turned to look at you. You were the youngest of the group which meant you usually found yourself at the centre of their jokes, which you didn’t mind of course, the girls liking to take their age as a reason to tease you.

“Oh, shut up Beth, she obviously didn’t mean it like that.” Leah said and the group fell silent and you were instantly tricked into believing that one of them was actually standing up for you. She was smiling at you and you felt yourself smile back and that was your first mistake. “We all know she couldn’t take anyone to bed, it’s gotta be the other way around, ain’t that right?” With that, they were all set off again, giggling at your presumed innocence.

“Ha ha, really funny you guys.” You rolled your eyes, your arm wrapping tighter around Mary as she joined in with the giggles inbetween her head dipping when her eyes fell shut and it looked like she was falling asleep between laughs.

“Come on, you know we’re only joking.” Rachel teased, giving you a light shove as you sat with your back against the booth, still supporting Mary’s weight against your body, giving up on holding herself up now. “But it is true babe, you’re don’t exactly give ‘I’m going to take you to bed’ energy.” She smirked at you, and you were convinced that your eyes were stuck in the back of your head from how much they were rolling tonight. You looked around at the table and noticed Lucy’s hand on Leah’s thigh, gripping lightly as they were sat back against their seats. You felt an instant rush of jealousy, a similar one to how you’d been feeling the rest of the night at watching Lucy flirt with every woman she came into contact with, but somehow her making advances on your teammate hurt a little bit more than the other strangers.

“What? And you lot do?” You teased back but failing and their assumptions were seemingly correct. It didn’t help that you were faced with the laughing faces of Leah, Beth, Millie and Lucy, the members of the team with the most top energy and you, sat in your tight black dress and silk tights were not exactly fitting the dominating vibe. You could feel your cheeks getting redder, your face burning up.

“Don’t kid yourself baby, it’s okay that you’re not quite top material just yet.” Lucy smirked, her eyebrow raised as she gripped harder on Leah’s thigh, the younger woman’s lips clasping around her drink at the movement. That’s the first thing she’d said to you and her patronising tone had made you determined to prove her wrong, but with Mary lulling against your side you knew that now wasn’t the right time.

“Come on, I think she’s right, I think it’s Mary’s bedtime now.” Millie said, lifting herself up off the seat and helping the drunken body off of your side, wrapping her arm around her shoulder and lifting her up onto her feet.

“I’ll help you, Mils.” Rachel chimed in, taking her other arm, and saying their goodbyes. Lucy and Leah were awfully close to each other now, whispering into each other’s faces as you just watched in silence. The jealously that seethed through your veins was confusing you, it wasn’t difficult to admit that Lucy was attractive, everybody knew and thought the same even if they didn’t admit it. God, even the straight members of the team could be turned by one seducing look from the older woman.

“Come on let’s dance before we follow suit,” Beth suggested, and the three of them all stood up, taking their drinks with them, Lucy’s hand around Leah’s waist and you felt that was your final straw. You got up with them but once they reached the dancefloor you couldn’t bear to watch the two of them dancing up against each other and while you knew you and Beth got along just fine, you didn’t fancy third wheeling with her as you watched Leah suggestively swaying her hips in front of Lucy.

You followed your feet, letting your body take control as you walked past the dancefloor and straight into the women’s bathroom. As soon as the breeze of the restroom hit your face you felt yourself able to breathe again, looking at your appearance in the mirror, frustrated both in how you’d reacted to the team's endless teasing, but also how you were feeling about watching Lucy with Leah. You knew you’d made an effort tonight, pinning up your hair in a messy bun, rubbing off your eyeliner over and over again until it was actually straight, and dressing in the hottest outfit you owned, but for what. It wasn’t until now that you understood why.

You wanted Lucy Bronze to notice you.

“You stupid idiot.” You say to yourself in the mirror, blinking your eyes hard to stop the tears from flowing against your make-up, if anything could go worse tonight it would be walking out of the bathroom with blotchy cheeks from where the tears had rubbed splotches of your face from your skin.

You heard footsteps from behind you, your head hung but immediately shaking your head and looking in the mirror to see who it was. The tall brunette was stood behind you, her eyes fixed on your ass before she noticed that you were looking right at her. Her eyes instantly met yours and you wiped your cheeks with your hands, turning your back against the mirror, leaning against the sink.

“You okay newbie?” Lucy asked, looking at your bloodshot eyes and stepping another foot closer in an attempt to comfort you. She’d been calling you newbie since you joined last year, your innocent look constantly reminding everyone that you were the newest recruit.

“What did you mean by what you said Luce?” You asked, the tears that were running down your face had stopped, and you felt the confidence that you needed around the table coming to you now when you were backed against the bathroom sink. “Not quite top material?”

She was smirking at you, not feeling an ounce of remorse for the humiliating comment that she’d made to you around the others, the same comment that had forced you into the bathroom in an attempt to escape the embarrassment of them talking openly about your seemingly submissive look. “I just mean that you look like you need to be taken cared of, not the other way around, nothing serious, nothing to get upset about.” It was genuine comfort now, but as the warmth of her body got closer to yours, her finger tucking the stray curl of hair behind your ear and your breath hitched. “See, you’re just easy to make nervous.”

She was right, you weren’t exactly showing off your best moves right now, but who would be, not when Lucy was right up against you, finally showing you the attention that you’d been craving all night. You knew that she must be used to making pretty girls weak at the knees, her mysterious, confident persona usually having this effect on people.

“What and you’re not?” You question, responding to her advances by gaining inches closer to her, while you were shorter you knew you could sway your hips in a way that she wouldn’t be able to focus properly on your face. You were instantly proven right, her eyes losing contact with your face, not even trying to hide the way she was following the curves of your body with her gaze.

“It’s not usually one of my biggest weaknesses.” She leered, trying to match your response, your bodies awfully close now but you knew that you could make sure she regretted everything she had said to embarrass you purposefully in front of everyone.

“I bet I can change that.” This tone of voice wasn’t exactly new to you but the fact that it was directed to the woman who you were desperate for changed the stakes of the bet you’d just made. She let out a uneasy laugh, you didn’t think it was supposed to come out that way, but it was attractive nonetheless. You found yourself looking up at her, but not in the way she was used to. You were looking at her like you were ready to pounce against her body rather than the other way around. She was failing to make you a nervous mess, failing to twirl you around her finger, this was all new to her.

“Don’t pretend to be something you’re not, you know you want me to take you here, right now.” This was all she had, you weren’t even thinking about the number of girls she’d used that on before, but you were more than determined to make her know that you were different than what she was expecting.

“I’m not pretending.” This was the first time your words had come across as you meant, taking your chance, and pressing your lips against hers. Your wave of confidence taking over your sentence, your lips breaking for a moment, your eyes both filled with lust as you took another glance at each other before you took the reins again, your lips slotting together perfectly. You swiped your tongue against her bottom lip and to your surprise she gave in, allowing access into her mouth. You took the opportunity, your tongue exploring hers, your hand finding its way to the back of her neck. You drew her face closer to yours and she gasped in response, not used to taking the passenger seat during a first move.

You harshly stroked your finger against the back of her neck, tangling your fingers in her hair and pulling slightly, maintaining your dominance but not without a fight. Her hands were gripping your waist, trying to move down to your ass that was tightly clothed within the black dress. You slapped her hand, batting it away from your curves. “Not so fast.” You whispered in her ear, your tongue trailing from her ear lobe all the way down to her collar bone, gently sucking against her skin before taking her face within your hands, forcing her to look down at you. She had your red lipstick smudged across her mouth and nothing was going to change that, not now you’d made it this far.

“Fuck you’re going to be difficult to pin down hm?” She questioned, her usual dominant and confident tone disappearing as it was your turn to smirk at her now, your hands being given full freedom to grip her back, not letting her inches away from yourself.

“You won’t be pinning me down, that’s not how this is going to go.” With that you collided your lips together again, taking her hand off of your back and dragging her into one of the available stalls.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze smut #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze fic #lucy bronze fluff #lucy bronze fanfic #woso fanfic #woso community #woso fic #woso x reader #woso smut #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso #engwnt

[appocalipse]

Grand Gesture | eddie munson

summary: catching feelings for your best friend was never in your plans. when you start distancing yourself from him to protect your heart, eddie vows to do everything in his power to keep it forever.

“Come over for dinner tonight?” Eddie asks, trying to sound natural but maybe not being quite successful. “Wayne misses you, you know.”

It's a lie and he knows it — not that Wayne doesn't like you, far from it, but Eddie is painfully aware he's the one who misses you the most. He feels like a part of him is missing. His uncle, on the other hand, is a man of actions more than a man of words, and judging by the way he always ordered your favorite pizza flavor when you'd come visit Eddie, or how he'd give an understanding smile whenever Eddie did so much as mention your name, it was safe to say he considered you as much family as he did Eddie himself.

But that was before. Eddie now has to be quick if he wants to talk to you between classes. Most of the time you're no more than a blur to him — the ghost of his childhood best friend.

You look up at him very quickly — as if your eyes would burn if your gaze lingered too long, even — and you shove some books out of your backpack into the locker with little care. You smile, but Eddie knows all of your genuine smiles and this isn't one of them.

“Uh, well, I can't today,” you say. "Sorry."

"Tomorrow?"

"Busy too."

You seem to be calculating an escape route as you look down the hall. Eddie feels terribly pathetic when he asks again, "What about next week?"

“I have a test next week, I'll have to study.”

“Oh,” is all he manages to say.

Eddie doesn't remember any tests happening the following week. He twirls a ring around his finger nervously and tries to convince himself that it might be from a class of yours that he doesn't attend.

“Thanks for inviting me anyway," you close the locker and smile that same smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Say hi to Wayne for me, okay?”

“...sure.”

You're leaving once more. Eddie feels panic rising in his throat, swallows hard, and says, before he can stop himself, "You're still going to The Hideout on Tuesday, right?"

Tuesday. It was something you and him had agreed on a while ago; Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout every Tuesday and most Tuesdays you'd go see them, but if you couldn't make it every time, the deal was that you'd go at least once a month. And you hadn't been there for the last three Tuesdays, which made this your last chance to keep your promise.

You look over your shoulder at Eddie, saying, "I'll try." And wave before rushing off to your next class without looking back.

He immediately knows you won't come; it's remarkable how much distance you've managed to put between the two of you in such a short amount of time.

On the other hand, you know you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday.

Not because you have an appointment you can't reschedule or because you've already made plans you don't want to miss…but because being in love with your best friend feels awfully like getting a thorn into your foot. You could go weeks without seeing him, slowly forgetting the thorn was there…and then you'd just spend 2 minutes with Eddie and the damn thing would re-enter your skin three times deeper.

So no, you can't go to The Hideout on Tuesday, you decide. Watching Eddie play guitar wouldn't do you any good.

And you don't go. Not this Tuesday, not the next, not the one after that. Time goes by too fast but somehow the days seem to drag on terribly. And then days become weeks, weeks become months. Well, month, singular, but Eddie feels like he's lived a lifetime during the time you're not talking to him. It certainly feels like months.

36 days. Not that the two of you are counting. Definitely not.

Eddie is sitting on his throne in the middle of a Hellfire session, babbling his lines and running the campaign almost robotically, when he thinks of you again. The Eddie from before, the Eddie who still had you in his life, would have been ecstatic as he awaited the day to share this campaign with his little sheep around this very table. Now he's having trouble keeping track of what's going on.

He remembers the general idea; a curse, some monsters, an object capable of saving the world that lies in the power of a female elf the party has to find and convince to help. Yada, yada.

It's the third time he's lost himself inside his own head.

"Dude!"

Eddie looks at Dustin as if he's just been slapped. "What?"

“You're being ridiculous. Just talk to her."

"How dare you-"

Dustin realizes Eddie is about to go on a rant about getting out of character mid-session. He's not sure where all this courage is coming from (maybe it comes from the fact that he really cares about his Dungeon Master's happiness) but Dustin reaches out and lowers the screen in front of Eddie.

“You gotta go find your elf, man,” he says, encouraged by the murmurs of agreement rising from the others in the room. "Like, right now. Looks like your world is coming to an end.”

Eddie has an answer on the tip of his tongue as he looks from face to face and back to Dustin's.

"I'm the Dungeon Master here, Henderson." He doesn't care if he sounds defensive or silly or if the other boys will realize he's purposely pretending not to understand what his friend means. He doesn't care in the least.

“Oh, for God's sake,” insists Dustin, apparently the group's representative now that the subject is Eddie's personal life. "You know very well I'm talking about her."

Eddie makes a move to lift the dungeon master screen once again in hopes of ending the conversation. Dustin pulls it out of his grasp with little care.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

“You should go after her, man,” suggests Lucas, very quietly.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, working up the courage to say something when Eddie doesn't say anything. “Believe me, it took some time to figure out my feelings for El, too. But at least I got it at some point, you know.”

“A grand gesture is what you need,” Lucas adds with newfound confidence. "It's what I do when Max doesn't want to talk to me."

He cowers slightly when Eddie looks at him, an appraising brow raised. Dustin is nodding his head emphatically in agreement, though.

“We want our Dungeon Master back,” Gareth says, trying to lighten the mood.

There is a silence that seems to last for years. Then, not quite realizing what he's doing, Eddie stands up, nearly toppling his throne in the process, and pretty much jumps toward the door.

Behind him, the boys shout words of encouragement and whistle with exaggerated excitement.

Grand gesture, huh?

"You should ask Eddie to go to the movies with you."

"Mom," you scold for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, helping her into her coat.

"I just don't like leaving you home alone."

"I'll be fine. I'm practically an adult now."

Of course, you are. The discussion is not about that and you know it. She knows it. But none of you say anything. This conversation has played out several times in many different ways over the past thirty days, and it doesn't look like she's going to stop insisting anytime soon.

Your mother gives you her best puppy dog eyes. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"Yes, yes!" You emphasize, gently pushing her out the front door and smiling as convincingly as you can. "I swear I will. Now go have fun!"

She smiles and kisses the top of your head affectionately.

"Lock the door behind me, okay?"

You do. But you might as well have left the damn thing open, because two minutes after you lock it and just a second after you sit down on the couch, you hear a knock.

You run to the door, key in hand.

"Mom, did you forget something agai-"

But it's not your mom.

"Eddie," you mumble, voice barely a whisper.

It shouldn't be possible, but he's right there in front of you, hands in his pockets as he looks at your face with a nervous smile.

"Hi," he says, voice husky and warm just as you remember.

You feel like your heart is about to find its way out of your rib cage somehow.

Clearing your throat, you finally find your voice. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hellfire?" you ask.

"I left halfway through the session," he says, as if that explains everything. Eddie Ditching Hellfire? When you don't say anything else, standing there looking like you want to slam the door in his face, Eddie quickly adds, "Can I come in?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"We need to talk."

"It's not a good time," you say without looking at him, a little upset because, damn, how are you supposed to forget a guy who keeps showing up?

You start to close the door slowly, almost without realizing you're doing it.

Eddie puts his foot in the gap to stop you.

"Please," he begs. "Ten minutes?"

No, no, no. Say no.

Cursing inwardly, you step back and let him in. "Five."

You gesture for him to sit around the small kitchen table and lean against the counter, keeping a safe distance from him, your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest.

You ask him if he'd like something to eat or drink and he denies, hating how he's become a guest at your place, an outsider, someone you no longer have that familiar intimacy with.

You're staring at the floor like it's the most interesting thing you'd ever laid eyes on. "What did you want to talk about?" you ask.

Eddie places both hands on the table, twirling the rings around his fingers anxiously.

"I want…I need to…." he licks his lips and looks at your face, trying to turn thoughts into words and not understanding why it's suddenly so difficult to do so. "Why do you suddenly hate me?"

You can't say you didn't expect to hear a question like this at some point. That doesn't mean you don't get slightly lost when you actually hear it, though.

"I don't hate you, Eddie."

"You didn't talk to me in weeks, you didn't come to see my band," he holds up a finger as he points out each of your actions, "you run the other way whenever you see me in the school hallways…"

His gaze diverts to the space beside you.

“Christ, you even ripped our picture out of your fridge, apparently,” he lets out a completely humorless chuckle, a hint of sadness behind the irony you know all too well.

You look into the empty space he's indicating and suddenly feel guilty. A picture of the two of you the first night Eddie played at the Hideout with the band used to be there.

"I don't hate you," you repeat, silly. "I'd never hate you."

"You don't even look at me."

"Of course I do." You weren't looking until now, but you force yourself to do so even though it's hard. There's something very intimate about looking Eddie in the eyes, you think, something awfully familiar. "I'm looking at you right now."

"Yeah. For 2 seconds, I bet."

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, take a deep breath, and try to keep your thoughts clear.

"Did you come all the way here to tell me to look at you?"

"No," he says. "I came all the way here to say I miss you."

A very long time passes without you saying anything, your chest rising and falling faster than usual. Eddie realizes he's surprised you.

A spark of happiness you shouldn't feel warms your heart. You try to smother it.

In a small voice, he insists, "Don't you miss me?"

Your heart screams yes, but you don't say anything. Eddie stands up, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor sounding alarming to your ears.

“We've been friends for…what? Twelve years? And you're going to tell me that you've simply decided that you don't like my company now?”

“Eddie,” you finally say. "Stop."

You uncross your arms, using your hands to lean against the kitchen counter behind you instead, fighting the urge to run. Whether in Eddie's direction or the opposite, you're still unsure.

"Why? So you can go back to erasing me from your life again without saying anything?” he asks, putting the chair back in place before moving towards you. “You can say it to my face, then. Say you hate me.”

"I don't hate you."

"You certainly don't like me."

"I-"

“Or think of me.”

“I never said-”

"If you tell me to leave now, I swear I will and I won't come back," he promises and you know it's true. But then, slower, lighter, almost whispering, he adds, “…but that's not what I want.”

You should tell him to go away, to leave. You know he won't give up if you don't tell him to do so, but you can't bring yourself to be cruel to him, not even to protect your own heart.

So instead, the spark of hope becomes a flame inside your chest and you find yourself asking, “And what do you want?”

For a good five seconds, Eddie looks at you like he's facing a crossroads. Then he comes closer and places his hands over yours, one on either side of you, any definition of personal space momentarily forgotten as he moves his face closer to yours.

“I want…,” he begins, and it's thanks to the way you can feel each word that leaves his lips that you're made aware of how close you are, that you're between him and the kitchen counter. That he's about to kiss you. “I want to-”

His forehead rests against yours, his eyes slowly fluttering closed. The words he wants to say never make it past his mouth.

He is about to kiss you, right?

“Eddie-”

Eddie leans back just enough to consider the expression on your face, eyes big and brown and warm.

"You want me to go?" he whispers.

“No,” you're not surprised at how quickly you respond. Your hand slips from under his to brush a dark curl out of his eyes. "I broke our promise, though."

"It's okay."

He leans in. You feel his lips at the corner of your mouth and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'll go to every single one of your gigs from now on-"

“Please,” he begs, a distinct hint of affection behind his words. "Stop talking."

"What you're doing?"

His upper lip touches yours. You can feel his reluctant smile when he says, “A grand gesture, I hope.”

And then, Eddie closes the gap — your breath catches the very moment his mouth meets yours, his kiss gentle, slow, a step too big to be taken all at once. He leans in and you feel his chest against yours, one hand sliding to the small of your back and pressing you even closer, another moving up your arm, over your shoulder, to the crook of your neck and your jaw. He holds your face and you sigh against his mouth, your lips parted invitation enough for him to deepen the kiss.

And God, being kissed like this does feel like a grand gesture.

He tastes exactly like you thought he would and somehow entirely different at the same time — something familiar, something safe, but also something new and fiery and wonderful.

You're breathing heavily — Eddie not much different — when he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispers. In the silence of the empty house, it's more than enough. “Please tell me you want me to stay, sweetheart, 'cause I have no fucking idea how to stay away from you.”

You're still coming to your senses, all too aware of the hand he keeps tightly on your waist, of the gentle movement of his calloused thumb against your cheek.

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile the most genuine smile he's ever seen on your face.

“As if I’d ever let you go after this, Munson.”

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x female reader

[katiexpunk]

okay i’m feeling a little delulu and playing pool with the boys right now. ideas are rolling and i want a fic where joel fucks reader on a pool table (breeding kink maybe?!?) you’re the best

Run the Table | Pairing Joel and Tommy Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You're home for Christmas, only to find yourself there for the New Year. You decide to blow off some steam, only to end up at Joel's Place, your old local watering hole. Bits of your past get dredged up, and before you know it, Joel and Tommy have you bent over a pool table. Word Count: ~6K Warnings: Dubcon from the perspective that the reader is a little drunk, but she's definitely a willing participant. Family feuds. Alcohol. Age gap implied but not referenced explicitly. Flirting and bantering. Threesome with the Miller Bros. Betting. Pool. Oral (m and f receiving). Fingering. Praise. Use of daddy. Fucking on pool table. Pool. Suggestive use of a cue stick. Dom undertones from Joel. Hard core breeding kink. References to pregnancy. Cum kink. Cum swallowing. Praise kink. Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Use of pet names. Tommy and Joel are suave in this, but reader gives them a run for their money. Use of slut. No descriptions of reader, except that she has boobs and hair. Minimally edited. Filth, filth, filth. Authors Note: Thank you so much for the ask, Abby @javipispunk/@barzalmatty! This was such a treat to write. You naughty girl, I hope this inspires you, or at the very least, makes you O. Thanks for submitting this ask in babe, ily. This will be my last fic of 2023. Thank you all so much for your continued support.

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The living room, which was all holiday cozy a few days ago, now feels like a battleground in the weird liminal space between Christmas and the New Year. You can’t remember the last time you spent more than three consecutive days with your family, and now you remember why. 

The family drama has hit an all-time high, with arguments about the dumbest stuff echoing through the house – your mother yelling that someone put her Pyrex in the wrong cabinet, your father yelling at your brother for adjusting the settings on the remote. Hell, even the dog is over it; spending most of the day lounging in front of the LED fireplace that your mother picked up at Costco last winter. You never really understood that one, given your living room has an actual functioning fireplace. 

Of course, you all love each other, it’s just that the festive candle is now nearly snuffed out; not to be lit again until Thanksgiving. Or if your mother had it her way, Easter, but you haven’t cared much for Easter since that one year that your cousin Ron ate way too many hard-boiled eggs and couldn’t stop farting all night. Never again, you swore to yourself then, and still swear to yourself now. 

You come back to your hometown maybe once a year, twice if someone dies. You haven’t lived here in years, and yet the streets bear the weight of nostalgia, each corner holding echoes of memories that time has both polished and weathered. The town is a paradox, frozen in a bittersweet dance between familiarity and change. 

You’re cozied up under a blanket on the couch, a glass of red swirling in one hand, the Eve Babitz novel your roommate gifted to you in the other. Try as you might, you just can’t seem to relax; the words on the page are blending into a snarled blob of ink. The tension is too much; the heavy air in the house makes it difficult to concentrate. Fuck this. 

You throw on your coat and slip out of the house. I’m going out, be back later, you call out but you don’t wait for your words to be acknowledged before the front door slams shut, not that anyone was listening in the first place. 

You pause on your front stoop in the cool night air and take a deep inhale, tilting your head up to the sky, the moonlight coating your face like a veil. The winter air that fills your lungs makes you feel alive, and it’s then that you realize how close you were to suffocating mere moments ago. 

You stand under the stars and consider your options before eventually landing on the best of them. Your old watering hole from college; the one with the heavy pours and the best pool tables in the town – Joel’s Place. 

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way there. In the silence, it’s easy to let your let your mind wander. You haven’t been back in years, and yet, your mind still drifts to thoughts of dimples and salt-and-pepper curls. You wonder if he’ll remember you – not likely, you think. 

Your stomach flutters at the thought anyway.

++++ 

The door to Joel’s Place creaks open, releasing a gust of frigid winter air that clings to your coat. Note to self, bring a scarf next time. The warmth inside is a welcome contrast, and the familiar scent of the aged wood and whiskey acts like a time machine and transports you back in time to your early 20s. It’s just the same; the mahogany bar, stools with cracked leather seats, and vintage beer signs adorning the walls. 

While aspects of the town may have changed, you’re pleased to find that Joel’s Place has not. 

As the door swings shut behind you, you find yourself in a familiar dimly lit space, except – it’s not – it’s quiet. A little too quiet. The pool tables in the distance stand untouched, their felt surfaces waiting for the familiar crack of balls colliding. The hanging lights above them cast a warm, dim glow, illuminating the emptiness that seems to linger. It starkly contrasts the energy you were surrounded by earlier in the night. 

The place is empty, except for one customer at the bar. The bartender – Joel, you hope – is nowhere to be seen. You hesitate for a moment, taking in the scene before deciding to sit an appropriate two stools away from the man, not wanting to be awkward. You don’t think he would mind, not really, but you suppose the rule in a situation like this is similar to public transport etiquette. If there’s more than one open seat, you never sit directly next to anyone. 

“Excuse me, sir – is this seat taken?” You ask, a hint of sweetness and formality behind your voice. You know it’s not, but the manners that were hammered into you from your tidy upbringing are hard to shake.

The man looks at you, the neck of the beer he’s nursing parting from his lips as he does. Now that you have a full look at him, he’s quite gorgeous. Olive sunkissed skin, dark curls, deep brown eyes that all but scream trouble. 

“All yours, sugar,” he responds. And oh, he’s southern to boot, with a hint of a twang behind his inflection. 

You slip your puffy coat off your shoulders, revealing your ensemble for the night; a simple pair of jeans and a tight long-sleeve cashmere sweater that cups the curve of your breasts and lifts them just right, a lovely slit down the middle that exposes just enough. You hook your coat under the bar and pull out the stool, its metal legs scratching against the floor as you do. 

“So, the producers didn’t have enough to pay for some extras for this show, or what?” you joke, a slight smirk on your face as you settle yourself onto the stool. 

“‘Spose not,” he responds, a hint of a smile on his face as he brings the bottle back to his lips, his eyes locking with yours as he does. 

“And the uh–bartender, Joel, if I remember correctly,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice, “he here, or is this just a one-man show?” 

And wouldn’t that be something, you here all alone with just him. 

“Can’t be a one-man show with you here, darlin',” he responds, his dark eyes drinking you down like the beer in his hand. “He’s here, just in the back hooking up a new keg,” he adds. 

“Oh,” you respond, your voice a smidge too high – like you’re some fucking school girl about to see her crush in 3rd period. “Good, that’s good. Can’t have all of our friends here go thirsty,” you retort, making a vague gesture with your palm to the empty space in the bar in an attempt to recover yourself from your very obvious interest in the bartender being here. So stupid. 

“Can’t have that, they’re a rowdy bunch” he responds with a wink and you flash him a warm smile. “You’re funny, I like you,” he adds, “name’s Tommy, by the way, and you are?” 

You give him yours with an extension of your hand. His swallows yours, but he’s gentle and discerning with the shake he gives it. He holds you there, just looking, and you feel a warmth creep up to your face. With your hands still interlocked, a broad figure pushes through the door from the kitchen with a resounding thud. 

You turn to face him, and his amber eyes immediately find yours. Your breath hitches in your throat, your pulse quickens, and you’re now acutely aware of the fact that you’re still linked with Tommy. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Either ‘m getting old and my eyes are deceiving me, or it’s little Miss Shark sitting at my bar, chatting up my brother,” Joel lets out, his voice low and even. The corners of his mouth lift and you think he might smile, but his face goes just as unreadable as always as he grabs for a bottle behind the bar. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you around here, sweetheart. Good thing, too. You ran out some of my best-paying customers."

You don’t dwell on the comment, your mind is too absorbed, drunk off the fact that he remembers you. It’s been years, but you swear he hasn’t aged a day. You can’t help but eye fuck him as he slides a glass in front of you, and pours you a finger of whiskey. Not only does he remember you, but he remembers your go-to drink, as well. 

As you lift the edge of the glass to your lips, you see Tommy shift his gaze from Joel and back to you, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief. 

“Wait, little Miss Shark,” he begins, tipping the bottle in his hands in your direction as if to point at you, “Yo–you’re the one who ran the tables here for years? Shit, darlin’,” he says, dropping his gaze to the bartop for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s impressed, before looking back at you under his lashes. 

“That so hard to believe?” you respond, your voice coated in the warmth of the alcohol. Your cheeks are hot, but you’re not confident it’s just from the liquor; more than likely it’s a result of Joel’s eyes, heavy like boulders, that haven’t left you since he walked in.

Tommy doesn’t answer you. 

“Not my fault they underestimated me,” you retort, nursing down the amber liquid in your glass. 

Joel laughs. 

You and Tommy both turn to face him. 

“Bullshit, sweetheart. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’,” he adds, nodding his head slightly to you, the bottle hovering in his hand, signaling you for a refill. He pours a glass for him and Tommy this time, too. 

You look at him, mouth slightly agape like you’re waiting for him to finish his side of the story. He turns to face Tommy, one hand resting on the edge of the bartop, his knuckles bleaching under his weight. The other grips the glass in front of him. 

“This one used to sit at my bar, let men buy her free drinks, and then she’d work pool into the conversation,” he says, pausing to take a sip. “She’d be all, ‘I’ve never played, maybe you could teach me blah, blah’ batting her pretty little eyes until they’d cave. By the end of the night, she’d have them makin’ bets and melting like putty in her hands.” 

You try to hide your embarrassment behind your glass. He’s not wrong. You used to do that. You’re not sure if you did it because you were bored, not like there’s much else to do in this shit town anyway, or because you liked the attention, but whatever the reason you have to admit it was fun. 

Besides, most of them deserved it anyway. If losing a few hundred dollars was the biggest price they’d have to pay for flirting with a young college girl while their wives sat at home waiting for them to come home and half satisfy them, well then, you were okay with that. Plus it kept your rent paid.

But that was a long time ago; it’s been ages since you’ve even picked up a pool stick. You just hope that the old idiomatic expression, old habits die hard, rings true for you now. 

The alcohol that courses through your veins gives you a sense of confidence to be a bit bold. You prop your elbows on the sticky bartop and gaze up at Joel. “You gonna kick me out then, Joel? Punish me for all of my wrong-doings?” you flirt, testing, teasing. You flint your eyes over your shoulder to look back at Tommy, and can’t help the surge of arousal that you feel when you notice his eyes are already on your backside. You look at Joel and see the clench in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, his pupils blown wide open. 

“No, ‘m not gonna kick you out, sweetheart,” he says, filling the glasses once more. Between that and the wine from earlier this afternoon, you’re already feeling quite buzzed, and more than a little reckless. You watch him complete the pours before reaching for your glass. 

“But you are gonna have to make it up to me somehow,” he adds. Your pulse doubles and there’s a familiar tug at your navel when you think of what he might mean. Before you have time to respond, he adds “Tell you what, I’ll make you a bet this time. You see Tommy here is a bit of a pool shark himself, and well, baby you already know what I am.” Both of them look at you with dark, hungry eyes. “You beat us, you can have whatever you want,” he adds. 

Your skin feels hot, and you suddenly wish you opted for something cooler than a sweater. “And if either of you wins?” you ask. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” Joel responds, downing the last of his drink, shooting Tommy a knowing look. 

It’s a trap, you know it is. 

And yet you agree.

++++ 

Joel rounds out from behind the bar and leads the way. He walks past the front door and locks it before pulling the plug on the neon open sign that hands in the nearby window. As you three approach the pool table, Tommy picks up a cue stick leaning against the nearby wall – he twirls it in his hands and hands it to you. He picks up another and passes it to Joel, before finally grabbing a third for himself. 

“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Darlin’,” Tommy says with a wink. 

You playfully roll your eyes. “We’ll see,” you cheekily respond, toying with the end of the cue stick and rubbing chalk on the tip end of it, being a little suggestive with your movements. Both Tommy and Joel notice.

You gather around the table, and Joel sets up the balls. “Alright, break time. You’re up first, sweetheart,” Joel says. You lock eyes with Joel for a moment and fuck, this is gonna be rough. He has you so flustered and you haven’t even started. 

You refocus your gaze on the triangular arrangement of balls. You steady your feet and bend over the table, smiling a little when you feel both of them look at your ass. With a swift motion, you strike the cue ball, scattering the rest across the table, sinking a solid and a stripe into two adjacent pockets. Not so bad for being a little rusty, you think. 

Joel lets out a low whistle and looks at Tommy. “Shit, brother, we might be in trouble here,” he says. You smile at the compliment, and round around the table so you’re directly in front of Tommy. You look at Joel as you bend over the table, lining yourself up to hit the solid ball with a clear path to the pocket in front of it.

Your ass skirts against the front of Tommy’s crotch and his breath hitches in his throat. As you’re about to take your shot, a large palm ghosts over the curve of your hip, and the sensation causes you to miss the shot. Fuck. 

“Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart, you a little distracted?” Tommy coos.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.  

Joel’s up next. His broad frame rounds around the table, and his shoulder brushes against you as he does. He finds his best angle and deftly lines the cue stick up, his biceps straining under the cloth of his shirt at the new position. You walk over to the line of his shot and bend over on the opposite end of the table, your tits spilling out of the slit in your shirt, effectively distracting him. He takes his shot and misses.

They wanna play dirty. You can play dirty.  

“Ooo, good effort on that one,” you tell Joel, placating him, “better luck next time,” you conclude with a wink. Joel clears his throat and steps back from the table. 

Tommy circles the table next, attempting to find an easy shot. “So I’ve been thinking, we should make this game a bit more interesting,” you say. You watch as Tommy bends over and lines up his turn. He pulls the cue stick back, and just as he’s about to knock it against the ball, you finish “For every shot we miss, we have to strip a piece of clothing." The shock of your words causes Tommy to miss his shot. 

“Guess that means you’re starting us off,” you tell Tommy. He shoots you a look. His hands find the buckle of his belt and he undoes it, discarding it on a nearby chair. 

The three of you play like that until both Joel and Tommy are clad in nothing but their boxers and socks. You, on the other hand, are still mostly clothed, except for your sweater. Your game started rough, but despite their best efforts to distract you, you’re running the table. 

With only one ball left on the table, you walk up to where both of them stand side-by-side. You stand there facing both of them, and they allow their eyes to linger on your chest. Tommy is standing with his hands cupped in front of his crotch, in an attempt to hide his growing bulge. Joel, however, is unreadable as ever.

You lock eyes with him as you snake your arms behind your back, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. You unhook it, your nipples stiffening in response to air. He casts a quick gaze down to your breasts but doesn’t allow them to linger before he looks at you. His jaw is stiff, and he looks at you like you’re something to eat. Keeping your eyes peered into his, you hold the bra out and give it to Tommy. The moment is so charged. So many things being said with no words, all body language discussion. 

You take a few steps back before turning around to grab your cue stick that’s resting against the edge of the pool table. You walk over to the other end of the table and line up the final shot of the game. “So I’ve been thinking about what I want as my prize,” you say, bending down far enough that your tits smush against the felt on the table. “And what’s that, sweetheart?” Joel asks.  You let out a little hum of satisfaction, dragging the cue stick back. “Want you both to fuck me, right here on this table,” you add, punctuating your statement with your final shot. You watch with bated breath, releasing it when you see the last ball on the table fall into the pocket. 

The three of you stand there in silence, waiting for someone to make the first move.

“You heard her, brother,” Tommy says, advancing towards you. “A bet’s a bet.” His hands find your hips from behind, and he pulls your backside against his firm body, dropping his head to nip at your neck. His lips trail up the side of the sensitive skin there and you let out a little purr as his tongue darts out to lick your pulse. 

Your lusty gaze watches as Joel closes the gap between your bodies, and he pauses inches from you. He lifts his palm and uses the backside of it, trailing his knuckles down your cheek, over the soft swell of your chest, until his hand opens up and cups your breast. 

It’s all dizzying touch, your vision already a little fuzzy from your buzz, and with Joel’s hand on your body in addition to Tommy’s mouth, you’re the one who’s putty in their hands this time. Joel brings your nipple to a stiff peak using his thumb and forefinger, before he lifts them back up to your face. He hooks two fingers under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” Joel says, voice low. You look up at him with doe eyes.

“I know. Now what are you going to do about it?” you taunt. 

Tommy stops his affections on your neck and looks up to lock eyes with Joel. He gives a knowing smirk and Tommy reaches his arms around your body and begins to undo the button on your jeans, the zipper following, before he's pulling them down far enough for you to step out of them. 

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re going to fucking ruin you. Right here on this table, just like you asked,” Joel says. 

“Think you can handle that, hmm? Want both of your daddy’s to stuff that pretty little cunt of yours until you can’t think straight?” And fuck, he’s filthy. His words go straight to your core and you feel slick pooling in your panties, your pussy just begging to be touched.

Before giving you time to respond, his large hand comes down to cup your sex. 

“Shit, baby. All this for us?” Joel asks. Your eyes close when you feel Tommy continue his assault on your neck. You’re pinned between both of their bodies, their hard cocks pressing up against you from both angles. It’s already so intense. The want, the sheer desire you feel for both of them is almost overwhelming. 

“Use your words, Darlin’, we wanna hear it,” Tommy rasps against your skin.

“Ye–yes, all for you both, want you so bad,” you respond with a moan. A groan reverberates through Joel’s chest, and he gives Tommy the same knowing look they’ve shared all night. 

Tommy steps back and comes to stand by Joel’s side. “You’re gonna have to earn it. On your knees, baby,” Joel commands. 

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, wooden floor against your bare calves. You position yourself in front of both of them and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for one of them to give you further instructions, practically worshipping at the altar of the two gorgeous men above you. Joel reaches down and brings his pointer finger to lift your chin to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this,” he rasps. As he releases you, they both nod and you take that as permission to release both of them from the confines of their fabric prison. 

You start with Tommy, dipping your fingers beneath the band of his boxers. Instinctively, your eyes find Joel’s and you glance at him as if to ask for permission again. He nods once more, and you drag them down to the middle of Tommy’s thighs. The cock that springs free is fucking delectable; a perfect width and a sizable length. The tip is prominent and there’s a thick vein bulging along the side of it. He’s well endowed, and thank fuck for that. Your hands reach up to grasp the base of it, and your tongue darts out to lick the bead of pre-cum that’s welled at the tip. It’s salty and delicious, leaving you wanting more, more, more. 

You pull your mouth away from Tommy and replace it with your hand, slowly and firmly stroking the length of him, his skin smooth like butter under your palm. He starts to protest when he realizes what your next move is. You use your free hand to release Joel from his fabric confines and moan at the sight of his cock. Of course, they both would be blessed below the belt. As delicious as Tommy’s cock is, his older brother has a bit of a lead on him.

Truthfully, you’re not surprised in the slightest. Joel’s cock is well above average in length, but the main attraction is the thickness. Just from the looks of it, your fingers probably wouldn’t meet if you wrapped your fingers around him. His girthiness intimidates you, but you don’t scare easily. You were hungry before, but now you’re positively ravenous. You kitten lick Joel’s tip then fully suck on it, eliciting a throaty groan from him. You smile around it, pleased at yourself for being able to affect him like that.

You want to please the pair of dangerously handsome brothers, but you’re aching for praise from Joel. 

“Lay back, baby,” Tommy commands, guiding your hips up to rest against the grain of the pool table. And you do, the texture of the felt rubbing against your back in a soft embrace. Both of their hands find your chest with flat palms, and they drag them down over the expanse of your breasts and stomach. They pause, both of them face-to-face with your cunt. ‘Go ‘head brother, all yours,” Joel says to Tommy. 

And shit, the hot mouth that greets your wet core is inviting in more ways than one. His lips lock around your waiting clit and you moan in response to the sensation. As Tommy sucks at your center, his tongue making perfect rotations on your clit, you can’t help but let go.

“Shit, that’s so good – need more,” you beg, and Joel can tell the ask you’re making is for him. He slips his middle finger into your pussy, and your wall clenches around him. The pressure that Tommy applies to your clit is so good, you could probably come just from him, but the added drag of Joel’s finger sawing in and out of you reminds you that you want more, need more, need him. 

“Joel, yes – fuck, yes, please don’t stop,” you beg. Tommy continues tracing patterns over your clit and Joel adds a second, then a third finger, which you greedily accept. “More!” you beg, and Joel obliges, slipping a fourth finger into you. “Such a tight fucking cunt, not sure how I could fit another, but happy to stretch you out baby, gotta get you ready f'us,” Joel says. Tommy purrs as he laps up your release, and Joel groans, wishing he was the one at your chef’s table, sampling all of your flavors.

With the way both of them work at you, you feel like a helpless fish, caught on their hook. They dropped the bait and you were quick to bite, now having to pay the price for your decision. The both of them reel in their line, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. They drag you to the water line of your orgasm, and you give up any hope of staying below the shoreline.

Your release washes over you like a wake from a boat, an inevitable. You let the waters fall from your shore before you open your eyes and see both of them, their hard cocks staring you in the eyes. Giving you a moment to come up for air, Joel gently strokes your cheek, an act of tenderness amongst the debauchery taking place. 

Tommy gives Joel a knowing look and lifts his right leg to help hoist him onto the pool table. With you spread out underneath both of them, he positions himself right above your head. You all but drool at the sight of him stroking his cock from this vantage point, Tommy looking down at you as if he were seeing his reflection in a pond for the first time. His jaw hangs slack as he works himself from base to tip.

Meanwhile, Joel’s hands find your hips and he deftly tugs you down, so your waiting pussy is just barely hanging over the edge of the pool table. He puts your legs over his brawny forearms, bearing the weight of your lower half, and spreads your legs wide, fully exposing your glistening cunt to him.

You’re almost shivering with how badly you want his cock inside you. He grabs the base of it in one hand, the tip of him barely ghosting against your wet and dripping seam. He collects some of your arousal on him, before using his thumb to drag it over the length of his member. 

He knows he could fuck you just like this, lord knows you’re wet enough, and he's done his due diligence to stretch you, but he knows he’s a lot to take. He leans his head down and spits, his saliva falls onto the tip of him, partially covering himself and your clit. He taps the mushroom head of his cock on your clit a few times, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your bodies as he pulls it back. 

As much as you would love to focus on Tommy’s length in your face, your sole attention is on Joel, who’s about to fill you to the hilt. “Mouth wide open, baby,” Tommy begs above you, calling you back to his attention. You feign your hardest to listen. You open your jaw wide, and he places the tip of his cock on the tip of your tongue, dragging the heaviness of it over the expanse of it.

Just as he slides in deeper into your wet and waiting mouth, Joel bunts his hips forward, pressing half of him into your tight hole. It’s so much, and they’re both not even halfway in yet. 

They lock eyes with each other and synchronize their thrusts. Joel pulls back and thrusts into your cunt, and Tommy pulls back momentarily before your mouth welcomes him deeper into your throat, so deep in fact that the tip of him bumps up against the back of it, nearly causing you to gag. The corners of your eyes prick with tears, and whether it’s from the stretch of Joel’s cock, or the head of Tommy’s knocking on the back door of your throat, you’ll never know. 

“Shit, brother. She’s taking this cock so well, Jesus fuck,” Tommy mutters, thrusting his member in and out of you with a relentless pace, his hands now tangled in your hair like a bird's nest in a tree.

“God damn, you’re telling me. Little cunt is taking me so well,” and his words cause you to clench harder around him. 

“Gotta ease up baby, or both of your daddy’s are gonna fill you sooner than we both want to,” Tommy rasps behind a breathless voice, “so good, so fucking good, my god.” You revel in their doubled praise and you can’t help but clench tighter, and Joel notices. 

“Ah fuck, brother. I think that’s what she wants. Little slut wants us to pump her full of our cum,” Joel rasps, continuing his relentless pace, dragging his cock in and out of you. You moan in response, your words muffled around the expanse of Tommy, “Fuck, want you to fill me up so bad, both of you.” 

“You hear that,” Tommy says in a breathless voice. “You heard her, give the girl what she wants,” Tommy encourages Joel. And fuck. These two are going to be the death of you. 

“That what you want, sweetheart? Want Daddy Joel and Daddy Tommy to pump you full of all of our seed, want us to leave you dripping with both of us,” Joel says, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips strong enough to bruise. “Yes, fuck, fill me up, want every last drop of both of my daddy’s cum.” 

Joel looks up at Tommy.

“Wouldn’t that be quite the fucking sight? Her all round from your baby, her pretty tits engorged with milk, me fucking dribbling out of her mouth," Tommy says.

"Such a dirty little slut, so good for us,” Tommy praises. Had anyone else uttered those words your skin would crawl, but it’s different coming from the pair of them. You’d let them spread you open wide and fuck you full of their come any day. 

“Fuck, I think she likes the thought of that, I can feel her clamping down on me, gripping me so goddamn tight, brother,” Joel rasps. Your lips tighten around Tommy, and they both continue to use you, fucking you like they want, like how you know you need. They abuse both of your holes in their relentless chase for their own orgasm. 

“Shit brother, ‘m close, not gonna last much longer,” Tommy groans, and you can tell. His cock stiffens and his pulses become more and more erratic.  

“Not yet, need her to come again for us first,” Joel demands, dropping his thumb to your clit, beginning to drag slow and near-perfect circles over your sensitive bud. 

“Need you to give us one more. C’mon, you can do it,” Joel continues to egg you on. “You’re so pretty when you come, give us one more, baby. Our perfect girl, let us feel it.”

With that, your whole body convulses and your vision goes white. You can’t help the shakes that follow, your entire body trembling like an earthquake. “Fuckfuckfuck, yesssss,” you cry out, your release taking over you like watercolor paint spilling onto paper, blurring the lines your pleasure has always been confined to – until now. 

Joel and Tommy continue their movements, slowing as they reach their own peaks. “So close, baby, gonna come down this pretty fucking throat, gonna be a good girl and swallow your daddy’s thick load,” Tommy grunts out before he stills and shoots his spend down your throat. It’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth and down your chin. 

Joel watches as you greedily swallow his brother's load. “Such a good girl. You gonna tell your pretty little cunt to swallow all of me too, hmm? Gonna flood that little pussy with my load, fill you so full,” he raps. “Gonna plug you so good after ‘m done, not drop is gonna go to waste, baby.” 

You gulp, swallowing the rest of Tommy’s spend before answering, “Yes, Joel, p-please fill me up with your come, daddy,” you squawk out, voice hoarse from Tommy’s crusade on your mouth. 

“As you wish, pretty girl,” Joel teases, as if he wasn’t the one to come up with the idea. 

He thrusts once, twice and he’s filling you with his cum, just as he promised. He stills inside of you, and his forehead comes to rest on your chest. The sticky sweat on his skin makes it tacky, clinging to you in a way that parallels how you’re clinging to this moment. Both of your chests are heaving, ragged breaths coming out almost in sync. 

After a few long moments, Joel reluctantly lifts his head up and slowly pulls out, but before any of his load drips out he uses a finger to plug your hole. You gasp and your body jolts from the oversensitivity. “Makin’ sure it sticks, darlin’,” Joel coos in your ear and gently moves the stray strands of hair from your face.  

Thoroughly fucked out, you ask the pair of them, “So just out of curiosity, what would you have asked for if either of you had won?” 

They both look at each other as if to decide if they want to tell you the truth or not. 

“Come back next year for a rematch and we’ll tell you,” Tommy says. 

With the way both of them look at you, how could you not? 

It’s not even January and yet, here you are – excited for Easter. 

What a fucking plot twist that is. 

END

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @pedrostories

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

Happy New Year!

#joel and tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #threes0me #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #tommy miller fanfic #pedrohub #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #tlou fanfiction

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.7.1

Okay guys... since I'm having just too much fun writing the Beach day, here are about 7k of Beach and we're not done that's why I decided to split Pt.7 into two chapters😉

I hope you have fun with this part - the next one will be coming in a couple of days ❤️❤️

Lucy parked her beloved holy Cupra in a parking deck near the Beach to one have the car away from the sun so it won't heat up so much and two give you some more time to “prepare”. As she killed the engine she turns over to look at you

“Firstly... I'm proud of you for not destroying my Car by pushing any buttons” she grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully “and secondly... it's about a five minute walk to the Beach... it COULD happen that I get recognized by fans... if so, please don't start trouble – most of them are REALLY nice and also really respectful... but you know yourself from previous encounters there are some that are rude...” she said insistently.

“Lucy... it's not the first time I'm out and about with you...” you rolled your eyes annoyed

“You once kicked a man in the knee” your sister raised her eyebrow at you

“He was inappropriate, extremely rude, loud, demanding AND intoxicated...” you defended yourself remembering this encounter

“You were 10” your sister reminded you

“Mills and Jill bought me the biggest ice cream as a reward” you grinned happily at this particular memory

“They always rewarded you for shitty behaviour... he could have hit you... he was fairly drunk” Lucy said rolling her eyes again “but we're not talking about the past... we're talking now... please don't start trouble IF we encounter fans...”

“As long as they're cool, I'm cool” you shrugged your shoulders. Just because Lucy was the older one it didn't mean you couldn't be just as protective of her as she is of you

“I'm able too handle it, okay...” she said insistently again “... I'm not even sure if we run in to them anyway”

“Yeah okay... I TRY to behave” you huffed and opened the door “I take ice cream as payment”

“You can shove that ice cream up your...” your sister started as you smirked at her

“Kinky”

“Stop it” Lucy groaned as she took your bags and locked her car “Stanway turned you into a monster... definitely going to “talk” to her about that”

“If you hurt her I'll leak baby videos of you” you threaten her light hearted

“I know you would” your sister grinned as she laid her arm around your shoulder pulling you into her side and press a soft kiss to your temple “I really missed you Bubs”

“You're too young – never thought I'm going to say THAT but here we are – for Menopause.. what's with the hormonal stuff” you looked at her pulling a face never being one for affection in public

“Just enjoy it, Devils Spawn” Lucy mocked “and remember you can ALWAYS come to me for anything... advice, talking, venting, even if you just need a shoulder to cry on... I'm here Bubs”

“I know” you whispered softly

“Okay... than lets go... as soon as we're close to the Beach you need to stumble a lot... you did that... and you had this loopy grin... uh... and you only called Keira by her name... everyone else had nicknames... Alexia was “pretty spaniard”, Atiana was “flawless spaniard” and Mapí was “colorbook spaniard”...” your sister listed off

“I left out Ona?” you looked confused

“Oh no... she was just “spaniard”... you have another hour to find a new name for her.. and you basically got everyone to scramble around for you... just... hold back with Tana... she is shy anyway and you calling her flawless probably made her a little uncomfortable” Lucy shrugged her shoulders before asking you to told back on the flirty comments towards her teammate

“No flawless spaniard... got it” you nodded seriously – today was for funnies’ anyway

“Good... they won't take you serious if you do it right anyway, so... flirt away if you can justify yourself to your girlfriend if there are clips leaked” your sister grinned evilly

“You are honestly one big bitch” you said bewildered at her implication while she just started laughing pulling you along

Of course Lucy got recognized by some fans on your way to the Beach and she patiently signed and took pictures with all of them while you waited near by. You noticed a small girl – maybe four or five – who looked longingly at your sister. You slowly shuffled towards the girl not to startle her you crouched down next to her

“Hi” you said smiling friendly as the girl just looked at you afraid “What's your name, wee one?”

The girl just keeps staring at you but at least she didn't run or scream so you took that as a win – that's until you remember that you are in Spain where small girls probably don't speak english. You didn't speak spanish.

“Y/N” you tried it the old fashion way pointing at yourself before pointing at her looking at her expectantly smiling

“Bella” she said in a tiny whisper and you smiled wider as she answered you

“Hola Bella” you know opted to sit down next to her on the sidewalk as your sister was still occupied with signing stuff. You decided to “talk” to the girl pulling out your phone for a translation app since your spanish was more than broken – or more non existent.

“Cómo estás” the robotic voice of the App suddenly spoke and you smiled at the girl

“Buena gracias” she answered shyly which you actually understood

“¿Qué estás haciendo aquí solo?” the unpersonal voice said again after you quickly tipped in your question

“Esperanto a Lucia” Bella answered and you tried your best to type in what she said and finally concluded that she said she was waiting for Lucia

“¿Es Lucía tu... hermana? ¿mamá? Tía?” you really became a fan of that App after asking the young girl if Lucia was a relative and she seems to understand what you mean.

“No... Lucía Bronze... ella estás justo ahí” the little girl shook her head and pointed towards your sister.

“oh... OH... Lucy” you said understanding suddenly before typing quickly in your app again “¿quieres conocerla?”

Bellas eyes grow big for a minute before she started to fidget with her fingers looking down ashamed “no tengo un bolígrafo” she said quietly

“Okay... now I need your help, kiddo” you mumbled before holding out your phone to the little girl signalling her to write down what she just said. After a minute she seems to understand and started typing. You waited patiently until she handed your phone back looking at the screen looking up at her surprised

“What you need a pen for?” you said more to yourself than her typing out the question already

You communicated like this for a while and you learned that Bella was actually Isabella she was 5 years and 3 month old, she lived with a lot of children and Signora Viola in a big house, they currently are on an adventure – you looked around and saw a playground near by so you put together that the girl bolted once she saw Lucy and she was a BIG Fan of the Barcelona Femeni. You asked her again if she wanted to go over where you could see your sister wrapping things up and again the little girl got all shy. You told her that there was nothing to be shy about and that “Lucia” was just a normal person like her and you. Isabella shook her head furiously looking at you shocked comparing Lucy to “normal” people. You laughed wholeheartly before holding out your hand offering it to the small girl. After a second she took your hand and you slowly walked over to where a few fans were still standing around your sister waiting patiently.

“Oi Bronze” you yelled from a few feet away grinning widely as all heads turned to you your sister not even bothering to look up where she was signing a picture of – herself

“I said.. OI BRONZE!” you yelled louder as you came closer the little girl half hiding behind your legs

“I don't react to rude fans” your sister said calmly ignoring your presence before smiling for another picture “I thought we talked about it”

“Good thing then that I'm firstly NOT a fan and secondly I have found the most precious fan you'll ever meet” you grinned at your sister carefully pushing the small girl in front of you

“Where is her mother? Please don't tell me you kidnapped a kid” Lucy looked at you pleadingly

“Just... sign something for her it'll make her day... she doesn't have a sharpie tho...” you said and your voice told you're sister that you'll talk later. She trusted you so far that you didn't kidnap a little girl and crouched down to smile friendly at her.

“Hola soy Lucy y tu quien eres?”

“Isabella” the little girl answered shyly and pressed herself against you

“Hola Isabella, ese es un hermoso nombre.” Lucy smiled at the little girl

“Muchas gracias” Isabella mumbled “Mi mamá me lo dios antes de convertirse en ángel”

“Fuck” Lucy mumbled as it dawned on her and she looked at you “She doesn't have a mom?”

“From what I got through the app she's an orphan... and she's a big fan... so.. make her day” you gritted the last part through your teeth smiling down at the girl reassuringly

“Tu mamá eligió el nombre correcto: un hermoso nombre para una hermosa niña” your sister smiled warmly at Isabella “Qué puedo hacer por ti, Conejita?”

“no tengo papel ni lapiz” the girl sounded sad suddenly which made you perk up

“I told you to make her day not to make her sad” you looked at Lucy confused

“She said she doesn't have pen and paper so I think she would like to have an autograph but has nothing where I could write it on” your sister explained looking at you annoyed but her voice didn't show it because she didn't want to give a false impression to the kid

“Can you occupy her for hot minute?” you looked at your sister and she immediately knew you had an idea

“Sure... in comparison to you I speak spanish” she smirking at you

“In comparison to you I look good” you said before pushing Isabella towards your sister smiling at her encouraging

When you were sure the girl was happy enough talking now more freely with Lucy you searched your sisters back for her wallet before grinning brightly as you found it, took some money (a lot to be honest – but hey... she gets a good salary) and went back the way you came from the parking deck. Unknowns to your sister you immediately spotted a Jersey Shop when you exited the parking space and that's where you went. You quickly found the shop again, looking at kid jerseys as a blonde salesgirl walked over to you smiling

“Stalker much?” she asked and you immediately noticed the voice turning quickly on your heels

“Caro?” you asked confused but broke into a smile quickly as you recognized your new friend

“I see you're still alive so your sister didn't kill you?” she smiled

“She was THIS close.. but no.. she didn't kill me – but she overdosed my pain meds and let me made a fool out of myself in front of the whole team” you rolled your eyes

This made the german girl burst out laughing knowing immediately which team you were talking about

“You didn't call me.. or texted...” you said faking sounding hurt

“Yeah... funny story... I paid the Uber with your 20 – forgetting what was on the back of that bill” she said embarrassed

“Are you serious?” you looked at her stunned

“Yeah... sorry” she grinned apologetic

This time it was you bursting out laughing “That is such a Me move”

“You know I'd love to chat more but my store manager is already looking over... so... what can I help you with?” Caro put on a fake smile feeling the eyes of her boss on her

“I need a Jersey... for a five year old... Bronze on the back... and a sharpie if you sell those too” you said quickly as you didn't want to get her into trouble

“Anything you want to tell me?” the blonde grinned at you as she skilfully grabbed a plain Jersey

“Just met a girl... from what I got she's an orphan... she's a fan” you said as she pushed the small jersey into your hand and led you over to the printing station

“With the number?” Caro asked not wanting to push the subject

“Yeah... go all out... my sister is paying” you grinned thankful for the topic change as you held up a bundle of bills

About you 15 minutes later you left the store grinning a small bag in your hand and your sister about 150€ lighter (110 for the jersey and 40€ tip for the staff) but in your bag was a brand new kids Jersey with your sisters name on the back of it. You were still smiling as you rounded the last corner spotting your sister immediately sitting in the shade next to Isabella with an ice cream in her hand. You stopped for a second to take in the scene before quickly taking out your phone snapping a picture before yelling over to them

“OI BRONZE... can I have an autograph?” you grinned as her head snapped up at your voice

“Everything for my biggest fan” she smirked back at you as you walked over to them snatching Lucys ice out of her hand before tossing the bag in her lap

“Sign that and make that girls day” you said as you licked the ice cream “For good heavens... what's that?” you pulled a face making Isabella giggle

“Liquorice and Lavender” your sister answers distracted as she looked into the bag “You bought a Jersey?”

“What is wrong with you??? Are your taste buds this fucked? You have disgusting taste... and yes... I... you... you bought a jersey... a kids one... UWCL version... did you know the jerseys here are freakingish expensive?” you gagged trying to get the taste of the ice cream out of your mouth as Lucy told you you just had a lick of Liquorice ice cream

“I bought a jersey?” Lucy asked you confused as she pulled said item out of the bag

“Yep.. took your money... it's your jersey, so your money” you shrugged your shoulders taking a glance at the small girl who sat beside you silently watching your interaction but became big eyes when she saw the jersey.

“We'll talk about that later” Lucy shot you a glare before signing the Jersey and holding it out to Isabella telling her something in spanish. The small girl first smiled so widely she could have lit up a whole dark alley in seconds. Then she seems to remember something as she retreated a little bit getting a sad look on her face mumbling some spanish words. Lucy frowned at that and for you it looks like she tried to reassure the girl to take the jersey. Suddenly you noticed a woman coming running out of the playground area looking franticly around.

“Luce... I think that's this Viola woman” you nodded towards the woman with your head “I think precious Bella here bolted without telling someone”

It was in the same second as the woman spotted the little girl coming running over quickly rattling spanish words a million miles an hour – which caused you to just look at her bewildered and Lucy at least tried to keep up. Isabella looked down her hands behind her back. You gathered it was a spanish scolding which sounded even worse than all the scolding you received (are still receiving) from your sister.

“What is she saying?” you mumbled leaning slightly towards Lucy not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of that womans rant

“I have no clue” your sister whispered back

“Didn't you tell me you speak spanish?” you teased Lucy under your breath

“If she would speak spanish I would probably understand enough to string together what she's saying... but that's catalan” Lucy answered and you nodded understandingly

The womans head snapped in your direction making you shuffle carefully behind Lucy as the womans look could kill a dead guy. She took a few deep breaths before starting to talk to your sister who looked lost.

“Tell her you speak bad spanish – but not catalan” you nudged her from behind making her pushing back against you roughly but followed your idea talking to the woman in spanish. She seems to understand what Lucy tried to tell her immediately slowing down on the words pronouncing them more clear. The two talked for about five minutes (which you stayed for safety reasons behind your sister – you would easily volunteer her as a tribute if you had to) before Lucy gave the woman the little jersey and it looked like she made her something promise as you made out the words “Isabella” and “Camp Nuo”. Both – the Viola woman as you named her and little Isabella – said their goodbyes before going back towards the playground.

“Soooo... what was that about” you asked after you made sure the woman was gone

“Isabella really bolted – apparently she does this quiet often... and you were right... she's an orphan, lost both her parents about a year ago due to a car accident” Lucy said sadly “This was the housemother... she told me that Isabella is a good kid – very smart... introvert... reads a lot.. and sadly gets picked on a bunch because she's not as outgoing...”

“Luce... you told me once not as long as you play professional” you said your voice low and your sister knew immediately what you meant

“It's just not fair... I was painfully shy when I was younger and she deserves someone to stand up for her and tell her it's okay” your sister replied and you noticed it really bothered her

“I know Lucy... but.... you know yourself” you tried to bring your point across

“Yeah I know...” your sister huffed defeated

“I mean... mom would lose her shit if you come home for Christmas with a little girl calling her “Grandma”... I actually dig it...” you grinned trying lift your sisters mood

“She would definitely go hard on the egg-nog” Lucy mused but you saw a small smile tugging on her lips

“So... when are you going to see Isabella again?” you ask knowingly

“I've invited them to the next game... Viola said she needs to speak to some other people about it and yeah... I hope they can make it happen” your sister shrugged her shoulders

“Will you tell Ona... sorry... will you tell the spaniard about this incident? I really need to get into the headspace of being high” you asked mumbling the last part to yourself

“Maybe... when we have a quiet, uninterrupted moment” Lucy looked at you pointingly

“I slept till nearly lunchtime...” you defended yourself

“And I didn't met Isabella until 30 minutes ago you space cadet” your sister looks at you stunned by your not-logic

“Oh yeah... didn't think of that... uh... ice cream” you started before you got distracted by a small ice cream shop

“You really rock this pretending to be high scenario” Lucy looked at you proudly

“Thank you” you grinned “now... ice cream and then beach?”

“Course” your sister laughed as she pulled a five Euro bill out of her wallet “you really took my money???”

“It's not like I'm working” you shrugged your shoulders turning to the ice cream guy pointing to the two flavours you wanted – Espresso dark chocolate and Speculoos. Your sister paid for your ice cream grumbling under her breath but smiled as she saw how happy you looked with your ice cream cone.

“Bubs... beach rules apply for Barcelona beaches as well, do you hear me” Lucy looked at you intensely

“Awww man come on....” you whined licking away on your ice cream

“No... you don't go into the water without telling either Alexia, Keira, Ona or me... I would say Ingrid too but you haven't met her officially” your sister said stern

“It's the black haired Norwegian... girlfriend of the colorbook spaniard” you grinned being proud of yourself

“How many words did you spoke with Ingrid?” your sister raised her eyebrow as she led you towards Mar Bella Beach

“Ehrm... none?” you wrecked your brain for a second

“Exactly” Lucy grinned “By the way....” she pulled out her phone “... your hour starts... now”

Immediately your whole body language changed sinking against Lucy for support gripping your cone a little tighter starting to stumble along

“Why now?” you whispered

“Because in about 2 meters we're in eyesight...” Lucy whispered back holding onto your side tightly as you rounded the last corner

Just as your sister said you spotted the Barca femeni team immediately. Some of them were playing beach volleyball while others opted for relaxing in the hot sun and you instantly made out Keira. Which wasn’t hard – the only white white person in between a bunch of lovely tanned girls and she sat under an umbrella to not sit directly in the sun. So typical english.

“Keira is so english it's embarrassing” you mumbled making your sister burst out laughing “What... even YOU have a tan”

“Without tan-lines” Lucy smirked evilly

You really wanted to gag and whine but it would have blown your cover before your prank even began

“I hate you” you growled under your breath before getting interrupted by a VERY upset spanish voice

“Really Lucia... again??” Alexia exclaimed shocked and angry

“NOT my fault this time... she overdosed herself” Lucy held both her hands up in surrender letting go of you which made you “stumble” in the sand

“holasita pretty spaniard” you grinned trying to look as loopy as possible

“Ay dios mio...” Alexia mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose

“You look so pretty” you “slurred” and your sister gave you a secret thumbs up

“You told me before, Cariño” the Captain huffed “But thank you”

Right this moment you heard a “cuidadosa!!” and the volleyball hit you on the side of your head making you drop your ice cream cone

“María Leon!!!” Alexia yelled turning around in anger “I TOLD you not in this direction!”

“My ice cream” you whined looking down where your ice cream hit the sand

“I'll get you new ice Bubs” Lucy jumped in deciding to play along a little bit

“Oh no you won't” the blonde (pretty) spaniard interrupted your sister “María will buy ice cream... for EVERYONE”

“Que???!!!” Mapí exclaimed while you squealed happily

“I want that one” you pointed at your melting ice cream in the sand – you really liked playing the drugged one it seems to get you free stuff.

“Bubs... you need to choose something new... the place here doesn't have Speculoos... but the strawberry is really good” Lucy found fun in your little play too “supporting” you – even if it means she would lose 50€

“But I want Spec... Specs... Loos... Specloosers” you pouted mispronouncing the word on purpose

“I know... but look... you can have strawberry now and Speculoos later okay?” Lucy tried to “negotiate”

“What have you done to her?” suddenly a very arrogated Ona stood next to the two of you with Alexia still “discussing” with Mapí about how stupid actions have stupid consequences

“I did nothing... you told her where her painkillers were” Lucy defended herself again and this time you helped her out

“Thank you friendly spaniard – you're a good friend” you smiled all teeth at Ona

“You two can't be left alone for a few hours without causing trouble??” the small woman said bewildered and you heard Keira snickering behind you “Welcome to their World, Ona.. you will have A LOT of situations like these”

“Kei” you happily exclaimed turning quickly

“Hey Bitsy... come here a second, will you... your sister has to talk to the friendly spaniard for a moment in peace” your fellow englishwoman smiled inviting and you took her up on it and stumbled over to her.

“Hey Kei” you smiled “loopy” as you plopped down beside her on a towel

“For how long do I have to pretend to not notice that you definitely not high?” she asked you smirking after she studied you for a second

“What... How... Why??” you stared at her shocked

“Bitsy please... cut me some slack... I told you before... I was always able to tell.. what did Lucy promised you if you could pull this off?” Keira grinned speaking in a low voice not wanting to out you since you seemed to have fun

“50 bucks if I could pull it off for an hour without you noticing” you huffed sadly

“It took me one look if it makes you feel better” the english grinned “but I'll play along because it's actually fun seeing what you can come up with”

“Thanks Kei...” you smiled slightly before looking up “which of them did I call flawless?”

This time it was Keira bursting out laughing as she pointed at Aitana who was relaxing in the sun wearing an orange bikini, big sunglasses and a big white hat.

“At least I got that right” you looked impressed

“Do I have to remind you already that you have a girlfriend?” Keira smirked

“Doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty if I see...” you started before you stopped abruptly your mouth dropping wide open as you see another woman approaching “Fuck me sideways... WHO's that... she's gorgeous”

“Huh??” Keira looked at you surprised before turning around looking who literally made you speechless

“Really Bitsy? Are you really drooling over Jenni?” she asked you with a raised brow turning back to you

“Gonna name her sexy spaniard” you grinned texting Georgia immediately who you kept in the loop all the time

“You have a girlfriend” Keira stressed

“And she just said either sexy or damn girl spaniard...” you grinned showing Keira the text from your girlfriend

“You two are really made for each other” the englishwoman groaned starting to massage her temples knowing she will have a lot to put up with in the future

“Don't worry Kei... you're going to be the one giving me away when we get married” you grinned

“Your sister won't let me do that” the blonde grinned

“She won't be able to walk because she fucked up her knee even more and I'm not walking next to her hobbling self” you waved off

Keira laughed and hugged you into her side smiling as Lucy came over having finished her talk with Ona about how this time it wasn't her fault that you were “high”

“Hey Bubs... you behaving for Kei?” she asked you smiling

“She's very good” Keira confirmed not showing that she knew you were in fact very much not high or overdosed

“Good... wanna join me and Ona over there?” Lucy pointed over to where Ona just laid down on her towel

“Nope” you answered popping the “p” “... not getting involved in your lovey-dovey shit”

“You're unbelievable you know that?” your sister exclaimed rolling her eyes “I have a very high self-control so not everything is about... THAT”

“You can't even say sex around me... what will you do when you find out that I have sex?” you asked the fact that you could pretend to not know what you're talking about helped you immense to rile your sister up

“Don't remind me” Lucy mumbled shivering

“Our Kid is growing up, Luce... let her be” Keira laughed swatting her exes shoulder playfully

“It must be your influence... if it would my influence she'd die a virgin” Lucy grinned back

“It's young love...” the blonde englishwoman rolled her eyes but smiling “... should I remind you how we were...”

“Please don't” you interrupted quickly “I already got scarred for life by her”

“Keira, Lucy.. you remember Jenni, sí?” Alexia interrupted your little banter appearing out of nowhere right next to Lucy

“Sí... hola Jenni... Cómo estás?” your sister smiled friendly laying her arm around your shoulders pulling you into her side away from Keira

“Estoy bien, muchas gracias...” Jenni smiled back pushing her sunglasses into her hair

“Pretty spaniard” you whisper yelled waving over excited trying to get Alexias attention which made Jenni looking at you confused raising an eyebrow at your antics

“Sí y/n?” Alexia looked at you grabbing your good hand to stop your waving

“Who's the sexy spaniard?” you ask “whispering” nodding her head excessively towards Jenni

Alexia closed her eyes breathing deeply her hand shooting up to her forehead starting to massage it as Jenni made a surprised noise

“Who?” the dark haired spaniard asked confused and surprised

You stayed in “character” making a little squeaky noise trying to “hide” behind Lucy

“Overdose on pain meds” your sister grinned widely before pointing towards Alexia “this is pretty spaniard... Aitana over there is flawless spaniard, Mapí is colorbook spaniard and YOU apparently are... what is Jenni Bubs?”

“Very sexy” you mumbled from behind Lucy

“Very sexy spaniard... welcome to the gang” your sister laughed as Jenni continued to look confused as hell

“I... can't follow” Jenni said her spanish accent thick as she spoke english

“Dear Mary mother of god” you half moaned “she sounds very sexy too... keep talking” you peaked over your sisters shoulder looking at Jenni expectantly

“Stop drooling... you are in a relationship” your sister said as she turned her head looking at you

“I'm so sorry Jen... don't take her seriously... she's... she's a walking disaster but really lovely at the same time – she's Lucias little sister” Alexia explained “you can always ignore her”

Jenni slowly nodded her brows still raised. You peaked out behind your sister again trying your best to look as loopy as possible. You took a step around Lucy just for Alexia to push herself between you and Jenni

“Y/n no... sit with Keira in the shade and...” she tried to keep you away from Jenni as you happily interrupted her

“Colorbook spaniard!!!” you yelled across to Mapí and waved

“Baby Bronze!!!” Mapí yelled back and also waved happily “You're high again”

You stumbled around Alexia and Jenni towards Mapí and NEARLY got to her as you were hauled back as someone grabbed you around your waist

“No Bebita... we don't interact with Mapí right now” Ona said softly

“But she...” you started to pout but Ona ignored you successfully

“No no... no buts... come on.. back to your sister you go” the blonde spaniard said firmly

“You're mean” you pouted towards your sisters girlfriend

“And you're high... so nothing new on both sides” Ona replied dry as she pushed you forward her arms still secured around your waist while you started to wriggle around trying to get rid of Ona

“No Bebita” the blonde spaniard said sternly before looking towards Lucy who had an amused smile on her face “Help please?”

Your sister grinned as she made her way over and got in front of you “Behave Devil Spawn – or I'll make sure you'll behave”

“But the colorbook spaniard wants to play... she needs super...spicion” you lulled mixing up words

“Mapí can play with Pina and Patri... you can play with Keira in the shade” your sister said winking at you before pulling you away from Ona “Thanks for catching her in time Babe”

“No problem... I don't want to think about what these two would do” the blonde smiled slightly

“I'll let you drive my Cupra in the Camp Nuo parking lot if you get Jennis number in your “current state”...” Lucy lead you over to Keira whispering in your ear as she did so

“You serious?” you whispered back surprised

“Dead serious... because I REALLY want to witness that” Lucy chuckled under her breath

“Deal” you grinned and stumbled in her arms for good measure.

“Hey Kei... can you keep an eye on dopey here?” your sister said as she basically dropped you next to Keira

“What's in it for me?” the englishwoman smirked raising her brow behind her sunglasses

“What do you want?” Lucy asked as you already trying to bolt toward Mapí once again just for Keira to grab your shorts pulling you back down without even looking at you

“Nandos... for the next year... every time I'M home...” Keira smirked

“Okay... Deal...” your sister agreed quickly

“That's all I'm worth... Nandos? You could have had anything and you chose Nandos?” you exclaimed outraged

“Your sister has nothing I would want... so Nandos it is... and now be quiet I want to relax and enjoy my day off” Keira said as a matter of fact as your sister left grinning to herself

“I can go to the colorbook spaniard” you said happily knowing Alexia was watching you with hawkeyes and you have to remain “high”

“No” Keira said offhandly and closed her eyes “and don't even try it... firstly I will notice and secondly Alexia will notice too”

You huffed pouting glancing over to the blonde spaniard who was in a conversation with Jenni but you could tell she was having an eye on you

“What's the deal with them two” you asked quietly

“Huh?” Keira asked lifting her head to see what you were talking about “Alexia and Jenni? They had an... agreement for a bit...”

“Stress relieve agreement?” you questioned

“Yes... Alexia then met Olga” your other sister said as she laid back down closing her eyes again

“If I go to Alexia... will you stop me?” you asked already forming a plan in your head to get Jenni Hermosos number

“Oh god... what do you plan now?” Keira groaned knowing the small change in your voice

“Lucy upped the stakes” you grinned

“You will NOT hit on Alexia... I don't care what Lucy promised you, you will not embarrass you and in hindsight me since I'm responsible for you” the englishwoman said firmly

“No no no... no hitting on the scary woman... who's not so scary once you get to know her” you said quickly shutting down any concerns Keira might have

“Okay... if you go STRAIGHT to Alexia okay... I know you're not really high but I also know you AND Mapí... the two of you mean trouble” Keira pointed her finger threating at you

“I promise... and you know I keep my promises with you” you nodded your head

“Before you go... where's your sister?” the blonde asked

“Currently at the booth over there with Ona... drinking something red-ish...” you said after you spotted your sister

“You coming home with me tonight” Keira mused a smirk playing around her lips

“I am?” you asked confused

“Yes... pretty sure she's drinking Sangria... so you don't WANT to be home tonight” the englishwoman grinned as you pulled a disgusted face

“Seriously??? How do you know that??” you dry heaved

“I dated your sister for years... I KNOW what wine does to her” Keira laughed heartily as you threw out an “EW”

“Yep.... I'll definitely sleep at yours tonight” you said flatly looking over to your sister again shivering as you were “blessed” with the sight of your sisters hand on Onas ass while she drank her Sangria and laughed at something one of her teammates said (you haven't met that one now)

“Who's no.3 over there?” you asked Keira interrupting her relaxing once again

“Cata... Cata Coll... our Keeper” she answered after looking up from her position again

“Didn't she receive a yellow last game... how can a keeper get a yellow?” you remembered

“She went all Karate Kid on a player outside of her box” Keira answered patiently all your questions enjoying the interest you're showing.

You haven't showed that much interest since your last injury which she understood but it also hurted not only Keira but Lucy as well when you pulled away from them and everything that involved football. So when you started to show interest now Keira grabbed the opportunity to pull you back into it and if it was just a little bit.

“Catara Kid?” you grinned

“Basically... I'll make sure the kiddies pick up on that name” Keira laughed “I don't know what you have planned but if you want to strike you should do it now... because if you interrupt Alexia once she's relaxing you're in for it...” the blonde grinned and pointed towards Alexia who was about to sit down on her towel

“See you in a bit Kei” you quickly stood up before “stumbling” away while Keira just shook her head smiling

You knew Alexia was watching you since she twitched every time you “stumbled” ready to jump up and catch you (or pick you up). You smiled and congratulated yourself internally for doing such a good job. You came to a stuttering halt in front of her staring down on her.

“What can I do for you, Cariño?” Alexia asked carefully as you swayed slightly in the sand

“You are reeeeeaaaally pretty” you said starring down at Alexia who rolled her eyes but smiled anyways

“You came all the way over here to tell me? That's very nice of you, pequeña” the blonde spaniard smiled friendly not even trying to argue with you

“No... I want to ask you something” you mumbled looking around

“Oh... okay” Alexia looked a little taken aback “What's your question, Cariño?”

“Where is the sexy spaniard... I want to ask her something” you grinned loopy

“You want to ask Jenni something? And what would that be?” the blonde raised an eyebrow expectantly

“It's not your business that I want to ask her how she's so sexy” you “spilled” part of your plan – which you did on purpose

“Ah... okay... you just need to turn around and ask her” Alexia grinned having seen Jenni standing behind you

You turned quickly losing your balance and stumbled backwards right over Alexia and fell into the sand with a squeak. Jenni chuckled lowly as she delicately stepped over a swearing Alexia crouching down next to you

“You okay, little Bronze?” she asked smiling as you let your head fall back with a groan

“Peachy” you groaned out kind of embarrassed but since you were smart you turned the situation into your favour “I hate sand... is everywhere” you mumbled

“Yeah... sand tends to do that if you fall into it” the black haired spaniard chuckled

“Is your fault... sneaking up on me's not nice” you slurred

“I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you” Jenni smiled

“You not scary... Lexia is scary... she yelled at me you know” you mumbled as you brushed some sand of your arms

“Did she now? That's not very nice Alexia” the dark haired grinned at the blonde

“Explain to her WHY I yelled.. and I didn't even yell at you – I yelled at María” the blonde answered rolling her eyes

“I know spanish, you know... wait...” you said acting like you have to remember it

“Don't hurt your head, Cariño... you promised to never say it again” Alexia quickly interrupted your thoughts as you yell out a victorious “HA” and turning to Jenni

“Cállate la Boca, matildo hijo de puta! That's it... that was what I learned” you smiled widely at the shocked face of the dark haired one

“Dios Mio...” the blonde groaned “You can't remember your own name but THAT you remember”

“Mapí taught you that?” Jenni asked still working through her shock

“Yes ma'am” you grinned proudly

“I can see why Alexia yelled at you... that's something very bad to say” Jenni said firmly “Don't say it again”

“Say what again?” you said acting like you already forgot what you said just a minute before

“The spanish phrase you just said” the dark haired answered confused

“Give up, Jen... she won't remember anyway... it's easier to play along... she tells me every time she sees me that I'm pretty” Alexia chuckled shrugging her shoulders

“You are pretty” you said coming closer to Alexias face “so pretty”

“See what I mean...” the blonde directed to her fellow spanish national teammate “... thank you, Cariño... it's always nice to get a compliment”

“Okay wow... WHAT did they give her” Jenni laughed loudly

“Ask Ona... she apparently got her the good stuff for a sprained wrist... where is your splint by the way Cariño?” the blonde answered Jennis question before noticing your missing splint

“Was uncomfortable... left it home” you mumbled shyly

“It doesn't help your recovery if you don't listen to the doctors Cariño” Alexia sighed

“Look who's talking” Jenni mumbled under her breath

“But it hurts... not a nice splint” you pouted sadly

“I know Cariño... but it helps you getting better faster” the blonde said sympathetically

“You know...” you started before throwing in a theatrical pause “... you are so pretty”

“Ugh...” Alexia huffed out at your short attention span as Jenni laughed again

“This is amazing...” the dark haired laughed

“You are very sexy” you smiled loopy

“Thank you little Bronze...” Jenni laughed “... but I think it's time for getting rid of the sand, hm?”

“Ugh...” now it was your time to huff “... I hate the sand... gets everywhere”

“I know... come on... I'll help you wash it off since you would probably drown in the shower” the dark haired laughed

“You sure? I can too” Alexia looked at the two of you sceptical

“It's okay... It's my fault she fell...” Jenni nodded smiling

“Yeah... it's her fault” you threw in for good measure

“Off you go then... don't leave her out of your sight for a second... she'll be gone, trust me” the blonde warned before making a shoo-motion with her hand

Jenni pulled you up into a standing position and you swayed around a little bit

“Huuuiii” you smiled as you swayed

“And you probably need some water too.... I'm pretty sure your circulation is low...” the dark haired spaniard smiled friendly as she grabbed your hip securely

You leaned against her letting her lead the way towards the public showers passing your sister on the way you held onto Jennis waist hearing Lucy choke on her Sangria as she realized who just passed her. You grinned to yourself knowing exactly how it must look to anyone as you held your other hand up behind your back flipping your sister off.

#woso image #keira walsh x reader #lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni #ona batlle x reader #lucy bronze #jenni hermoso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

[catboyieejeno]

nct dream reaction ₊˚ପ⊹

➸ the dreamies as boyfriends.

alt title: the dreamies are boyfriend coded—that's all.

content: gn! reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, mentions of food

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark is very easily flustered in general, so what is he supposed to do when the prettiest person ever is just simply existing in his presence? just remembering you're in the room and stealing a glance your way awakens the most teenage-boyish feelings within him, tips of his ears red and nerves bubbling as if he isn't already in a relationship with you

he's endeared by the most minute gestures and quirks of yours, the ones that go unnoticed by others. like your little huff when you're frustrated or the way you scrunch your nose when you're not satisfied or contemplating something

they way you randomly squeeze his hand when you guys are walking will drive him up the wall. this man will audibly gasp or squeak, clutch his chest, and squeeze his eyes shut to recover from the way his heart is suddenly and fiercely pounding in his chest

he's constantly geeking out over you, though he doesn't gush to the dreamies too often. they'd just make fun of him and tbh he doesn't wanna hear it, but on occasion he'll talk to jaehyun or johnny since they're close and more than willing to lend an ear

can only go so long without a kiss from you. i give him maximum two hours (sometimes sooner) before he's looking into your eyes in that way that tells you he's going to kiss you

his hands would come up to hold your face and his lips would mold into a soft, doughy smile before pressing into yours. it's delicate and lingering, and he breathes you in every time, hands only leaving your face to wrap tightly around you and hold you close to his chest

would do the typical 'wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb' when you're eating together or pick an eyelash from your cheek, holding it up and insisting you make a wish and blow it away so it comes true

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

we know renjun has no filter, but i don't see him being too frequently outspoken about his feelings with/towards you; he's slightly reserved in this regard because giving cheesy compliments feels slightly foreign and awkward and he doesn't thinks it's something he's good at

initially, that is.

that reservation lasts up until the moment the most unplanned, instinctual, and heartfelt "gosh, i could look at you forever," leaves his lips.

he didn't plan to make you flustered; in fact, he didn't even plan on saying it out loud. he was just obliviously voicing his thoughts, but once he saw the flush of red that spread across your cheeks, eyes dreamy and wide with surprise, renjun questions how he ever went a day without being the reason for this look on your face.

huang renjun pays so much attention to detail when it comes to you, whether it's about your favorite food/restaurant or your coffee order or the different scents/products you like. you'll literally never have to repeat yourself with him, he's always listening very closely and noticing all the small things about you that no one has ever picked up on

he's so gentle and considerate, an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of guy. constant acts of service, making sure you keep up with meals, helping with chores, naming and watering your plants, etc.

and, undoubtedly, he's definitely the best out of the dreamies at taking care of you when you're sick.

now... he will wear a mask and wont kiss you until you're 100% better

or at least until he's sure you're not contagious

but you can bet this boy is making you fresh tea and soup daily, checking your temperature every thirty minutes, rubbing menthol on your chest and running you a bath + sticking a towel in the dryer so it's warm when he wraps it around you and gets you ready for bed

will not leave your side until you make a complete recovery

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

his natural resting state is his face tucked into your neck or shoulder

before he's even opened his eyes on an early morning, his face is nuzzling into yours, lips nibbling at your neck, plush and wet and leaving the lightest of kisses on your warm skin. he's completely enveloped by your scent, lulled to sleep for a bit longer by the sounds of your even breaths

if you're standing in a queue or at a party, he'll rest his cheekbone onto your shoulder, both arms wrapping around your waist. occasionally he'll leave a kiss on the nearest accessible spot of exposed skin, but since he's the shyest member (according to the dreamies), he might not do much more in regards to PDA

hand holding is a must though, especially when it's cold and your linked hands are tucked into his jacket pocket. so cheesy but you gotta let it slide bc it's lee jeno

loves to help you pick your outfits/shop with you... loves it.

has absolutely all the patience in the world, and will watch you with stars in his eyes as you style yourself, nervously offering his opinion every so often

will ask you to get up from your seat so that he can take it and pull you onto his lap instead. 7/10 times he'll get hard but can you blame him...

speaking of laps, please let him nap on yours :( jeno will pout and beg for a chance to sleep on your thighs or tummy, insisting that the quality of his sleep is drastically improved when he's on you. also, it's implied that he wants you to massage his scalp and play with his hair... will be out within five minutes if you do

and if he were to stir awake and the lights in the room were too bright, he'd tiredly drag your hand over to rest on his cheek and shade his eyes so he can keep sleeping

would absolutely love if you showed an interest in any of his hobbies

for example, he'd be so giddy if you let him teach you how to play a video game, holding your hand over the mouse and keyboard and pressing your fingers down on the buttons as he mutters instructions into your shoulder

or if you wanted to ride bikes with him or go to the gym with him, he'd be so attentive and watchful over you, making sure you have a good time doing the things that he likes

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

the partner privilege is real with this one

like, he'll be actively feeding you a bite of his food and another member would ask to try it, and he would immediately complain (even though he eventually gives in anyway) just because ugh! it's not the same as letting you have some, you know?

and on the topic of food, when you try his, he will be feeding it to you. no, he will not let you do it yourself so don't even try it—lee donghyuck lives and breathes for the way you roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before accepting the spoonful he so meticulously prepared for you, cheeks stuffed because it was probably too much. he'd even coo at you, going on about how cute you look and asking how you like the taste

will feel betrayed if you watch an episode of a show you're meant to be watching together without him. and while he's on tour or stuck at the dorms, he will facetime you so you can watch it together

he's genuinely so enamored and obsessed with you, in a way that might not even be entirely normal or sane. loves laying on your chest so that he can hear your heart and yes, he will shamelessly ask you to scratch his back, humming contently after each drag of your nails on his skin

cannot seem to get enough affection, ever

also cannot seem to get close enough to you. if it was possible, he'd merge into you to be closer but since it isn't, he'll just have to settle for cuddle sessions where he's wrapped around you like a koala, leg swung across you and pinning you in place.

he's a little dependent when he's with you, so he has a bit of a hard time when he's on tour. hyuck needs to talk to you and hear your voice and he will do anything and everything necessary to make that happen, whether it's staying up ridiculously late, or getting up before the sun to match your schedule. when he's away, he misses you so, so bad that it literally and physically hurts

and he's so soft on these phone calls, constantly reminding you that he misses you and your voice and your touch

he'll endlessly tell you that he loves you, all teasing and jokes aside—he can go back to doing all that when he gets home. for now, he's rambling about all the things he did that day that you would have liked and promising that he will bring you there one day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

the honeymoon phase never truly ends when you're dating na jaemin. he is the biggest flirt, and i do not say that lightly

compliments and teases you like it's second nature because it is. he's constantly trying to swoon you and is not at all shy about skin-ship, clinging to you when he feels like he needs a bit of extra loving.

i think people underestimate how romantic jaemin is because he tends to be a bit subtle about it, and contrary to popular belief, i think he'd only really pull that side of him out in private, only for you to see. he's not particularly against PDA, just prefers to soak you in when the two of you are alone and together

slow kisses that hide how eager and enamored he really is, fingertips softly grazing all the way up your arms until they disappear into the back of your hair. it's insane how every kiss feels like the first with him, just as exciting, giddy, and warm.

if he has to get up before you for practice or schedules, he'll leave a kiss on your forehead before literally tucking you in, promising to be "back home and in your arms before you know it!"

when i say na jaemin would do anything to make you happy... that is not at all an exaggeration

movie night? you can pick the film and snacks. a couple's trip or vacation? he'll have you make a list of everything you wanna do and follow it through to the very last detail. an argument or disagreement? you're always in the right. if he so much as senses it's escalating, he'll quickly apologize. whatever it is you're fighting about, it's not worth upsetting you over. genuinely has so much love for you, he doesn't ever want to see you unhappy.

learns the recipes to your favorite foods so that he can make them for you whenever you want/crave them

if you were comfortable with it, he'd shower with you every single day, it's literally his favorite thing

and it's not even sexual half the time bro :( i mean... unless you wanted it to be

it's his fingers slowly scrubbing the shampoo into your scalp, hands massaging your upper back and shoulders, applying your facial cleanser and drawing shapes into the foam on your cheeks and forehead...

will 100% hog the hot water, though

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

uses humor to flirt with you

even when he's mad at you he's still cracking jokes lmfao

kind of mean when he's playing around, but he knows to never take it too far. he doesn't actually want to hurt your feelings, he only wants to convince you that he's not as infatuated with you as he actually is.... although sometimes he slips up lol

like, he'll be gawking at you with so much love in his eyes, then suddenly crack a joke or poke fun at you. it might be quite confusing for an outsider, especially since after he's done laughing at you, he'd lean in and peck your cheek as a wordless truce. you're used to it by now though, and it's honestly kinda sweet because you know by now that pestering is his own way of showing you that he loves you

will pretend to ignore you so that you're forced to ask him for attention because he likes feeling needed/wanted by you

chenle is the personification of the phrase 'dating your best friend'. there's no one who makes you laugh quite as hard as him, or who knows you as well as he does. and, even at times where he isn't the most directly affectionate, he's still following you from room to room as you go about your day, dramatically dragging his feet bc where are you going without him :(

if you praise him for any reason at all, you've immediately turned him into putty and rendered him incapacitated—his cold front has been breached, and no amount of shrugging or 'tsk'-ing from him can hide the grin on his face or the way his eyes have softened and molded into hearts

your approval means everything to him, and he'd never tell you, but he'd constantly worry if he was enough for you or if you deserved better

when he is in an affectionate mood, you can expect lazy kisses just about anywhere. he gets in these moods when he's sleepy, far too tired to keep up his cold act, choosing instead to nestle himself in your warmth and soak in everything that is you.

instead of playing with his ring to go to sleep, you find that he frequently falls asleep, quietly snoring, with the material of your shirt clutched in his hand

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

is touch-starved and it shows!

but the idea of outwardly asking you for affection terrifies him, so every time you perform any kind of skin ship, he desperately tries to express how much he likes it by smiling at you or leaning into your touch in hopes that you catch on to the fact that he loves it and he loves you and he wants more

eventually, as he grows more comfortable in the relationship, daring to initiate some touching of his own... as soon as he reaches this point, you realize there's no stopping him

he'd pick up the cutest little habits like spontaneously kissing you mid sentence because he just can't help himself or wait until you're done speaking bc he just needs to kiss you now or he'll die

that, or he'd catch himself playing with your fingers as he listens to the sound of your voice or while the two are laying down and you're telling him about literally anything

his thumb will be brushing ever so gently over your wrist, knuckles, and fingers as he hums to ensure you that he's still listening, his deep voice making his chest rumble under your cheek

but his favorite habit he's developed by far would be having you curled up on his lap, and it's not even in a sexual way or whatever

genuinely, he's never felt more at home

jisung busies himself caressing your soft skin or playing with your hair as you both mindlessly talk about random topics

and all of a sudden he's hyperaware of the situation and his heart swells up with love + a brush creeps up on his cheeks because hahaha wdym you're sitting on his lap rn??!?!?!

and if you glance up at him, fully expect him to get more flushed and hide in your shoulder

constantly buys you your favorite snack but eats most of them before you get around to trying them :( but like you can't even be mad

overall very soft and baby and just about anything you do makes him fall in love with you again

⋆ ★

#nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct moodboard #nct #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream reactions #nct dream renjun #hyuck scenarios #hyuck x reader #lee dong hyuck #hyuck #nct hyuck #haechan #mark #mark lee #jeno scenarios #jeno #jeno fluff #jeno imagines #jaemin #chenle #jaemin fluff #renjun #donghyuck #nct scenarios

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

♡ Message From Your Soulmate ♡ 

Take what resonates and leave the rest and know that you're the one in control of your life at the end of the day. . . .

P I L E 1 - Through the Fire

Five of Pentacles, Wheel of Fortune (Reversed), Page of Cups, The High Priestess, Justice

Okay. First off, your person wants to say that you are their gift and that you are their surprise. They are so lucky to have you! (omg, I'm gonna cry!!!) Your person is saying that they know that you feel like they have abandoned you and you may have doubts about if this person even exists. They do exist. Your person is real, and they are working so hard to get to you. There have been delays in your union because you are trying to be too in control of the situation. Your person wants you to focus on your own growth and being the best version of yourself for yourself. They are going to come in so unexpectedly and it's going to feel so magical. This is not an ex. I'm serious. Let it go. I'm also getting the communication will be so good and so full of passion and romance! Your person wants you to listen to your inner voice and find the strength to be who you really are. You can look forward to learning a lot from each other. There is a balance in this relationship that you may not be used to. This person sees you as their equal. For some of you, there is a specific person who comes to mind when you read about soulmates, divine counter parts and the person that you want to spend this lifetime and every lifetime with. I want you to know that you aren't crazy. It's them. Just give them some time. Everything is going to work out and you will be together.

Extra channeled message: I love you, I love you, I love you, my sweet star. Hold on to me as tightly as I am holding on to you. Just remembering that you are out there for me, keeps me going; keeps me coming toward you.

Channeled Song: Through The Fire - Chaka Khan

Through the fire, to the limit, to the wall// For a chance to be with you// I'd gladly risk it all// Through the fire Through whatever, come what may// For a chance at loving you I'd take it all the way// Right down to the wire// Even through the fire//

if you want a personal reading, you can e-mail me at [email protected]

if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage

P I L E 2 - my love is mine, all mine

King of Pentacles, Temperance, The Chariot, Ten of Cups, Nine of Pentacles (Reversed), Strength

Baby, you are so safe with me. Your person is so sweet and kind! I'm getting that they are a protector and very cuddly. I am going to be so gentle and so caring with you. You will never have to worry about anything when you are with me. Even if I am not with you, consider it taken care of. I am getting that this person has always been yours. In every lifetime, they have found you and made you so damn happy. This lifetime will be no different! Every universe, every life; I will love you, deeply. I cannot wait to grow old together. This person is a very dominate type, especially when it comes to you. One who likes to take the lead... in more ways than one. (my lord...) Your soulmate sees you as their happiest ending and they want you to know that they will never truly be happy if they don't have you. Unlike the previous pile, I am getting the energy of this being someone that you may know already, maybe even someone who is currently an ex. They have changed in some way, or the stars have aligned for you two to be together again. I'm getting that this person is really successful. Like... really freakin' successful. On the outside looking in, this person seems to have it all, but they don't feel complete because they don't have you but once they do, they are never going to let you go. You are theirs. (Okay, maybe this person is a little bit possessive but not in a toxic way. Definitely set boundaries about that kind of thing.) This love is so strong, so powerful. Wow.

Extra Channeled Message: You have consumed me; mind, body and soul, you have consumed me. You make ruins of me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I gladly give you my heart to do as you please. If all I can have of you is your destruction of my heart, I will take it. You have me.

Channeled Song - My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

My baby, here on earth// Showed me what my heart was worth// So, when it comes to be my turn// Could you shine it down here for her?

if you want a personal reading, you can e-mail me at [email protected]

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P I L E 3 - My babe would have me

Eight of Swords, Nine of Cups, The Chariot, Seven of Wands, Knight of Pentacles

I have been through a lot when it comes to love. My heart has been broken over and over again but with you, it's different. You are a dream come true, my love. There is an energy present that is telling me that your person is going through a lot right now. It feels like a Dark Night of the Soul. They are definitely going to come out on top though. They are a fighter, and they have the upper hand in whatever they are dealing with. Part of the reason that they are doing this work is because they want to be the best for you. They want to be good enough for you. (Even though they already are!) This person is worried that they aren't good enough and that you will leave them or won't choose them! They are so sure about you though. They know that you are what they want in this world. They are working hard on a lot of parts of themselves because you are so worth it. I feel like, just like the previous pile, you may already know or be in union with this person or this may be about an ex. Like, I need you know that this person is working so hard. They are going to show, not tell you how much they have changed. Like this is a whole new person.

Extra Channeled Message: I want you to know that yes, I am working on me so that I can be better for you but it's also for me, too. It has been so hard to go through this healing, but it has been worth it, and I am glad I decided to change. I am glad that I decided to heal, and I like the person that I am now and who I am becoming. I am going to make sure we have a really good life together, my love. I refuse to make your day harder or to make you cry. You are far too precious for that. I love you to the moon and back.

Channeled Song: Work Song - Hozier

My babe would never fret none// About what my hands and my body done// If the Lord don't forgive me// I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me//

if you want a personal reading, you can e-mail me at [email protected]

if you feel called to tip, you can on c@sh@pp at $oddlycozycottage

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

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