#only bland cereal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seresinhangmanjake · 5 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it.

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions.

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery.

“So I was thinking,” he says.

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals.

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached.

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so.

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises.

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin.

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both.

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats.

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake.

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks.

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed.

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy.

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs.

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks.

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines.

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe.

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head.

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination.

Your eyes snap up.

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake.

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later.

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin angst

582 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 5 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 7

You just have to trust him one last time.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, Angst, minor injury, emotional kook, some lore [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

Collab with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Back home, he’s pacing.

He’s broken a plate in the sink while doing the dishes, cut his hand a little because of it, and he doesn’t know where you’ve put the first aid kit. And he also doesn’t want to text you and ask you because if he’s annoying you then he’s only gonna make it worse for himself to get on your good side again, and you’ll also scold him for being clumsy again.

So he just puts a random bandaid on his hand, and moves to vacuum the floors.

His plan is to have all the chores done by the time you get home, so that your mood will be good and he can work on falling into your favor again. He hopes that you’ll just stay over at your friend's for one night, that you’ll text him soon to ask him to pick you up- so that he can show you that the time of torture is over now, all of his work sent out and work email and phone now on vacation mode. He’s all yours again-

And he’s just waiting for you to be his again as well.

You’ve not really talked to him besides a morning game of battleships while he was eating bland cereal (because the milk tasted weird and he didn’t know if it was bad or not- and you weren’t there to ask), and that’s fine. Well it’s not really fine, but he accepts it as maybe your way to get back at him. And it’s a relatively small price to pay, considering the shit he’s pulled you through- just as long as you return to him.

He’s tripping over the cable of the old vacuum and almost falls face first onto the floor, just to catch himself on the edge of a table, causing the cable to tighten and pull the plug out of the socket. And in an odd way, the sudden silence makes him feel like he’s drowning. Usually, especially on a day like this, you’d both be running around the house to see who can get their shoes on first just to not be the one who’s gonna pay for the food you’re about to get. Or you’d both be still tangled in the sheets in bed, still drowsy from sleep and the exhaustion from your usual indulgence in love prior to falling asleep. Or you’d have some music on while folding laundry, jumping around in nothing but panties and another stolen shirt of his.

But you’re not here. What if that’s how it’s going to be from now on? Forever?

He’s biting his lip to prevent himself from becoming emotional again as he sits down in his office, opening the drawer underneath. Your present is still in there, safely tucked away in a fancy little box, and he just hopes that you can understand why he went through this with you the way he did. Growing up, he’s always been fed with this obsession of success, that if he’s not the one doing the sole work himself, then he’s not allowed to call his success his own. With a father in a law firm, a brother running a multi-million worth business, and a mother that owns several restaurants, he’s basically always been the black sheep.

Tattooed, pierced, designing his stupid games all day, and with no very impressive wealth to show for himself, he doesn’t have the best relationship with his family, if any at all. So he just became a husk, and accepted any form of love he could get- fucking around until he met you-

Someone who didn’t care. Someone who liked him just the way he was, with all his flaws and odd habits and frustrating traits. You challenge him, you’re not treating him like a stupid failure, you make sure he knows his worth despite the big gap between him and his brother for example. And maybe that’s what made him so attached to you over the course of time- he just can’t imagine a life without you anymore, because especially now, he notices how much he needs you.

And it’s not about the chores, or about the fact that you constantly save him from food poisoning- it’s your presence.

“Urgh!” He yells out, hands on his face as he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“What’re you yelling for?” Your voice rings out, and he immediately slams the drawer shut, movement of his body stiffening up so quit that he crashes his knee into the underside of the desk, shaking everything on it, as he hisses but gets up anyways, limping towards you to pull you close. “Kook-“ you mumble muffled against his shoulder, but he just sways you around from left to right, head buried in the crook of your neck.

“Welcome home-“ he rambles, moving to kiss your cheeks before he freezes, wide eyed. “-fuck I should’ve asked if I could kiss you right? Shit babe I’m sorry-“ he rants, and you roll your eyes, running your hand through his slightly greasy hair.

“Its fine. Why’s the vacuum thrown around like a murder victim though?” You ask, detaching yourself from him as you move to pick it up and roll up the cord of it.

“I..wanted to do the chores before you came home. Which by the way-“ he says, following you around like a lost puppy. “-why didn’t you ask me to pick you up? It’s cold outside..” he whines, and you shrug.

“Gave me some time to think.” You say, and at that, he tenses up. “Jungkook.. I..” you sigh, before you turn around to face him. “I still don’t know why you’ve been like this and it really hurt me-“

“I can tell you now!” He rushes out. “Like, not all of it but most of it- enough of it, I promise!” He presses.

“I don’t want you to make up shit. If you don’t like me like that anymore-“ you begin, but he shakes his head, frantically pulls you closer to hug you.

“Don’t ever think like that. I love you, I really do..” he mumbles against the top of your head. “And I’ll prove it to you, promise.” He urges.

“How?” You meekly ask, unable to resist snaking your arms around his torso as well.

“Just trust me one last time.” He whispers, and it sends a chill down your spine just how serious he sounds.

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

521 notes · View notes

pirateprincessblog · 2 years

Text

Read For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (new!)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: books, fanfictions, TV shows and games took your excitement about real life away. nothing has your heart beating fast, everything is pretty much the same and dull to you. nobody could pull you out of your void of fantasy for a long time. still, your best friend decides to try one last time. she does succeed, but not in the way she meant. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, best friend's father seonghwa 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: in my dilf atz phase.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

Buried into your books and the void of the fantasy world, you had little to no excitement left in your body for the real life events. They lacked... something. Everything was awkward, miscalculated, weird and stiff. In books, the world was so fluid. Tension, passion, strong emotions like love and hate were on almost all pages. It filled your empty memories and fantasies just right. You now wished to drop out of college, buy a castle, run into a mysterious higher vampire and be the reason he exists as a good person now. Or maybe succeed in going through the wall and ending up on Platform 9¾, preferably face first into Cedric Diggory's chest.

Erotica isn't foreign to you either. They say the dirtiest ones are usually the virgins. And they weren't wrong. The amount of frustration trapped in you did you no good. You used to wonder how your male friends could do it so often, but once you got a taste of that side, you understood better than anyone. Countless nights of your fingers working on all your sensitive buds had you only wishing for more, even after release. It just wasn't enough. You hoped for a miracle every single time. You hoped that one of the men from your fantasies would appear in your room and satisfy you just how you wanted. Wouldn't it be just perfect if Henry Cavill appeared in the room? Preferably in his Witcher costume? If not him, then Lee Dong Wook would do equally good.

You drop your book on the bed. Your eyes skimmed over words, but you didn't pay attention to a single thing that was written. You decide to take a break from reading. Maybe you could even drink your first glass of water today. The sun was almost setting, yet you only had a bowl of cereal and half of a pizza slice. You glance at the clock. You despised it. It only reminded you of how fast time flies. You didn't even get to the steamy part of your fantasy, yet you already had to get dressed and wait for your friend in the driveway.

Your college best friend is back from her seasonal vacation in the Alps. Or was it Greece this time? It didn't even matter. It seemed like they only went to keep the tradition, not because they wanted to. She was probably richer than the whole college combined, yet she didn't know where to use all her fortune. So she settled for buying presents for her friends, which is why you now have a full wall covered with books and collectible figures and movie props.

Thirty minutes later, you are outside, your eyes searching for a black Mercedes with light up wheels and a suspicious looking driver. All three of their bodyguards were funny. They weren't as they described them in books. Her bodyguards were stiff, bland, and didn't say more than a greeting. You didn't exactly expect them to flirt with you any chance they get like you were used to on the pages, but the behaviour was still a disappointment for you.

Chills run up your spine as you watch the sun set. You regret picking out the outfit you are wearing. As if you weren't aware that the summer days are far behind. You wore the dress you got from her last trip to Paris. She had a great fashion sense and loved fashion in general, and to turn down her clothes meant a heartbreak for her.

"As soon as I saw it, I thought: her."

The way she described how she found it was amusing to you. It was knee-length and had long see-through sleeves. You felt the prettiest in it.

Finally, you heard the familiar engine. You didn't even have to look. The vehicle pulled up in front of you, and before the driver could get out, the door opened. A tall masculine figure stepped out of the car, and opened the door all the way for you. You feel chills run up your spine once again, this time not from the cold, but from the sight in front of you.

The man in front of you was absolutely stunning. He had the sparkliest and biggest eyes you had ever seen, broad shoulders, a confident smirk and-

"Dad, stop messing with her! She will think she is going to get kidnapped!" Your friend's voice yelled from inside the car.

You gulped, eyes still not leaving his face. In the three years of your friendship with her, you never saw her parents. Especially her father. Not even on photos. So, naturally, you'd need time to recover from this shock.

"Whenever you are ready."

The man politely bowed his head towards the seats, then stepped back so he could close the door after you. He sat in the front seat, then nodded towards the driver as a sign to turn on the engine.

The ride was peaceful, if you exclude your friend's nails clicking against the phone screen.

"I hear you like books." The words drip from his lips like honey.

You blush at simple eye contact through the rear mirror. His gaze has your fingers playing in your lap and your thighs pressed together.

He is so hot.

"I do, Mr Park."

"That's lovely. It's rare to find people in younger generations that enjoy reading. They mainly use it as a reason to bully someone."

"It truly is," you confirm, wanting to keep the conversation going. "You enjoy books too, Sir?"

Fathers of your other friends usually tell you to call them by their names. But not Park Seonghwa. He sure as fuck is not like other fathers you've met. You don't remember the last time your cheeks felt so hot because of someone.

"Of course. I have a whole library in my house. You are free to see it if you wish. My sweet social daughter will show you. Won't you, darling?"

His gaze switches to your friend, who is too invested in the ongoing conversation on her phone to pay attention to the one happening in real life.

"Sure, sure."

Park Seonghwa shook his head with a chuckle, then sat back in silence. You looked around you. The girl next to you was dressed beautifully as usual. It surprised you how she could make all those weird elements feel so ordinary and pretty. You, on the other hand, struggled to pair the jeans and a top. You barely figured out which shoes went with the dress. You felt underdressed. Her father wore a suit, and she had an elegant short blazer which matched her trousers, paired up with heels and a matching purse. You had a phone in your hand and a tote bag with your pajamas for the night. And a jacket to keep you warm. It didn't go with the outfit you had poorly put together at all. You wanted to run back home and wear something more fitting for the house you'll be staying in for a day or two.

You were in it once. You felt ridiculously small inside it. The ceilings were so high, dazzling chandeliers hanging from them. The windows were tall and in a minimalistic style. You only wondered how much time it took to clean them. They had all sorts of things you thought were unnecessary. Like a pool. The beach was just fifteen minutes away, the pool was there just to show off. So many bedrooms also had you confused. Since Spring, only two people live there now; your friend and her father. The mother filed for a divorce as she found love in a tourist from Poland. Poor Mr Park.

"Let's go," your friend finally put the phone away.

It took you a few moments to take in all the differences that were made. The portrait of a woman and a child above the fireplace was now gone and replaced with one of the man you just met and a young lady in which you found a sister 3 years ago.

"Anyone want my famous fig cheese prosciutto bites?" The man held a silver plate full of the said bites in front of the girls.

"No, dad, disgusting. Fruit and meat?"

"Growing up this spoiled one would think your taste in food would get better. Chicken nuggets don't really pass as an appetiser meal."

You watch with amusement as the two exchange a few funny grimaces, before your friend makes her way towards her room. "You eat some of that, since I know damn well you didn't eat shit today."

"I so did."

"You're so lying, bitch."

You laugh, ready to throw the word right back at her, when you feel Mr Park's gaze on you.

"Cuss her out all you want. It is none of my business."

"No, no. It's not quite appropriate for someone to talk like that."

In front of you, you add in your mind.

He hums, then smiles at you. "Bite?"

"I'd love to."

It takes only an eyebrow raise from him to let you know that you could've worded it better.

"I mean, I'd love one."

You take one from the plate, then admire it. Were you supposed to shove the whole thing in your mouth? Maybe pull it apart and eat it in rows? Bite into it?

"I don't usually try to poison my daughter's friends, doll. Just enjoy it. If we don't eat these tonight, they will go bad and I'll have to throw them away."

The little nickname slip had your toes wiggling in your shoes. He is so effortlessly breathtaking. Seeing that you're still struggling with the food, he takes one bite in his hand. He removes the toothpick holding the ingredients together, then steps towards you.

Every thought you had in your mind until then disappeared. Park Seonghwa gently cupped your lower jaw, and you relax into his touch. You look straight into his eyes as he puts the food between your lips. When you fail to move on your own, he smirks with amusement. Two fingers gently push the food into your mouth, resting on your tongue for a split second.

"Can you chew that for me?"

You feel your core throb. You feel fragile and weak under his touch. Most of all, you feel horny for your friend's dad. You remember to blink, then start chewing on the delicious food. He does not avert his eyes as you do so. Once you made sure to chew enough times, you finally swallow. A satisfied smile decorated his face as his thumb caressed your cheek, hand still cupping your jaw.

"Good girl."

You think you see stars. Park Seonghwa has an impact nobody ever had on you. And lots of them tried. Park Seonghwa didn't even need to try. He just - existed.

The man lets go of your face, then silently makes his way towards his room. At least you assume it is his room. He walked away so calmly, almost making you think you imagined what had just happened. Your face suddenly feels empty and cold without his touch. He had you in a chokehold with a simple touch and a smile.

You almost forget about your best friend waiting in her room. You hope your blushing won't betray you. After all, she must be tired of people wanting to fuck her dad.

Your conversations and jokes don't stop until after midnight. By now, you've had a stand-up show, a few episodes of your favorite TV show, a few funny clips of your favorite artists, and a fashion show. You are exhausted, almost ready for bed. Almost. You still need to get the frustration out somehow. The younger girl is more than ready for bed. The moment her head touched the pillow, she was out of this world. You laugh at her smeared makeup, then reach for the box of wet wipes. You gently clean her face, then try to do her usual routine. You don't remember it, but you try your best.

You make your way to her tall mirror, ready to clean your face too. If your best friend didn't study and work with fashion, she would surely be a makeup artist. It's a pity that you have to wipe down the art she created. Your hands fall down, and your eyes skim over your outfit and hair. She made you wear the brand new lingerie she got for her birthday as a joke. It was funny when they were in her hands, but you'll never forget the gasp that came out of her when you stepped out of the big wardrobe.

"Wanna scissor?"

You'd be up to try it, just not with her. Not while you have her dad on your mind. Perhaps- perhaps you could suddenly get thirsty and go to the kitchen dressed like that? The lingerie was now hidden under a short silver silk dress she wore for her ex boyfriend's birthday party. It looked plain and stupid, but the young girl had the power to turn it into something jaw dropping. Paired with silver heels and dazzling makeup, you looked ready for, well, someone to destroy it.

You open the door, then slowly step in the hallway. The girl explained that Mr Park's room is at the end of the hallway, but you cannot just walk in and expect something to happen. Maybe he simply liked teasing. Maybe he never responds to all those calls for pleasure. He is surely aware of what an impact he has on people, and maybe he finds it amusing. You still have a shot to see for yourself.

You drink a glass of water. Then another one. He isn't here. He must be asleep already. He is a hard working man after all. All this didn't come into his life easily. God, good looking and hard-working? He must be the whole package. Who in their right mind would leave a man like this? Perhaps she couldn't keep up with his sex drive. You hope.

You set the glass aside, and examine the kitchen again. Many drinks decorated the shelves, along with luxurious looking glasses and other glass decorations. You could only dream of having a home like this. You could probably afford a single spoon from the bottom drawer. You just couldn't wait to meet your soul mate and force your brilliant ideas on them. After all, you have a gift for that. Decorating, I mean. Not the forcing part.

You feel less sleepy now that you've drank so much water. You wander around the living room for a while, hoping he would come down at any moment. Yet it still doesn't happen. Your feet carry you to the door near the staircase. You slowly open it, then look around. With your luck, he will come down now that you are snooping around his home. He better stay asleep now.

You step inside, debating whether to turn on the lights. Fuck it, you think. Your hand finds the light switch on the cold wall. You squint at the sudden brightness. It takes a while for your eyes to get used to it, but when they do, all you can do is gasp.

The walls were covered with antique bookshelves, each filled with books from top to bottom. They were divided in sections, and they had the most beautiful covers and spines you've ever seen. You step inside, closing the door behind. The room was endless rows of fantasy, sci-fi, romance, poetry, educational books, and-

Erotica.

Fuck, lots of erotica. A whole wall, maybe even two, dedicated to the sinful delight. You didn't even need to check if you're right. You'd recognise some of those spines even in darkness. A single desk is placed in the middle of the room, along with a comfortable looking chair. Pens and notebooks are neatly placed in the top corner, and a book rests at the edge. A suit jacket, most probably Mr Park's, is placed over the backrest. The room was organised, clean, and smelled like sandalwood mixed with jasmine. It was pleasant enough to just stand there. Yet the curiosity got the best (or worst) of you, as it always did.

The smell of books takes over your senses. You feel the worn out spines and edges under your fingertips. He has them all: from the very first romance novels with the very first sex scenes to steamy books who had sex written all over them. You weren't sure which ones you liked more. You only knew that you'd settle for anything just to get a little taste.

Your gaze falls on the book which laid on the desk. His most recent read, perhaps? It still had a bookmark, you notice. You sit on the chair, and almost sink into it from the softness. You close your eyes, inhaling all the scents you can. You sense a hint of bourbon. Even his scent makes your lower stomach burn with unreleased sensation.

You take the book into your hands, then turn it over. The summary made your curiosity even worse, and you could forget about sleep for at least two more hours. You lean back, put your feet on the desk, and happily start with the book. It has a plot, of course, but currently? You couldn't give a single fuck about it. But you aren't one to skip pages just to get to a certain point in the story. So you force yourself to read through the little boring descriptions. In the corner of your eye, you spot a box of tissues peeking out of the bottom drawers. You see no other chairs around here. It means that nobody enters the room.

A man and a box of tissues mean only one thing.

You sigh at the picture that forms in your head. You see Mr Park sitting on the chair. He is wearing his suit vest, a book in his hand and legs spread comfortably. His other hand is wrapped around his cock, which you know is thick. Your eyes have dropped down there once or twice. He is lazily stroking himself, his attention still fully on the book. There is just something so fucking hot about watching a man satisfy himself.

You feel your throat go dry. You open your eyes, ready to put the book away and try to go to sleep. Yet the plot has just started to get steamy. You sit back once again, the book in your hand not getting any rest tonight. Your eyes skim over the hot descriptions, each making you more flustered. The thought of Park Seonghwa reading this is driving you crazy.

Nicholas has waited for this moment for months, yet it felt like years to him. He would use every second of it, and he will be the best she ever had.

He worshipped her all night long, explored her body with his tongue, whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and grabbed at anything he could. He devoured her, his wet muscle tirelessly working on her sensitive bud. Her cries of pleasure had him cumming in his own pants, yet he didn't care. He existed for her, and her only.

Was it too much to ask for a simple eating out? You wonder how it feels. You had one, a long time ago. Along with a messy first time. God, the second time might've been ever messier. None of it was enjoyable. You too wanted to be manhandled. You too wanted to be worshipped. You wanted someone to tirelessly eat you out until you cream. And scream.

You groan. Continuing will do you no good, but going to sleep is impossible. You could rub out a quick one and then try to rest. Wouldn't be your first time. You feel yourself dripping through your panties. All these descriptions have your head spinning. You reach for the box of tissues. The last thing you needed was to leave evidence that you snooped around. If you're going to leave one, it better not be an arousal stain on the chair.

You pull the drawer so you can take the box out easier. If your jaw could drop to the floor, it probably would. Deeper in the drawer laid a purple gadget. You knew very well what it was. You were never brave enough to get one for yourself. Your parents liked to snoop a lot, and just now you realise where you got it from. He didn't use it on anyone, did he? Your friend did not mention any women near Mr Park. Besides, it feels good for men too.

You carefully take out the wand. It looks brand new, the see through film still wrapped around the head. It could help you out. You'd be finished even quicker. Nobody will ever know. You cannot afford it anymore anyway, so wasting an opportunity like this seems like a shame to you.

You put each leg over the armrests, then lay back comfortably. You press a button. The buzzing sound has your stomach filled with excitement. You resume the reading, the wand dangerously close to your crotch. You didn't remove the film, nor will you remove the panties. If someone barges in, you can throw it in the drawer and act stupid.

You bring the buzzing device closer, and closer, until it finally touches your burning clit. A gasp leaves your lips, the first vibrations giving you the satisfaction you needed. You try to focus on the words, yet the toy feels so good against you that you choose to drop the book and enjoy. You throw your head back, sighs and hums leaving your mouth as you work the toy on your clit. Your mind is clouded with thoughts of a single man. He is so close, yet so far. The scent from his vest is helping you get a clearer picture. He is skillfully working his fingers on you, filling you up just right and licking your juices off his hand so sinfully.

You groan. The vibrations are strong against you, and you don't think you can take it. You are not used to it. Fingers will have to do. You blindly search for the button. When you fail to find it, you open your eyes.

"Fuck-"

The rest of the words come out muffled. A hand is placed over your lips, and another one is covering yours on the wand. You shamelessly stare into the eyes of the man you want to fuck so bad. Judging by his gaze, you think he shares the idea. Without a single word, he presses the toy back into your clit. You sigh into his hand, head falling back and your back arching. You try to close your eyes, but a slap to your inner thigh makes you jump.

"Look at me."

You do as you are told. He does not avert his gaze, not even when you beg him to stop. You are feeling overstimulated, even though you did not orgasm.

"Found yourself a book to read?" He asks, eyes falling on it.

You nod. Now you know why the scent was stronger in the room. How long was he there?

"Come here."

He removes his hand from your face. You are taken aback by his demands. It is turning you on even more. With a single swipe, he drops all the pens and notebooks from the desk on the floor.

"You like wearing cute little dresses and parading around the house?"

"I wasn't-"

"I didn't say I didn't enjoy it." He licks his lips. His hands cup your waist, and you feel your body rise up. He places you on the desk, then rests his hands on your knees. In the most erotic way ever, he looks deep into your eyes, then gently spreads your legs. You want to melt into his arms right there. Mr Park steps between your thighs, hands resting on your cheeks.

"You look so innocent. So pretty for me to ruin."

You say nothing. Instead, you get closer to him. You wish to feel his lips. You wish to feel his tongue in many places.

"But you are far from innocent, aren't you? Probably the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Sir-"

"I don't fuck my daughter's friends, you know."

He places a hand on your chest, gently pushing you to lay down on the desk. He climbs on it with one knee, hand still caressing your cheek.

"Didn't promise anything about best friends though."

His lips hover above yours for a while. He is making it painful for you. He is making you beg. And you are ready to go down on your knees for him.

"I want to fucking ruin you, doll. I want to do all the things you've read about." He whispers into your mouth. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, accidentally touching yours too. "I want to pound into you as you read your favorite book and struggle to focus. I want to tear you apart right on this desk."

You moan at his words. You swear you could cum from his dirty talk only.

"Will you let me get a taste of you?"

You nod eagerly. He chuckles, then presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. He is looking into your eyes in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together so you can get some friction.

"I need to hear you, love."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I'll let you get a taste of me," you repeat. It didn't sound as hot as when he said it. It didn't matter anyway.

Time passed so slow. You had an orgasm to chase, yet Park Seonghwa wouldn't move a single finger.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Will you let me stuff you with my cock like a good girl?"

"Y-yes, Sir," you breathe out. The formality is only adding up to the mood. First names are outdone anyway.

"And will you do as I say?"

"Yes," you nod, "yes I will. Anything."

"Anything?" He asks, his eyebrow raised.

"Anything, Sir."

Just when you think he is going to press his lips against yours, he reaches for something behind you. He holds the book in front of you, signaling you to take it.

"Read for me."

Read? It's erotica, not a bedtime story. Yet how can you say no when he asked you so nicely. You clear your throat, then continue where you left off.

"Nicholas held her thighs down to keep her from squirming. His tongue lapped at her clit without stopping. She begged, and begged for - oh!"

The buzzing device is spreading sensation on your clit. You look over the book, and find Mr Park focusing on the space between your legs. He is lazily dragging the wand across your crotch, occasionally pressing into the sensitive bud.

"Keep going," he ordered.

"S-she begged, and begged for more. She had cummed twice on his tongue already. Yet he didn't have enough. He wanted to watch her shake in his arms, beg ‐ ah, ‐ beg for him to stop. Nicholas then inserts his fingers into her, the tips searching for the sweet spot which - f‐fuck - had her groaning with pleasure."

The speed is increased, and your thighs are shaking. You think you're close already.

"I don't think I can handle it much longer." You say.

"I didn't ask."

With that, he increases the speed, this time dragging the toy more forcefully on your crotch. You could spill over the edge at any moment. You want to orgasm with his fingers, not a stupid toy.

"The books isn't going to read itself."

"She held onto his hair for dear life. The pressure was building up at the bottom, and- ah, fuck ‐ and, and-"

"And?"

"I'm going to cum," you cry out.

"I don't remember that being in that scene yet."

"Please-"

"Read."

Your eyes fall back on the words. You just want to lay down and enjoy. Why does he enjoy teasing so much? It's not as fun as it looks or sounds.

"‐and she could feel herself cumming all over his face once again."

You lower the book, just enough so you can look at him. He is focused on his movements. His long, slender fingers are gently pressing your thigh against the wooden surface, while his other hand is working the toy on you. The vibrations change speed and strength, and that's what's keeping you from finishing right in front of him. His tongue wets his lips again, and his lips stay open. He lets out shallow breaths as he watches you clench around nothing.

"Look at you, shamelessly dripping on my work desk." He says, his voice low and raspy. He looks into your eyes, right before he lifts the toy.

He does not break eye contact with you. He climbs on the desk again, spreading your legs with his own and resting his hand on your exposed lower stomach. His hand is hot against your skin. You are ready to give yourself to him in any way.

"You like the book so far?"

"Yes, Sir."

He drags his hand up your stomach, lifting your dress along the way. He takes his sweet time, doing nothing but giving you goosebumps and making your breathing harder. The dress is now scrunched above your breasts, your friend's brand new lingerie completely exposed to his big pupils. It was an ugly colour, but somehow, Mr Park seemed astonished by the view.

"Ah, fuck."

You feel your bra being yanked down, and right after that a warm wet muscle circling over your tense nipples. A gasp leaves your mouth. Then another, and another, with each lick he generously gives you. He squeezes your breasts, massages them, works his tongue on them like it's the most delicious meal in the world. You swear you could orgasm just from this.

Mr Park allows himself to get a bit vocal. He hums around your nipples, gently sucking at them and squeezing the soft flesh around them. He enjoys your squirming under him. He enjoys your moans and gasps. He enjoys your fingers pulling his hair. Most of all, he enjoys how you lift your thighs up and try to meet his crotch, in hopes of getting more relief down there.

He lifts his head from your sensitive breasts, and gets closer to your face. His breathing is heavy against your mouth, and you can almost feel his heart thumping against your chest.

"Tell me, what is your favorite scene from the book?"

"What?" You ask, confused as to why he is insisting on reading and talking about the book.

"You heard me," he speaks into your mouth. He is so close, yet he doesn't dare touch your lips. It's making you extremely frustrating. You wanted to taste the lips that spoke sinful words. You want all of him.

"Well, I kinda liked the first time he fingered her."

"Did you now?" He acts interested. His eyebrow is raised with amusement because of your utter confusion.

"Yeah, I mean, it was hot as fuck. Him fingering her right there in the corner of the club? I swear I'd — oh."

His finger dips inside of you with ease. Your walls swallow it, clench around it, and feel warm against it. Mr Park is lets out a groan. Still, he continues, still looking into your eyes. "What exactly did he do?"

"He made out with her. And fingered her."

"That's all?"

His finger is not moving. It sits there comfortably, enjoying the warmth of your pussy. He licks his lips for the third time that night. He is fighting every urge inside him to just slam his cock into you and ruin you on the table. He wants to enjoy everything you want to give him.

"H-he—" your eyes roll back as he gently presses his finger upwards, "he uses one finger first, to get her used to it. He fingers her slow, and- and‐"

The man slowly pulls out, then equally slowly goes back in. He repeats the motion, and each time it seems slower to you. It is more intense, but you don't think you have the patience.

"He inserts another finger, to stretch her out. He speeds up a bit, and asks her- ah, fuck, asks her if it feels good."

Mr Park leans into your ear. "Does it feel good?"

"Oh, fuck yes."

You feel another finger stretching you our, then another. He watches as his fingers disappear between your tight walls, preparing you so well for him. He speeds up his pace. The sounds of his palm slamming against your pelvis along with your cunt making wet noises is making you arch your back from the table. You shamelessly moan into his mouth, hands grabbing at his shoulders, hair, face, anything.

You are pulled away from the world of ecstasy. You find yourself sitting up straight, your wrists caught in his hand. You are ready to whine about being so close, yet he stops you by pulling you off the desk. The dress falls down your body, covering it once again. The man pulls you off the table, and in a split second, he has you slammed against the bookshelves. You are ready to complain, but he stops you by slamming his palms against the shelves near your head. He looks at you, as if asking if you still want it. You respond by getting closer to him, testing the waters. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he captures your lips with his, hungrily sucking on them and biting them. His tongue is gentle against yours, giving it light strokes and circles. Your fingers find themselves tangled into his hair, then down his neck, shoulders, until they finally rest on his chest. He stops your hands from unbuttoning his snow white shirt. He pulls away too quickly for your liking.

You stare with surprise as he drops down on his knees. Fuck, you love the way he looks at you from down there. His fingers graze the skin of your thighs, then gently lift up the dress.

"Hold that for me." He orders in a whisper. You quickly obey, grabbing the material and holding it above your lower stomach. "Then what happened?"

"The guy took her outside, behind the club. He made her stand against the wall, much like me now. And then—"

You now realise what he is doing. He is recreating the scenes you have just read. He is fulfilling your fantasy. He is doing just what you always wanted, and he doesn't even know it. A sudden boost of confidence enters your body. You could drop a few lines that weren't in the book. He wouldn't notice now, would je?

"He ate her out."

"Did he?" He asks, voice dripping with horny thoughts said out loud. "And just how did he do that?"

"He licked every inch of her skin, explored every curve and bump, and sucked on a specific spot."

The man smirks, then pokes his tongue out. You finally get a chance to see exactly how long it is. He licks a warm stripe over your folds and clit. Your knees are wobbly, and you wish you could've stayed sat down. His hands are gripping you thighs, buttocks, and the back of your knees. He is fully focused into absolutely ravishing you.

He mercilessly licks your clit, each swipe making you more sensitive. He works it up and down, then in circles, then flattens the wet muscle so that he can take in all of you. He makes lewd noises, almost slurping at your arousal and folds.

"So heavenly," he groans. He hums as he speeds up his tongue against your clit.

Short moans leave your mouth, and you find yourself gripping your nipples over the shiny fabric. You pull and squeeze his hair between your finger, and you think you'll choke him with your thighs. He doesn't complain once.

"I'm close—" you whimper, white dots already appearing in front of your eyes.

It was as if you said "stop". He stands up, hand resting on your jaw. He lifts your head to look at him. His lips are glistening with your arousal, and you think it's the hottest thing ever. He dips his thumb and index finger into your cheeks, making you hollow them and open your mouth. He leans in, and just when you think he is about to kiss you, two fingers find themselves resting on your tongue. He proceeds to push them back, right at the end of your tongue. You tear up, but don't gag. He is very distracting with his stare.

You close your lips around his fingers, tongue circling around them and wetting them. He takes them out, puts them in his own mouth. He steps back for a bit, and you carefully follow his every movement. He rips the fabric of his shirt, and buttons drop down on the floor. The sight has you dripping down your legs. You don't get a chance to say much, he pushes you against the desk, this time with you facing the surface. You feel the wet digits spread your folds. You then feel a wet trail rolling down your pussy.

Did he—? Did he spit directly on your pussy?

You hear the belt unbuckling, then fabric shuffling. Something hot touches your other cheeks, gently caressing them and leaving a trail of precum. His hand reaches near you, taking the book and opening it where you marked it. It then cups your neck, gently pressing the sides of it just enough to make you dizzy.

"Read for me, doll."

"But-"

He leans down, feeling a bit annoyed at all your protests. "Read for me so I can stuff you with my cock in peace."

You have no other choice but to continue. You feel him circling your folds, but not touching you where you need it.

"Nicholas couldn't believe how long it had been since he last felt her. He pounded into her like there was no tomorrow. His hips forcefully connected with hers— ah!"

You feel him stretch you out. The sweet burning sensation is back, this time actually pleasant. He fills you to the end, hands tightly holding onto your waist and neck. He pulls out, just to slam back into you, much like Nicholas.

"He watched her tits bounce with every hip thrust he m-made, a sight for sore eyes. He fondled her nipples, listened to her moans and watched her face twist wit-th pleasure—"

His hands move your body towards him, making him reach spots that have you gripping the edge of the desk.

"Please let me enjoy this, Mr Park. Oh please, let me."

He pulls your hair, making your back arch and your head fall back. He looks at you from above, hips still working their pace.

"You're saying you're not", thrust, "enjoying this?"

"No, I just—"

"I spoiled you," thrust, "in such a," thrust, "short," thrust, "time."

He proceeds to thrust a few times faster, then slows down. He fucks you nice and gentle, occasionally letting out a grunt or a hiss. He goes deep, making you roll your eyes.

"Look at me," he pulls your hair more.

You whimper, the pleasant pain spreading over your body.

"Look at your pretty makeup running down your cheeks."

He wasn't lying when he said he is going to ruin you. He turns your body over with ease, and you wonder just how strong this man is. Mr Park lifts your legs on his shoulders, the position giving him more access to all the sweet spots. He slams into them with no mercy, abuses every weak spot you have, and fills your mouth with his fingers to keep you quiet. They don't help much, since you are equally loud even when he tries to make you gag.

"Want me to fill you up like a stuffed toy?"

"Please," you manage to beg.

Your eyes roll back from pleasure, and you are feeling like you're floating. You are so close, and if he cums inside you, you will cum right then. Mr Park is now moaning. His hands are gripping your waist, slamming your weaker body into his hips. Sweat is decorating his exposed body, and his hair is sticking up everywhere. Watching him focus on chasing his high is something you'll always remember with love. He is progressively getting sloppier and louder, and you just can't wait to see him cum.

You are squeezing and milking him so well, he could go all night long with you. He lets out a prolonged moan as he spills into you, hips still working in and out. You follow after, the feeling of warm seed touching the right places.

"Fuck—" you moan, moving your hips and riding out your high.

The man drops on top of you, cock still deep inside.

You notice the windows are foggy, and the smell of sex is more than present in the room. You don't want to move. You want more. It just isn't enough.

"Ah fuck, I could go for a second round." He admits.

"I can handle it."

"But I can't so please go to sleep or go fuck outside."

Shit.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez smut #kpop smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #Seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x female reader #ateez scenario

3K notes · View notes

amuromi · 7 months

Text

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 4.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! baby fever!gojo, breeding kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names (mama, baby), pull out method, oral (f!receiving), talks of having kids and starting a family, ooc!gojo(?)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ Gojo seems like he’d be so good with kids! He’s all but adopted Yuuji and actually adopted Megumi. That man would be a great dad.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

Gojo loves coming home to his apartment smelling like you. His penthouse always has a certain smell to it. Cleaning chemicals courtesy of his maid that dusts away the cobwebs while he’s out of town, and the deep floral scent of his cologne that you love so much. But underneath the artificial smell of wood polish and his signature expensive fragrance is something innately you.

He can smell your perfume and hear your voice before he’s even kicked off his shoes in the entryway, mumbling through the lyrics of some song as the apartment warms with the smell of your cooking. Gojo has isn’t much of a chef by choice, prefering to eat out or order in, and he’s never really bothered to buy proper groceries. His cabinets are filled with cereals and chips and his fridge is a rotating stock of sugary drinks and sometimes fruits if he remembers to pretend to care about a more balanced diet. Really he has people that buy food for him. His maid or someone else–he never really noticed their salaries leaving his bank account so it really doesn’t matter. They try to leave him with something proper to eat. Meat and vegetables, food that’s actually healthy. Usually he ends up tossing it as the meat spoils and the vegetables rot but you’ve decided to help yourself to whatever he has left, standing over the stove armed with a pair of tongs.

He wonders how long you’ve been here. He guesses a while since you’ve had time to make yourself comfortable and start cooking. He recognizes the shirt hanging down to your thighs as one of his, plain white and slightly worn–just the type of thing you’d like to steal from him because you like just how good he smells. It’s cute. You’re cute as you swing your hips to the song playing in your earbuds, tending to your cooking without a care in the world. He leans against the island that smells sharp and citrusy and smiles at your thoroughness. Already cleaned the counter to avoid those pesky uncooked chicken germs. You pick up each marinated piece with a gloved hand, fishing the cooked chunks out of the pan to be set aside.

It’s heart wrenchingly domestic the way you’re always so diligent in the kitchen, attention divided between so many tasks at once. Your gloved hand mixes the bowl of uncooked chicken bits, trying to spread the seasoning on every piece because you hate eating bland food, while your other hand flips the pieces sizzling in the pan. It makes Gojo want to see you occupied even further. It’s mean to want it for you when you always whine about not yet, Satoru whenever he tries to bring up the topic of kids. But, fuck he wants to come home to you just like this with a baby on your hip and another, only a year or two older, hanging onto your leg as your pregnant belly bumps against the edge of the stove. His dick jumps, thickening with excitement at the idea of you having his babies, making you a mama. You deserve it and he knows you want it, too. No matter how much you whine and squirm when he says he’s going to cum inside you.

Breathy whimpers of, Satoru, no! as you try to sound stern even when you’re bouncing on his cock, greedy pussy sucking him in as he pulls out to fill you with another deep thrust. You get to cream on his dick whenever you want, pussy frothing white rings around his base as he folds you up and fucks you good but he can’t even cum inside, not even once. He could be mean and make you take it, keep bullying your insides even after you cum until you’re crying on his cock and leaking his cum so he can laugh at the tears sparkling in your eyes.

He watches your ass bounce as you dance, oblivious to his arrival. You’ve got those little black shorts on. The kind that cling tight to your curves and he groans, eyes rolling back behind his tinted glasses. You’re torturing him on purpose, you have to be. There’s no other reason for you to look so fucking perfect right now. You reach over to pick up a piece of lettuce, chewing on the edge of the leaf as you finally catch sight of him in your periphery. He watches you startle, lettuce leaf hanging from your mouth as your eyes widen. Like a goddamn bunny caught in the sights of a wolf. Soft cheeks and bright eyes as you smile and shove the rest of the lettuce into your mouth.

“Satoru!” You beam at him like you’ve never been happier to see anyone in your life and it makes him melt, folding over the counter to groan his desperation into the cold granite. Fuck! He can imagine what your babies will look like. They’ll be chubby ’cause mama will feed them so well. Fat cheeks and pudgy little arms that’ll cling tight to you whenever you hold them. He wants to see your nose, your lips, your everything in their faces. He couldn’t care less about passing on any of his genetics when he just wants to make more little yous that reach for him when he comes home, little hands opening and closing in his direction while you smile and welcome him home just like you are now.

“I’m making chicken.” You say, half facing him so you can tend to your cooking and look at him at the same time.

“Uh huh,” he says dumbly because he’s not really listening. As sweet as it is hearing you tell him about your day he’s just focused on the shape of your lips and the way your nipples poke through the thin fabric of your–his!–shirt. He wants to get his mouth on them. Shove the shirt up under your arms so he can fill his mouth with your tits. He wants to see you squirming as you rub your thighs together, panties soaked as he tugs at your nipples. He wants to tease you with coy quips of “feels good, mama?” as he pries your legs apart so he can rub at your little clit and make you cum with his fingers in your pussy. You’ll be so good for him. Shaking and nodding, trying to muffle your voice behind your hand as you pretend you don’t like when he plays so messily with your chest, slobbering over the soft skin as his tongue flicks over the sensitive little peaks of your nipples. You like it. You love it. Always complaining but cumming the hardest when he’s messy with you. He’ll eat you out after you cum, fingers on your sore clit getting replaced with his lips as he sucks the sensitive nub into his mouth, teeth grazing softly, just enough to make you yelp and tug at his hair as he swallows down your slick.

Gojo’s hard on is nearly painful in his sweatpants but you can’t tell as you remain on the other side of the island, oblivious to the way he’s palming at himself as you complain about one of your coworkers. Something about fucking up inventory and stealing commissions.

“You can quit, mama. I’ll take care of you.” His voice is light with amusement but he’s dead serious. He knows you like working, like having something to do with your time. You have friends and a life, an apartment of your own that he absolutely loathes. Why can’t you just live here with him when he so clearly wants to spend all his time spoiling you. Spoiling the pretty little babies you’ll make with him.

“I like my job, Satoru.” You remind him as you turn off the burner and carry the food over to the island. He hopes you’ll come sit down next to him and catch him touching himself. His cock is drooling in his pants at the mere sight of you. Instead you decide to stand across from him, filling lettuce leaves with rice and chicken and pickled vegetables before shoving the huge bite in your mouth. Your cheeks fatten and he leans forward to poke them, cooing over how cute you are.

Cute mamas make cute babies and he knows yours will be tooth-rottingly adorable if you just. Let. Him.

“I can give you a new job.” He promises. “Being a mommy is a full-time job. I can make you a mama and you won’t have to worry about anybody bothering you. Promise.” He’s desperate. This isn’t the first time he’s asked and it’ll be far from the last. He won’t stop until you’re saying yes and he’s bending you over and filling you up how you deserve. You laugh, far past being annoyed that he’s so insistent. He imagines it’s hard for you not to find his desperation funny when Gojo Satoru has never wanted for anything in his life. Nothing but you, and now your babies. He wants them. He’ll wait for them.

“In a little bit, Satoru. We’ve got time, we don’t have to rush it.” But he wants to rush it. And is it really rushing if he’s been thinking about it for months. Sure, you’re young but he wants babies. Plural! He wants to have at least three of them. Maybe four or five if you’ll let him. As many as he can breed you for. He’ll fill you up until you start begging for him to pull out again every time he fucks you and then he’ll go back to pouting as his babies get older with no new additions to the family. He wants a litter, a ridiculous amount. The kind of family that needs a minivan and maybe a nanny to help manage all your little babies. He has the money, you know he does. He can afford it but you’re just so mean and patient about it. Gojo can be patient but he really doesn’t want to be when it comes to you.

He can never wait to get home to see you, can’t wait to get you in bed, can’t wait for your future together. He wants it now, now, now! but he lets you say no. Of course he does. He knows it’ll be a yes someday when you decide you’ve tortured him enough. You’ve already said you want lots of kids or else why would he even consider the thought. You’re so mean to him. Planting that thought in his head and letting it grow like a weed so now he’s always thinking about baby names and maybe buying a house with a big yard and a dog for the kids to play with.

Fuck, you drive him insane. Smiling sweetly like it isn’t your fault he’s already thinking about nursery colors and the safest model of car. He’s a bit lax with looking after himself but he’ll make damn sure to take no chances taking care of his family. He eats the food you made, legs spread to relieve some of the tension as he watches you pack the rest of the food up and put labels on each container. It makes him think about packing lunches for school and he pushes away his half eaten plate to drag you to bed.

He kisses you when you complain that he hasn’t finished his food, that he must be hungry ’cause he just got home and it makes his cock hard all over again. It went soft as he was listening to you tell a story about a rude customer while he mused about family safe pets and what to name them. That wholesomeness is gone in an instant as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, swallowing your protests as spit starts to leak from the corners of your mouth. Because how can you still be so cutely attentive when he’s been giving you pointed looks over the edge of his glasses, tongue poking into his cheek in the way he does only when he’s thinking about stripping you out of your clothes. You’re babbling about price matching and expired coupons while he’s trying his best to remind himself that he can’t knock you up and give you a new little person to take care of the moment he gets you on his dick. But fuck does he want to.

And you’re not making it any easier for him. Pawing at his shoulders and asking what’s got him so worked up like you don’t just need to exist in his proximity for his mind to start melting into thoughts of giving you his cock just the way you like. The bed is made and he knows he hadn’t done it before he left and his maid wasn’t scheduled to come through until next Wednesday. So fucking perfect. Tidying the house and making food so he’d have something nice to come home to but he’s not supposed to reward you with his cum spilling out of your little pussy? Yeah, okay.

“Need you.” He mumbles as he pushes you down on the freshly fluffed pillows. “Need you so fucking bad, mama. You’ll let me, yeah? I can have you, right, baby?” You nod, murmuring, “I’m all yours, Satoru” as he pulls your shirt over your head and shoves those tight little shorts down your thighs. You’re not wearing panties and he nearly creams in his pants at the way your puffy little pussy is already shiny with arousal. Just some kisses and sweet words and you’re already dripping for him. Gojo groans, feeling grateful to have you because who else could be this perfect for him. He tosses his glasses aside to look at you properly. All wet lips and eager smiles as you wait for him to take care of you in the way only he can. He’s sure you’re gonna kill him someday.

He gets his mouth on your tits just like he wanted, groaning at the taste of your skin as he sucks on the pert little bud. Your breath hitches and the little sound would’ve sent him to his knees if he wasn’t laid out on top of you like a weighted blanket, leg slung over your squirming thighs as he makes a mess of your tits. Licking and sucking each one until they’re both wet with his spit and you’re shaking on the edge of an orgasm. He lets you have it, looking down to watch the way your thighs tremble pitifully as your pussy clenches around nothing. It’s fucking hot and he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to squeeze at his cock, flushed a deep angry red from how long he’s been neglecting it.

Gojo groans against the plushness of your breast, breathy little pants puffing over your abandoned nipples as he jerks off like he’s never seen tits before. He cums fast, spilling over your tummy in short streaks. It’s pitiful but it takes the edge off enough for him to treat you the way you deserve. His shirt is tossed aside as he mouths at your tummy, licking up the mess he made so he can share his taste with you. He’s already half hard again as you suck on his tongue. He spits in your mouth just to hear you yelp and wiggle like you don’t get stars in your eyes when he treats you dirty. Your thighs are clenched tight, knees knocking as you try to find some relief in the meager friction. Gojo bullies your legs apart as he leaves hot, wet kisses down your body. Prints of his lips shining down your sternum and over the softness of your tummy. He takes extra time to love on it, nuzzling against you because that’s where his babies are gonna go.

He can’t wait for it. The bump of your belly and swelling of your tits. He knows you’re gonna complain–rightfully so!–about your sore back and swollen ankles and he’ll be there to coo and cajole you into being nicer to yourself as your body changes to accommodate the new life you’re growing for him. He grinds against the bed as he noses his way between your legs. Your thighs snap closed around his head as he tongues you from fluttering hole to twitching clit and he moans. All he can smell, feel, hear is you as your hips buck up into his greedy mouth.

Gojo throws an arm over your hips and you fall still immediately under his strength but he can still feel the little aborted shifts of your weight that make him laugh against your cunt. He thumbs back the hood of your clit and he makes a show of sucking hard on the little nub, watching your eyes flutter and back arch as you gush around his fingers. He doesn’t stop even as you cream on his tongue, slicking up his face with your cum. He pulls away with a lewd pop! and smacks his lips ’cause he knows how much you hate when he does that.

His smile is shiny and cruel as his fingers hook against your gummy walls, still pulsing as he drags the pads of his fingertips over that sweet spot. Your lips part but you have no breath in your lungs to make any noise and Gojo wants to spit on your tongue again, let you taste how good you were for him. He winds your body tight, not giving you a break until you’re whimpering and trying to push his hand away, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It’s okay, mama, I got you.” He doesn’t leave you empty for even a minute, rubbing the wet head of his cock over your clit before pushing inside you with a hiss.

“Gotta let me in, baby.” He coos when you clench too tight for him to push further. It feels so good the way you’re gripping his cock but he wants to be deeper. He’s only halfway inside and he knows you can take more. You can take all of him. His thumb finds your clit even though he knows it probably hurts by now, flushed and sore as he traces smooth circles over the swollen bud.

“Satoru, s’too much!” You hiccup, trying to pry his hand away even when he’s being so purposefully gentle.

“I’m being good.” He pants. “Treating her real nice. Just gotta let me in, mama. Let me in so I can fill you up how you want.” He’s lost in his daydream, imagining finally filling you up, making you take him and grow him a little baby. His free hand pets over your belly as he tries to get deeper with each shallow thrust. And when he pops past that last bit of resistance, Gojo fucking collapses. He buries his face in your neck and goes still. It feels like he’s fucking melting with all the wet heat milking his cock and it doesn’t help that he can feel your pulse fluttering against his panting mouth, and feel your hips trying to buck against him.

“Please, please,” you pants helplessly. “Love you, please!”

“Mm, love you, too, baby. Gotta gimme a minute,” he laughs, pretending he didn’t almost break his promise and paint your insides white the second you let him all the way inside. You’re the one that wants him to be careful but you’re mewling and moving like you wouldn’t mind if he came right now, pressed right up against your cervix. He bites a bruise into your shoulder to distract himself before pulling his hips back to bully his way back inside with a deep stroke.

He’s mean about it because he’s pouting. He can’t have what he wants even though it’s so close. He won’t push his luck but he can still be upset about it as he fucks you into the bed. His tongue licks up beads of sweat as they drip down the hollows of your throat, teeth worrying bruises over your shoulder because he knows you don’t like when he leaves too many marks on your neck. He’s so nice and attentive and has you absolutely wailing, nails digging into his back as your legs lock around his waist, but he still can’t have what he wants.

“Please, mama?” He tries one last time as he feels you starting to pulse around him. Your eyes meet and he swipes a messy kiss that’s more spit and tongue than a proper kiss over your mouth before he lets you answer. It’s the same “later, Satoru!” he always gets, yet he still can’t help but be a little disappointed as his balls tighten at the feeling of you cumming on his cock with a wail. There’s a sticky sound as he pulls back, webs of wetness strung between the two of you where you’ve turned his cock white with your drooling pussy. He almost whines at the sight, pressing back inside even as you shiver because he’s so close and this warmth will only last a few moments longer. He gives you long, hard strokes that drag out the last edge of your orgasm.

“So mean.” You pout even though your legs don’t want to let him go as he pulls out. He leaves just the head inside you, stroking his soaked shaft with quick strokes. It’s a dangerous game to be playing but he thinks he’s earned it by being so patient with you. He pulls out at the absolute last second, jerking off onto your stomach because if he can’t put it in there he can at least mark where he wants it to go.

“Right here, baby.” He groans, leaning over you with one hand on your waist while the other squeezes every last drop of cum from his cock. “That’s where I’m gonna put ’em. That’s where all my cute babies are gonna go, right, mama?” He smiles and he knows it’s patronizing but you’re all too happy to indulge him.

“Yeah,” you push your hand in beside his as he thumbs at your stomach. “Yeah, right there. I’ll keep ’em in there for you, baby.”

“Yeah, you will.” You promised. Someday. Not never, just not right now. He’s still impatient but post-nut clarity has sort of straightened his head out as he curls up next to you. He bats your hand away when you try to wipe the mess of his cum off your tummy.

“It’s gross.” You complain just like he knew you would but you don’t try again. His room has lost the scent of cleaning chemicals and cologne as the smell of sex seeps into every crevice. He can smell your sweat and the scent of your cunt and he’s content to go to sleep without changing the soiled sheets. He’s almost there, lulled by the even sound of your breathing but he still gets up to get you water and a washcloth. He hums in sympathy as you squirm while he cleans the mess between your legs, swiping through your sensitive folds with a careful attentiveness. He stares at the dry mess of his cum on your skin for a little while longer before wiping that away too. You sip your water and remind him to go finish eating and he nearly pops a boner again because you really don’t know how to turn off your charm.

“Later. Promise I’ll eat later. Jus’ wanna lay with you right now.” He murmurs and slings his leg back over yours. You’re both naked now and slightly sticky from all the sweat but he clings to you anyway. Your fingers find his hair, nails brushing over his scalp gently as you go back to humming. Gojo can’t tell if you’re doing it on purpose or if you’re singing absently to yourself but he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to watch you sing lullabies to your babies. Yeah, later can’t come soon enough.

#gojo ★#gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #★ mine!

692 notes · View notes

idanceuntilidie · 5 months

Text

I get so hugry when you say you love me.

yandere male x gn reader.

Tw: Yandere behaviours| Mentions of kidnapping| Cannibalism| Slightly suggestive at only one point.

Requests open

It took me longer to write than I thought it would honestly and it’s not even that long. Sorry for that.

Now if you excuse me Im gonna eat a bowl of cereal and yes that is my dinner.

Turns out there is not many things you can do without your limbs.

Your eyes wandered lazily around the bright pink ceiling, you were hungry and bored. You don’t remember how many days Gummy kept you in his house.

No internet, no tv, music was allowed only on CDs or cassettes but you would only be able to listen to it when he was in the room with you. The room itself was, heavily decorated.

Very scene, very cool, you would appreciate it more if you didn’t spend most of your time laying down and being held against your will. Surround by pillows and plushies, on a huge ass bed.

Gummy took care of you. He made sure you were dressed up so nicely. He liked to talk about how when he was younger he had so many dolls and he could dress them up.Then he would look into your eyes and smile, you saw the same crazed look every time, then he would say that you are like a doll now. So pretty and his. It was easy to guess that he would do little fashion shows with you. From dresses to suits. He bought them just for you. Right now you wore very loose clothing that you are sure was his, you could tell by the smile and how… excited he got.

He rarely went out of the house. He fears that somehow you would leave him.

How the fuck would you even do that? Your legs and arms were chopped off. The worst part is that sometimes you still can feel them, sometimes it’s quick, other time you feel the burning sensation which makes you cry out.

So Gummy made sure not to leave the house all that much, when he trusts you more maybe, just maybe he will.

Groceries were kind of hard to get.

Your diet mainly consisted of fruits, vegetables. After some time you might get sick of those. The taste would get bland and well it made you sometimes want to throw up.

Currently you were waiting for the dinner, by waiting you mean you were laying on your back because moving without limbs was actually really hard for you. He promised that today he would prepare something great.

You hoped that maybe today he would give you an actual dinner.

And he did, it looked too good to be true.

“Hi sunshine! Sorry for taking so long I wanted your first proper dinner to be perfect!”

You heard him giggle.

He helped you sit up and you looked over his shoulder to see such a beautiful food behind him. Finally no more fruits. He hummed as he went to bring up the plate.

It smelled so good, you were a bit taken back since you didn’t know he would be able to cook anything else than water.

He began to feed you, it still was in fact so embarrassing every single time.

You chewed slowly, looking away from him. He laughed happily when he saw you enjoyed his cooking. It didn’t take you long to finish, Gummy put the plate away and basically pounced on you. You shrieked when he playfully licked your lips saying how good you taste like.

“I just ate that means you are just tasting your own fucking cooking!”

“Yea I know”

You tried to bite him, it only made him chuckle and grab your face.

“You taste amazing, my point still stands, and your meat was so easy to prepare you would have never guessed.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘my meat’?”

He let go of your face. He smiled eerily while he tapped the nub of your arm.

“The rest is for me, I will have a part of you inside me! Isn’t that romantic?”

Your stomach squeezed painfully, eyes widening. Did he.. Oh God. You felt the vomit it your mouth, Gummy laughed as he pinched your nose and covered your mouth.

“You better swallow and not waste my cooking.”

You didn’t want to, eyes blurring due to lack of oxygen. You didn’t want to, but when your eyes locked with his, hot tears streaming down your face, he just smiled.

#yandere oc gummy #yandere male #yandere male oc #yan oc #yan male #male oc #male yandere #x gn reader #gn reader #oc yandere #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere blog #yandere x gn reader #male yandere x gn darling #male yandere x gn reader #male reader

138 notes · View notes

ckret2 · 1 month

Note

What does bill usually eat and drink? And how often? Does he eat when the rest of the humans do?

First choice:

When there's a meal being served—such as Abuelita cooking dinner or Stan grilling burgers—Bill eats whatever everyone else eats. (Provided he got to see Abuelita cook—to ensure cyanide wasn't an ingredient in his serving.) This accounts for maybe 15% of his meals.

Second choice:

If he happens to be in the kitchen at the same time as someone else, he'll ask them to open the fridge/cabinets to let him get food for himself or, more rarely, ask them to prepare something he isn't allowed to prepare for himself. This means he'll often eat at the same time as them, because swooping into the kitchen while THEY'RE eating means he can get food too.

When he does have full kitchen access, he creates the most disgusting concoctions known to mankind.

Human brains are wired from infancy to find almost all tastes disgusting until they've had them enough to learn to appreciate them (i.e., accept they aren't poisonous)—why kids are generally pickier eaters than adults. The Axolotl trusts that Bill knows enough about human diets to know what is and isn't food—he does—so Bill didn't get given a baby palate. Instead, he's the opposite: he finds almost all tastes okay. Nothing really tastes bad to him.

So his measure for food that "tastes good" isn't QUALITY of taste, but QUANTITY of taste. Bland food is disgusting. The more and stronger flavors a food has, and the more different they are from each other, the more he likes it.

When making his own food he wants maximum flavor for minimum effort. This is why he has a tendency to take as many condiments as he can, no matter how poorly they go together—in fact, ESPECIALLY if they go poorly together—mix them into a slurry, and then drop in enough solid food to cover his body's minimum nutritional needs. (He would do the same thing with spices, but the spices are kept in a cabinet and it's just not worth the trouble to him to specifically ask for access.)

As of chapter 39, he's no longer willing to ask someone else to help prepare something for him, and won't ask Ford to so much as open the fridge for him. Full kitchen access used to account for about 35% of his meals, now it's more like 25%.

Third choice:

If no one's in the kitchen, he won't go looking for someone; he'd rather starve than plea for food from the people who took his food access away. Instead, he'll just eat whatever he can scrounge off the open shelving. That means no food that requires refrigeration, cooking, or microwaving; and no food that's canned, in glass jars, or needs scissors to open. In practice, this means a whole lot of junk food—chips, cookies, candy, jerky, cereal, soda. The most nutritious thing he has regular and easy access to is peanut butter. He has a lot of peanut butter sandwiches. He dislikes peanut butter sandwiches, but he understands nutrition better than most humans and knows chips and jerky can only carry him so far. Scrounging accounts for 60% of his meals.

Beyond all that:

He likes triangle-shaped foods because he is, in fact, that much of an egotistical dork. He will legitimately get angry about nachos with circular or rectangular tortilla chips.

And (with Mabel's encouragement) he's become a fan of dumping sprinkles on as many things as possible. You know how grocery stores sell a bunch of different mixes of sprinkles? Different styles & colors & textures & shapes? Mabel has brought a WIDE variety of sprinkles into the house, and is teaching Bill the fine art of mixing sprinkles artistically for maximum aesthetic value. He likes the fancy-looking gold/silver/white varieties.

He drinks too much—usually, but not exclusively, to get to sleep. This is a bad thing. If called on this, he gets defensive, suggests he needs it like a "medication" to numb the discomfort of fitting a triangular soul in a human body—like taking medicine to prevent a body from rejecting a donor organ—and that the humans wouldn't understand it so they have no room to criticize. This is a VERY bad thing. I'd say he's speedrunning alcoholism, except he's continuing a pattern of substance abuse he had as a triangle, so tbh he was already there.

#anonymous #ask #bill goldilocks cipher

73 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months

Text

With your steady hand

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 3

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: Matt and Foggy go head to head in a prank war, much to your dismay.

warnings: Swearing, fluff, descriptions of homesickness

a/n: Did I mean to make everyone cry in this chapter? No. But here we are. (Honestly, from what I can remember, crying was a popular pastime my first semester of college.) We get a little Foggy vulnerability as a side dish for the Matt and Reader vulnerability. I had a great time with this chapter so I hope everyone enjoys!

w/c: 5.6k

Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you pushed the food around your plate indifferently. Your stomach balked at the idea of eating, but you were aware that you needed to. The only thing you’d eaten in the past 48 hours was dry cereal, and that had to be bad, right?

“You ok?” The quiet, concerned voice of Matt from beside you made you jump. In your groggy haze, you’d completely forgotten he was next to you, and, honestly, that you were out in public at all.

“Yup. Fine. Just not hungry.” Was the bland response you gave. It didn’t appease either of your friends, both of them frowning with worry. You’d been acting…off for over a week now. The cheerful, silly personality that Matt had unwittingly fallen for retreating into a worn out husk of a law student. Though he couldn’t see, Matt would bet dollars to donuts that the bags under your eyes were prominent given how sluggish you’d been recently. Not to mention that you hadn’t spoken up in any class the past few days, which was extremely out of character.

Though Matt was too afraid to admit that he could tell, he knew your blood sugar was extremely low right now. Oddly enough, you weren’t lying when you said you weren’t hungry.

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?” Foggy prompted, seemingly following the same train of thought that Matt was currently on. “You didn’t eat much. Did you catch that flu that’s been going around?”

You shook your head, giving a thin smile. “Nah, just not hungry. I’m ok, guys, promise.”

But neither guy was convinced by your lackluster argument. After studying quietly in their room, and neglecting a plate of takeout, you muttered something about having chores to do and headed home—much to the dismay of your friends.

“Ok, what the hell is up with her?” Foggy scoffed, feigning annoyance despite the obvious worry in his tone.

“I wish I knew.” Matt affirmed, falling backwards on his bed and throwing his arms over his face.

“She said she wasn’t sick. Did something happen?” Foggy questioned.

“She might be stressed, midterms will do crazy things to people.”

“Yah, but when she gets stressed about school she is usually all…ramble-y and stuff. Not like this. It’s like she’s not even here.” The air in the room swished as Foggy gestured wildly, his passionate concern aggravating his already violent hand movements.

“I know, Fog.”

“You should try talking to her. She’s more likely to tell you.” Foggy accused, rolling his eyes.

Matt just snorted in disbelief.

“You laugh, but we both know it’s true. You have a ‘special connection.’” The blond’s voice swayed on the last two words, as if he were a middle schooler pointing out Matt’s crush.

“Bullshit.” Matt snarked.

“You wound me, Murdock. You think the heart eyes you two are always making at each other can escape my powers of observation?” What?

“How on earth does a blind man make ‘heart eyes’ at someone?” Matt chuckled, trying to cover up the way his chest was pounding at the thought of his feelings for you being returned.

“Uh, you tell me, dude! It’s goddamn unbearable. Not only are 90% of the women on this campus ogling you at all times, but you’re too infatuated with our mutual friend to even notice, and you refuse to date her. How am I even supposed to flap my wingman wings?!”

“I told you, Foggy, she deserves better than I can treat her.” Matt groaned at his roommate’s insistence.

“Yah, yah, lie to me all you want, Murdock, I’m taking notes for my best man speech at your wedding.” Foggy shook his finger at Matt who smirked. “Seriously, though. If anyone is going to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with her, it’s you.”

“Hmm, I know she works tonight, I’ll see if she’ll talk to me about it during her shift.” Matt plotted aloud.

“Keep me updated, man. I worry about that little jitterbug. She’s too sweet for this cruel world.” Foggy sighed, running a hand through his long hair.

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right about that.”

Breathing shakily, you ripped the elastic out of your hair and began massaging your temples, to no avail. The pounding ache that had settled over your skull remained, increasing the likelihood that you’d burst into tears from ‘pretty likely’ to ‘it’s a miracle the breakdown hasn’t started yet’. Feeling a lump build in your esophagus, you turned to Jen, who was working at the bookstore with you as you slowly fell apart.

“You ok, babes?” Your roommate prompted, attentive gaze not missing your glassy eyes and choked inhales.

Not trusting your voice, you shook your head, looking at her pleadingly as your lip quivered.

“Aw, love!” Jen pulled you into a hug, siphoning tears from your eyes almost immediately. “What’s wrong? Still missing your mom?”

“Mmm hmm.” You choked out around a sob. Squeezing you tightly, she hummed in understanding.

“Why don’t you go sit in the back for a little bit? I’ll be fine holding down the fort.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, babes. Go watch a movie or something. I’ll yell if I need ya.”

Nodding dolefully, you rubbed at your damp eyes and padded to the closet-sized employee break room in the corner of the bookshop.

Twisting his cane in his sweaty hands, Matt blew out a breath before entering the quiet store. His walk over from campus had been tumultuous despite the short distance. It had quickly occurred to him that cornering you at work might not be the best plan of action, unless alienating you whilst ruining the beautiful trust you currently held for him was the goal.

Against his better judgment, he shoved open the door, trying not to wince as the bell chimed to signal his arrival. Hesitating for a moment, Matt realized it wasn't you at the counter, but your roommate.

“Hi Matt!” Jen greeted him. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too, Jen,” Matt smiled, though the knot of nervousness in his stomach was expanding after hearing your soft cries coming from the break room. “Is, uh, is she working tonight?”

The older girl hummed knowingly, “Yah, she's in the back.” Matt thanked her but she called after him before he could find you. “Just, be gentle with her, ok? She's having a tough week.”

Nodding in understanding, Matt gave what he hoped was a comforting 'I promise not to spook our mutual friend' thumbs up, setting off to keep you company.

Knocking on the open door lightly, Matt heard you sniffle and scrub at your face in an attempt to look put together before responding. “I'll be right out, Jen—”

“Not Jen.” He answered simply. “Just a friend who thought you might want some company.”

Your muffled footsteps wandered towards him, pulling the door ajar when you reached it.

Matt's confidence stumbled, your salty tears and wavering breaths immediately setting him on edge. “Tell me to fuck off and I'll leave. I just thought—” His words were interrupted by a grunt of surprise as you fell solidly against him, arms winding around his waist.

“Hey,” His hands slid up to anchor you, one sprawled over your shoulders while the other stroked your hair to offer succor when you began to tremble with renewed sobs. “Hey, you're alright, I gotcha. I gotcha.”

Wiping your face with one hand, you stood up, removing your arms from around him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over your shirt. Shit, I'm so sorry, Matty.”

“Don't worry about that, sweetheart.” Matt's hand drifted to your clammy cheek, swiping a stray tear away when it fell. “That's why I'm here. You…” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “You seemed like midterms were weighing on you, and I thought you could use some extra support. Let's go sit, yah?” Tenderly taking your hand, he let you guide him to the musty couch, closing the door behind you.

As Matt collapsed into the ancient cushions, he could feel the plumes of dust rising from the impact. Scrunching his nose against the resulting tickle, he eagerly enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your head when you settled against his chest. “Did you want to talk about what's going on? You had Foggy and I quite worried when you ran out on us this afternoon.”

Exhaling shakily, you unconsciously arched into his touch, his hands rubbing slow circles into your lower back. “I don't know, Matty. I...it's a long story, I'm sure you don't want–”

Feeling you tense up beneath him, Matt could practically hear your thoughts as you distanced him from the root of your vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, sweetheart, please. Anything you want to share I will gladly listen to.”

“It’s stupid. You’re going to think I’m a baby.” You murmured, tracing the buttons on his shirt.

“I would never, bubs, you know that. You’re the strongest girl I know, that’s why I’m so worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Matty.”

“Well, tell me what’s up with you and maybe I’ll stop.” He smirked at you and you groaned, though your lips twitched marginally.

You muttered something under your breath and, though he could hear you just fine, he scrunched his brow dramatically. “You’re going to need to speak up, dear, I didn’t catch that.” He cupped a hand around one ear, grinning when you rolled your eyes and shoved him.

“I said…I really miss my mom.” You admitted feebly.

“Aw, sweetheart, that’s not stupid at all!” Matt’s expressive face pinched in sympathy as he waited for you to continue.

“I’ve been talking to her over the phone pretty frequently but it’s not the same. She’s all I had growing up, I’m not used to her not being…here. God, that’s so childish!”

“No, it’s not. I may not be homesick for the orphanage, but I haven’t had the easiest time adjusting either.”

“Really?”

“Yah, bubs, really. There are things about this new freedom that I enjoy, of course, but I do miss the familiarity of my old routine. It’s not childish, I promise.” Running his hands over your arms, he smirked. “You know what is childish?”

“What?”

Bending at the waist, Matt drew his cane from the floor and turned it to display the two plastic circles that had been haphazardly slapped on the black foam handle. Taking the cane from him, you traced a finger over the new decorations and giggled.

“What the fuck?” Disbelief and humor slowly halting your tears, you looked eagerly to Matt for an explanation. Two standard googly eyes, placed at a lopsided angle, wiggled at you as you passed him back the item in question.

“My thoughts exactly.” Matt chuckled. “Foggy bought a bag of googly eyes at the dollar store and has been sticking them to everything in our room. I had to pull a pair off of my glasses before coming over here.”

“You should’ve left them on. Let everyone know what a serious law student you are.” You snickered, snuggling against Matt’s chest again. “Why, exactly, did he choose to do this?”

Matt chuckled, “I think it was his idea of a prank. Pretty minor offense, though. He’s told me horror stories about the things he and his brother used to do.” Shuddering, he bit his lip to keep from purring as you began rubbing his back. “It’s kind of…sweet though? I think it’s his way of showing me I’m like family.”

His throat clenched as he spoke that realization. You smiled, squeezing him tightly. “That is sweet, Matty. I hope you realize how much we care for you.”

“We?” The dark haired boy can barely contain his tease as he gave you the most innocent glance he can muster.

“Shut up, trouble. You know I care about you. Even if I’m not putting googly eyes on all your stuff. To be fair, though, I don’t think I’ve ever pranked anyone.”

“Really?” Chuckling incredulously, Matt was surprised that you’d never played a practical joke, given your adorable goofiness and slight pettiness.

“Not that I can recall. Is that weird?” Your mind was quick to plummet back into anxiety, worrying that Matt would be alarmed by your lack of a normal childhood.

“Of course not, bubs. It just seems like something you’d find funny, is all.”

“Aren’t they…mean?” The hesitation in your voice didn’t surprise him, his heart suddenly swelling with an intense desire to shelter you from anything harmful.

“Sometimes, but not the ones I’m planning.” He assured you.

“What did you have planned?”

“Well…” Matt eagerly divulged his schemes, egged on by your renewed giggles and steady heart. If pranking Foggy would make you happy, he’d gladly involve you in it.

A few days later, you were practically glowing with excitement as you “studied” beside Matt. Echoing footsteps in the hallway outside the door sparked a gasp and you spun towards Matt eagerly.

“Is that him? Is he here?” You nearly squealed.

Chuckling at your darling, albeit very caffeinated, display of giddiness about a terrible prank, Matt shushed you. “That’s not him, sweetheart, but you have to keep your game face on.”

Raising your arm in a mock salute, you jested. “Sir, yes sir.”

Dutifully returning to the book on your lap, you took a few inadequate notes on the chapter before the door unlatched, Matt threw you a grin. “Act natural.”

Foggy traipsed into the room, immediately picking up on the unusual vibes in the air.

“Hey…” Looking between you and Matt skeptically, he dropped his book bag to the floor unceremoniously before crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t know we had a study group meeting today.”

“Oh we don’t, I was just bored so I called Matt to see if the two of you wanted to hang out.” You shrugged nonchalantly, turning a page in your Civil Procedure book.

Matt was absolutely floored when the lie slipped between your sweet lips with sincerity. Given all the energy you’d exhibited before, he’d assumed you’d reveal the prank far too early. Trying not to look at you with the surprise that overtook his mind, he added, “I told her that I was studying for CivPro and invited her over. Is that a problem?”

Foggy narrowed his eyes at the pair of you, clearly not convinced something fishy wasn’t afoot. But his disbelief didn’t save him. Vaulting himself onto his semi-lofted bed, an inglorious noise shattered the tense silence in the room.

As you burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, Matt was forced to continue to prank on his own. “Oh my god, Foggy, we have company.”

Turning beet red, the blond spluttered in response, “That wasn’t—I mean, I…SHUT UP!” Ripping back the covers, Foggy found the culprit instantly and hurled it towards Matt.

With a smug grin, Matt tilted his head towards the scrap of thin rubber. “What is this, Fog?”

“You know damn well what it is, you ass!” Foggy scowled, hopping off his mattress to point at Matt accusingly. “A Whoopie Cushion?? What are we, five??”

Still in stitches, you were leaning against Matt who was holding you up with a single arm. Foggy was unamused. “You know, I expect this childishness from Murdock, but you?” The long-haired law student bit out your last name as if he were a teacher scolding you for distracting the other students. “I expected better of you. Fuck this, I’m leaving.”

That broke you out of your state of humor. Launching yourself off of Matt’s bed, you stumbled towards your sulking friend with less grace than intended. Your over caffeination and extended time sitting had quickly drained the blood from your head. “Foggy, wait—Woah…” You swayed on your feet. Thankfully, Foggy caught you before you could hit the carpeted cement with your entire body weight.

“Christ, jitterbug, you don’t have to pass out on me to keep me here.” He sighed, handing you gratefully back to Matt who pulled you into a seated position at his side once again.

“Sorry,” You apologized sheepishly, “Got light headed. But please don’t leave! Matt was just teaching me how to prank someone.”

“She’d never pranked anyone before.” Matt explained further.

“Never?” Foggy whistled. “Fuck. Guess you’re forgiven then. Murdock, you’re still on my shit list.”

“For a Whoopie cushion? I’m sorry, are you not the roommate who covered a blind man’s stuff in googly eyes?”

“Et tu, brute!” Laying a hand across his chest in mock offense, Foggy’s eyes glimmered as he continued to play up his innocence. “I’ve already told you. That was our mischievous ghost roommate, Steve.”

“Ah, right. Then I guess we can blame him for the Whoopie cushion too.” Matt raised an eyebrow, silently challenging his roommate.

The blond mirrored him, accepting the challenge with an even tone. “I guess we can.”

Looking between the two of them, you felt a lick of apprehension roll up your spine. This was far from the end, that much was clear.

Dashing up the musty staircase, Matt fumbled with his keys. Slamming open the door, he ran his hands along the spines of books beside his bed, snatching the correct one. The book was tossed haphazardly onto the bed as Matt stripped out of his rain-drenched shirt.

Last night had quickly gotten away from him. Originally planning to stay up late and study for his final midterm, he’d parked himself in the library with a thermos of coffee and his American History textbook. Given your tendency to unwittingly distract him, and his roommate’s constant foghorn-like snoring, alone in the library was the most appealing option if he wanted to pass this exam. However, his sex drive was not as devoted to his academic success. A bubbly girl from his history class had greeted him, offering to help him cram for the looming test. He’d gratefully accepted, but they’d only made it through a single chapter before she’d invited him back to her room.

Exhausted from his strenuous activities and the resulting lack of sleep, he’d inevitably overslept. His internal clock was apparently not as effective as the blaring alarm that he normally used. Sprinting home through the deluge of rain, he had mere minutes to change and get to Legal Methods.

So here he was, relinquishing his soaked through button up to the floor as he plucked the first shirt from his dresser. Flinging on the shirt–which had short sleeves for some reason–and his raincoat, he flew out the door and towards his class.

He was barely late, but you still looked at him smugly when he finally plopped down beside you, eliciting a few laughs from other students in the classroom.

“About time you showed up, trouble. How was your night?” You murmured, trying not to draw any more attention to the two of you.

He didn’t need sight to know you were dramatically wiggling your eyebrows at him. “You heard about that, huh?” He asked, blushing furiously. While he was depressingly still hung up on you, the raw animalistic desires that composed his Id could only be suppressed for so long.

“Oh Foggy spared no detail when we got coffee this morning.”

Trying his damndest not to feel miffed that you’d had coffee with only his roommate, he aimed for a nonchalant tone. “Coffee with Fog, huh?”

“Well, it could have been both of you if you’d answered your phone.” You chuckled softly, shaking your head at the subtle pout on Matt’s face. “Don’t worry, trouble, you’re still my best guy.”

For a moment, all Matt could feel was the stutter of his heart. “Oh–uh, that’s,” He stammered, face glowing with a crimson blush. You giggled at his response.

“So is the raincoat a permanent fixture or did you just forget to take it off?”

Matt rolled his eyes, “Well, someone started talking to me and I got distracted.” Unzipping the vinyl jacket, he began to pry it off when a choking sound from you halted his movements.

“What?” He muttered, with feigned exasperation.

“Is that a new shirt?” You bit your lip to keep from laughing, already speculating just who had purchased that garment. The button down looked nothing like the simple ones Matt usually donned, and he usually dressed more conservatively in longer sleeved garments–there was no way he had purchased this fabric of his own free will.

Unlike the dark sweaters and monochrome shirts that made up the rest of his wardrobe, this shirt was…colorful, to say the least. The pattern was a horrendous combination of flames and hawaiian style flowers. A ring of scarlet cartoon hibiscus blossoms sat atop Matt’s waistline, composing a base for the flames, which looked like they’d been pulled off of a racist’s motorcycle.

Matt ran a hand along the hem, tilting his head in confusion. “This isn’t my shirt, is it?”

Stifling another round of giggles, you shook your head. “I don’t believe so, no.”

“You’re laughing. Fuck, what does it look like?”

“Um, it’s got flowers and…fire on it? Definitely not your style.”

“Shit!” Matt hissed, zipping up his coat as quietly as he could. “Foggy must’ve put it in my dresser.”

You bit back a smile, turning your attention to the professor who had begun looking for students to pick on.

After a few hours of legal jargon flowing in one ear and out the other, Matt could barely sit still—his mind already planning the trip home to inspect the rest of his clothes, which he assumed had also been replaced. Though he’d been willing to beg for your assistance, he’d only needed to ask for you to come with once before you agreed sincerely, clearly pitying him and his ugly shirt.

Sure enough, when they’d returned to his dorm and examined the contents of his dresser, it was filled with clothes that were most certainly not his. The textures were all wrong and you confirmed that they were all garishly patterned.

With a low growl, Matt slammed the drawer of his dresser shut, making you jump.

“Hey, it’s ok, we can just ask Foggy to put your stuff back!” You reasoned, placatingly.

Shaking his head with a snarl, he clenched his fists. “Oh no. This means war.”

You gulped, not finding an ounce of sarcasm in his words. If you were Foggy, you’d be begging for forgiveness about now.

The next couple weeks passed in an agonizing blur of lengthy readings and lonely work shifts. Matt and Foggy had doubled down on their efforts to out-prank each other, and it was beginning to take its toll on their relationship.

As the weather turned chilly and fallen leaves began to carpet the ground, you were finding it difficult to be in the same room with the two of them. After the wardrobe incident, Matt had sulked for two days, refusing to hang out with Foggy until he'd had his revenge. Armed with a box of hot pink hair dye and a few permanent markers, Matt was sure he'd be able to make Foggy look as ridiculous as those shirts made him feel. If your shocked reaction was any measurement, he'd say the effort succeeded.

Of course, Foggy rewarded this behavior with a prank of his own. Finding and removing his formerly pristine school supplies from mounds of loose Jello had been a horrendous sensory experience that Matt NEVER wanted to repeat. That was approximately 4 days ago and Matt was STILL finding dried bits of lime jello in his pen caps.

The two continued to trade practical jokes, currently locked in a battle of removing each other’s furniture. He was still working on his most recent prank at your next study group session. With the help of a floormate, Matt had been able to move Foggy's desk, chair, and mattress to the roof of the dorm. Sweating profusely while he heaved the plastic covered mattress up the last flight of stairs, he didn't hear you approaching.

“Whatcha doin'?“ You asked cautiously, taking in the manic determination on full display.

”Pranking...Foggy.” He managed. Fuck he needed to hit a gym.

“Well, that was a given. Do we think that this is still within the realm of friendly teasing? Or...”

“He can sleep on a bed...when my stuff...stops smelling like it's made of fucking fruit.”

“Hmmm. Ok. I'll be in your room then.” You replied, your words tinged with a disappointment that Matt wasn't anticipating. It irked him, pulling at his stressed consciousness uncomfortably. How come you hadn’t shown the same reaction when Foggy had moved his things across the hall a week ago? Shrugging off the guilt he felt, he mustered up the strength to shove the mattress up to its destination.

Huffing breaths as he shuffled down the stairs to you, he couldn't shake the lingering irritation that your tone had implanted in his psyche. You were sitting on folded legs in his bed, textbook open in your lap.

“Ready to study?” You questioned, not glancing up from the text.

“Depends, am I going to get a lecture?”

“On intentional torts? I'm not an expert, but I can definitely try--” Your innocent tone did nothing to soothe his growing frustration.

“That's not what I meant and we both know that.” He bit out, “If you have a problem with it, you can just say so, I'm not made of glass.”

“There's no problem, Matty.” Your heart stuttered and his anger sparked.

“Bullshit.” He scoffed, pacing in front of you.

“I don't know what's up with you and Fog, that's your business, this just seems...extreme, Matt.”

“He took my clothes, that wasn't 'extreme' to you?”

“I didn't say that! I'm just saying this isn't an effective way to communicate that you weren't comfortable with him touching your stuff.”

Rolling his eyes, Matt yanked the door open. “On second thought, I think I'm good with this chapter of torts. I'll see you in class next week.”

“Matt,” He couldn't bear to focus on you, your rapidly crumpling body language, the lump of emotion in your throat.

“Please. I don't want to lose another friend.” He pleaded.

Sighing in defeat, you closed the book and left without a word.

Matt breathed shallowly, matching his inhales to the pattern of your retreating steps as he cursed himself for turning you away. Setting his jaw, he swiped away a drop of moisture from his cheek and set off for the stairs.

It was hours before Foggy got home, out with a group of students from his Modern Dance class. Walking carefully into the dark room, he flipped on the lights and hunkered down on his bed, stripping off his dirty socks before opening his Property textbook.

“Hey Matt, have you started on the Property essay yet?” He asked the stiff lump of a man who lay in his own bed facing the wall.

“No.” Came the gruff response of his surly roommate.

“Shit, I was hoping you'd have started with our jitterbug so I could mooch some tips off you two geniuses.”

Matt didn't so much as snort in response to the bad joke. Instead, he abruptly rolled over and snatched his cane from its place beside the door.

“I'm going for a walk.” Matt remarked, icily.

“Oh, uh, ok did you want—”

“No.” Shutting the door firmly on his way out, Foggy blinked at his shadow as it disappeared.

“Goodnight to you too, I guess” He scoffed, turning back to his assignment with a roll of his eyes.

Setting your jaw, you blew out a breath and knocked on the door. When you received silence in return, you rolled your eyes and knocked with more vigor. “Matthew, Franklin, I know you’re in there!”

A very apprehensive Foggy appeared as the door slid open. Shoving past him and into the room, you gave a furtive smile. “Hello, how are you, I'm also well, thanks for asking.” You rattled off, collapsing into Matt's creaky desk chair.

Foggy was still hovering nervously by the door, avoiding your stern gaze, while Matt courageously pretended not to notice your presence--fingers running over lines of braille in a thick book. Folding your hands together, you plastered on a sardonic grin. “Now that we've got the pleasantries out of the way, I would like to kindly request that you two get your shit together.”

Your blunt words and brash tone ignited defensiveness in them both. Foggy spluttered and Matt turned to face you with a look of indignation.

“What are you–” “We weren't–”

“Cut the crap.” You interrupted the pair, leaning against the frame of the chair and crossing your arms. “You want to fight with each other? Let a stupid prank war drive our group apart? Fine. But the least you can fucking do is grow some balls and tell me that yourselves. I'm tired of the sulking. So, what'll it be? Are we done?”

Both boys sat sheepishly in their own silence. Foggy kicked his feet as if he were a toddler on a swing, Matt looked like a kicked puppy—crimson blush glowing on his cheeks as he pushed up his glasses.

After several moments of hesitant silence, Matt spoke up. “We aren’t done.”

Nodding in relief, you jerked your chin at Foggy, “Fog, you agree?”

“Course I do! There’s no way I’ll graduate without the two of you. It’s in my best interests to keep you happy.” It was clearly meant to seem like a joke, but the way Foggy’s voice trailed off at the end made you tilt your head.

“Hey, you know that’s not true right? You’re plenty capable of doing this on your own!” Frowning, you watched as Foggy’s face crumpled before your legs were moving of their own accord, carrying you to his side as he turned his glossy eyes to his bedspread. “Hey, Fog, I’m serious!”

Running a hand along his shoulder, your heart split in two as fat tears slipped down his face.

“Fog, buddy, you’re so smart!” Matt chimed in, crossing the divide between the two beds and settling on the blond’s over side. Tugging Foggy to rest against your shoulder, Matt’s head stacked against yours atop Foggy’s blond hair–the three of you melding together into a stressed heap as the heightened emotions of the past week culminated.

“It’s true, don’t deny it.” Foggy lamented from his place on your shoulder, strands of his thick hair sticking to the glistening trails that ran across his blotchy cheeks. “I have no idea what I’m doing, I shouldn’t be here! Maybe my parents are right and I should drop out to work in the family store instead.”

“The hell you should! You’re just as capable of this shit as we are.” You assured him, rubbing a hand up and down his sweatshirt clad arm. “And you’re not the only one worried about passing. I freak out about that every day!”

“Yah, but you’re not the one who failed the Civil Procedure midterm.” The long haired boy sobbed.

You froze, second-hand anxiety rippling through you like a stiff breeze. Matt’s head lifted from yours and cocked towards his roommate. “Oh Fog, why didn’t you tell us?”

“You were mad at me and we weren’t hanging out anymore and–and–” The poor kid was bawling, fists clenching around the worn fabric of his pajama pants as feelings of terror and embarrassment welled up in his chest.

“It’s ok, bud, just breathe.” You soothed shakily, trying to model steady breaths for him. Sensing your intentions, Matt smiled encouragingly.

“That’s it, dude. You got it.” When the blond’s breathing evened, Matt nudged his shoulder gently. “I’m really sorry that I pushed you away. I was acting like a fucking middle schooler instead of being honest with you. Just know, you can always always come to me, even if we’re fighting.”

“Same here.” You added, studying Matt’s blank eyes for a moment, “That goes for both of you.”

“Can we go back to being best friends now?” Foggy sniffled, pulling back to look between you and Matt warily.

“We never stopped being best friends, silly,” Pulling Foggy into a tight hug, you huffed a chuckle as he sighed in relief.

“Well, ya could’ve fooled me.” The words were muffled as Foggy continued to press his face into your cardigan.

The bed stirred underneath you as Matt shifted uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, you could see him building up the courage to confess, “I’ve never, uh, I’ve never really had…friends before.” Matt’s words were calculated, trying not to reveal too much anguish as he spoke. “I had a mentor for a bit, at the orphanage, but that was it. So, I’ll admit, I’m not the most…practiced at this.”

“That’s ok, Matty. We can teach you. Right, Fog?” Taking the raven-haired boy’s hand, you waited for the other’s assent.

He nodded viciously, swiping a hand over his damp face. “Of course.”

Squeezing Matt’s hand, you giggled. “You’re stuck with us now, Matty.”

With a satisfied grin, Matt threw an arm over Foggy’s shoulders. “Thank god. Who else will put googly eyes on all my stuff?”

Foggy smiled as you giggled, but his face quickly fell as you brought up studying again. “As for that test Fog, we can go through it together. There’s plenty of time until the end of the semester and we have two other exams. You can do this.”

“You think so?” Biting his lip, Foggy glanced between you and Matt.

“We know so, bud.” Matt promised. “We’re in this together. Right, jitterbug?”

“Ok, where is this ‘jitterbug’ nonsense coming from.” You scoffed, biting back a smile at Matt’s hearty laugh.

“Don’t ask me, Foggy started it!” Matt chuckled.

“Sure, pass the blame to the crying kid!” Rolling his eyes, Foggy elbowed Matt in the chest.

“You’re not even crying anymore!”

“You’re both deflecting!” You butted in, earning new excuses from both boys.

As the three of you argued, you remained a knot of limbs–shadows and pink rays of light dancing across your smiles as the sun set.

Thank you for reading!!

Bonus Content: the shirt referenced in Foggy's second prank!!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts@mrs-bellingham@abucketofweird@yeonalie@jadeunstablexx@spider-murdock@0ctober-writes@danzer8705

95 notes · View notes

mivyts · 10 months

Text

Flight of the Navigator

Nagi Seishiro/Reader

fem reader!!

wc: 8k

meet-cute, (a little bit of) miscommunication, fluff, hurt/comfort

The cute guy who stole your coffee turns out to be a famous football player and you...turn out to need a lot of help with communicating.

It wasn't always this quiet.

Your old apartment used to be full of noise and excitement. The new one is empty and dead and dark and you're not sure how to fix it. You just need people to fill the space, you think. That's how it was before, three friends renting an apartment, full of youth and excitement for college. Until it became tedious hours just working and studying. Until one friend left to move in with their partner and the other relocated due to work.

Left to pay rent that was previously split by three people, you decided it might be time to move on as well. And the prospect excited you. A new place meant new people, a fresh start, a way to let go of everything.

But you forgot how much you hated change.

Meeting new people, finding a new job, navigating a new supermarket. (Why is their cereal kept at the very back?) God, you despised it all. The only familiar thing would be going to the same university.

You miss your old friends and you hate that they've adapted so quickly. You text the group chat only to get a reply hours later, almost always saying they're too busy to call. On the rare occasion you do speak to them over a call, the question 'How are things going?' manages to make your good mood fade away. Your bland answers of "Oh, fine! School is normal as always and the new job is paying the bills." always seem so boring compared to Inara telling you about her new cat and her weekend road trips or Malia telling you both that she thinks her boyfriend is gonna propose to her because "he's been acting too suspicious and there's like…no way he's cheating on me."

Moping around in your dead apartment did, of course, nothing to help. But today was different. Today, you were bursting with energy and just itching for something to do. So, you grab a jacket and head out.

You head over to a cafe that's now familiar to you, even though the old one you used to frequent hasn't quite left your mind. The streets are more crowded than you're used to and you should've expected it, coming out on a Sunday evening.

You order a coffee and grab a seat. You have your little outing planned out in your head; get something to fill your stomach and take a short walk in the park. Being outside has already lifted your spirits and you're mad at yourself for being so stubborn about leaving your house until now.

When your order is called out you look up from your phone and make your way to the counter, where the barista looks out expectantly. Just when you're within arms distance of the counter, a big hand engulfs what is obviously your cup.

You pause, figuring that this guy probably just ordered the same thing as you. Even though you did have energy, it wasn't the talking to people type. So, you decide you'll just wait for the barista to call out your order again. Unfortunately, your body follows your thoughts a little slower and the guy with your coffee notices you standing awkwardly to the side, half-turned and hand jutted out.

He looks at the cup in his hand that he's just finished paying for and then back at you. He opens his mouth to say something and you're half expecting him to give you the coffee.

"My bad."

You stand there dumbfounded as he walks out, coffee in hand.

You walk back to your seat, cheeks warm with embarrassment though you're not sure why. You're stuck in the cafe until you hear your order being called out once more and this time you're able to collect it mishap free.

The woman working at the counter gives you a small smile as she hands you your items, as if to acknowledge the previous interaction. You smile back amicably.

Later, when you're tossing in bed with your eyes unable to close you inevitably think about your interaction with the strange but insanely attractive guy from earlier. His white hair had looked so fluffy and his soft eyes were filled with a kind of luring haziness.

And you start thinking with naive hope that maybe if you visit the cafe more often, you might get to see his face again.

His oddly familiar face.

–

A week later, there's still no sign of the (probably famous) guy. You can't come up with any other logical explanation for why he would seem so familiar otherwise.

Every morning on your way to university you stop by the cafe, sometimes trying out something new on the menu. (You'd never thought a carrot cake could taste this good.) It gives you a sort of purpose, making you feel better about yourself for not rotting in your room, even if the reason might be silly.

You've mostly lost hope of seeing this white haired guy again but you're not that sad about it. You're more happy about the fact that you sometimes get to feed the stray dogs and cats you see on your way to the park where you lay down your blanket to work on an essay for uni.

And the fact that you've discovered new friends, all by yourself. A girl named Mika who'd befriended you at work and who you later discovered attended the same university as you. And the two friends who often sat next to you in one of your classes, Manha and Haru.

You feel independent, and it's new and refreshing and the feeling is welcome. It's a feeling you never got while living with your parents or even your old roommates. For the first time in a while you feel good about yourself.

And it's (mostly) all thanks to some random hot guy who said no more than two words to you.

So, once again on a Sunday evening you stand third in line at the cafe, hoping that they haven't run out of carrot cake. The line grows behind you as you text Haru confirmation that you'd be able to make it to a movie night tonight.

When you're finally in front of the counter you're glad to see three slices of carrot cake left in the display and you ask the employee to pack all three of them for you.

When she comes back, a filled paper bag in hand, you have your cash ready to give to her but an arm reaches over your shoulder, placing a card on the counter.

"I'll pay for it."

Your back straightens immediately, personal space breached and eyes widened as you step away from the person behind you. Nervously, you turn around, ready to confront whoever it is but those words die on your tongue.

"Oh. It's you." You end up blurting.

The guy with white hair who's been plaguing your mind stands right here, in front of you, reaching over you a bit to type into the keypad of the card swiping machine after he gets a muffin for himself.

"It's me. Consider this an apology for stealing your coffee last time."

"Ah. It's okay, it happens." You give him a smile.

He nods, and you're not sure what else to say.

"And…thank you." You give him a nod before taking a seat at one of the booths. You have your laptop opened up soon enough and your headphones are over your head, blasting a playlist. The daunting face of the google doc of one of your half completed essays stares back at you from the laptop. You take a sip of your coffee and then with a deep breath, your hands are poised over the keyboard and you begin to type.

You're only a sentence in when something disturbs your vision. You look up, quickly lowering your headphones to look back at the same white haired guy.

"...sitting here?" You only hear the end half of his sentence.

"Sorry?"

"Is someone sitting here?" He speaks again, with an expression so blank it betrays nothing. He's gesturing to the seat across from you in the booth.

"Oh, no! You can go ahead."

He sits down across from you, turning on his phone. You can just barely see his screen to notice he's playing some kind of game. You faintly hear the sound effects of it.

You decide to pause your music and keep your headphones around your neck, in case he speaks again.

He doesn't, but you relax enough to spend the next 45 minutes or so working on your essay. You're too focused on your work for the background noise to even bother you. You've made a good amount of progress by the time you decide to pack up and head home to get ready for Haru's movie night.

The mystery white haired guy still sits across from you, tapping away at his phone. When you put your laptop back in your bag and take the last bite of a muffin you had ordered, the guy sighs lightly.

"Ah. I died." His eyebrows raise just slightly and you can't even tell if he's mad about it.

"What are you playing?" You ask, tentative.

He looks up and tells you the name of the game and you can't help but gasp.

"Holy shit. I used to play that in high school."

"Who'd you main?" He scoots over to make place for you and you sit down next to him, peeking at his phone.

You scroll through his characters, a finger on his screen while he still holds it, until you come across your favorite character.

"This guy! I loved him so much." A smile catches onto your face and you feel so nostalgic.

"That is such a beginner character."

"Shut up. Who do you main?"

He scrolls back up to the top of the characters to click on a character you recognize. She has long brightly colored hair and a cool design.

"You are so basic, everybody uses her."

"You use the character level 10 players use."

"He's good!" You exclaim defensively and he simply raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"You should play again." He suggests.

"I don't have the time, man." You lean back and away from him, no longer looking at his phone.

He moves on quickly, instead opening up the game folder on his phone and asking you if you'd played any of them before.

Memories tug on your brain again and you tell him about the time you'd stayed up till three the night before an exam, just defeating bosses on one of the games.

He laughs, and conversation flows easily with a common topic of interest. You talk along with him and time passes so quickly you're not even aware of it until your phone lights up with a notification and you catch sight of the time.

"Oh, fuck. I have to go." You blurt out, interrupting him.

He stares at you, lips parted and big eyes as you gather your things as quickly as you can. It's only half an hour before you're supposed to be at Haru's house and you shove all your things inside your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

Facing the guy you say, "I'm so sorry! I have to be somewhere. I'll see you around, though!"

He barely gets time to utter the words 'see you' before you're rushing off.

And when you go, you take with you something he wants to keep. A fulfilling feeling he never wants to let go of. He needs to speak to you again to have it back.

You speed walk home and rush yourself getting ready but you manage to make it to Haru's for the movie night. (26 minutes later than the time you'd told him)

Haru drops both you and Manha home after your night. Your house comes first and Manha loudly bids farewell to you after you exit the car, smiling widely. Haru simply waves with a smile.

When you crawl into bed, slightly tipsy from a couple glasses of wine, you think about the guy from the cafe and you can't help but feel like he's given you something. A feeling of happiness to keep for yourself.

–

You meet him twice more the next week. You forgo going to the park to work on stuff, instead choosing to sit in the cafe, hoping to run into the same guy again.

You figure you've become a sort of a regular because the baristas who work in the evenings always greet you with a smile.

You meet him on Wednesday and then on Friday, and you wonder about what kind of schedule he's got. He always walks in after 6pm, walking to the counter to order and then to your booth, asking if he could sit.

(You say yes both times of course.)

You tell him about the new game you downloaded on your laptop and his eyes light up with recognition. He tells you he knows it but he's never played it.

"Oh my god, I've been obsessed. You have to get it, it's so good." You gush.

"Okay, I'll get it."

You laugh triumphantly.

You're typing on your computer, working on uni work when you suddenly remember.

"Oh my god."

Across from you, he looks up.

"What's your name?" You ask.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, like he was just remembering the same thing.

"Nagi Seishiro." He says.

You tell him your own name before it hits you.

Nagi Seishiro…

"That's why you look familiar!" You blurt out.

"You know me?" He looks at you, eyebrows raised again.

"Who doesn't?" You smile.

But truthfully the only reason you know of him is because of your younger brother, i.e arguably the biggest fan of Manshine City. He's probably the only person you're in contact with from your family and you'd rather die than stop talking to him. He's also the only person who'd bothered to stay in touch after you moved out of your parents house.

You always click through his close friends story with a fondness, seeing him and his friends celebrate or sit in misery when their teams win or lose. It never fails to make you laugh.

You and Nagi sit and talk until he has to leave for something or the other and you pack up as well, heading home.

On the way home you text your brother,

you will not BELIEVE who im friends with!!!

–

The next time you meet him, he's at the cafe before you.

When you walk in you spot him immediately, having taken residence over the booth you two normally sit in.

You get your coffee and a snack and seat yourself opposite him, without having to ask. He looks up for a second before his eyes go back to his game.

"Wow, early today?" You ask, opening up your laptop. You haven't got any work to do today so you open your current favorite game, leeching off of the cafe's wifi.

"Yeah. No practice today."

"Lucky. I had a class till three today." You pretend to gag.

He huffs in amusement. "Why would you voluntarily still attend school? I would rather die, it's so much of a hassle."

"Because! I like what I'm learning." You say defensively before continuing, "It's just…annoying to have to do work."

You smile guiltily at him and he says, "You're so right. Sleeping is better."

"Don't you wake up at like six for your practice or whatever?" You raise an eyebrow.

"Doesn't mean I want to though." He shoots back and sighs before continuing, "Football is such a hassle."

You smile amusedly. "Everything's a hassle to you."

"That's true."

With his eyes cast downwards at his phone, he doesn't see the way you smile fondly.

–

After a week, he finally gets your number.

Haru was supposed to pick you up and take you to a concert but he'd texted you suddenly, saying he'd gotten sick and that it had to be cancelled.

You weren't too sad about it considering Manha was supposed to go with him originally, they were both big fans of the band playing. The only reason she cancelled was because she caught the flu (which probably spread to Haru). You'd only offered to go in her stead because they didn't want the ticket to go to waste and after giving a couple listens to their songs, you decided you wouldn't mind listening to them live.

So, you stare at the texts Haru has just sent you, dampered. You hoped walking home this late wouldn't be as scary as it sounds.

"What happened?"

You look up to meet Nagi's concerned eyes.

"It's nothing, don't worry. My friend just can't take me to that concert I was telling you about. So I'll probably have to walk home now." You groan. "I don't think buses run this late."

It only just hit 8:30 but walking to the bus stop would take more time and you would probably miss the last bus.

"What are you talking about? I can just drop you home." He says, and looks genuinely confused.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you." You nibble on your lower lip.

He nods. "You're fine, don't worry. I don't have anything going on tonight. Tell me when you're ready to leave."

It's already late enough so you leave right away, packing your bag and exiting alongside Nagi.

"Wow." He hears from you when you enter his car. He raises an eyebrow.

"It's so clean." Your expression shows surprise and awe. His car isn't too fancy but it still…looks like a rich person owns it.

"Why do you always expect the worst from me?" It's a rhetorical question and you respond by laughing.

"Isn't it obvious?" You smile.

He gives you a dirty look but you can tell there's no real heat behind it.

"Which way are we heading?" He inquires.

When you tell him the name of your apartment complex he just stares blankly at you and you sigh. You rack your brain for some sort of landmark near your place.

"Do you know the park with that crazy lion fountain?"

He hums, thinking about it before saying, "Wait near that one gym?"

"Yes!"

"Oh! I know that place." His eyes light up.

"Okay just go there and then I can guide you."

He gives you the aux, albeit hesitatingly. The first song you play is horrible just to spite him. You laugh so hard when he visibly flinches at the sound of it. But when you do play the music you actually enjoy, you catch him slightly bopping his head to it.

"Do you mind if we stop here?" He questions, leaning his head towards a convenience store and slowing down.

You shake your head, too focused on the song playing to formulate a verbal response. He takes the turn to the store and soon enough you find yourself trailing Nagi as he browses the fridges.

"You want anything?" He spares you a glance while he rifles through a fridge. You hum before taking a round through the small store and you find what you're looking for in the small shelf that houses various cookies. You see the packet you want behind a couple of others so you reach your hand in, fingers catching on your choice of cookies and you pull it out, unfortunately pulling three other packets along with it. They clatter to the floor and the crinkle of plastic is relatively loud.

A fourth packet sits on the edge of the shelf, just about to tilt over and when it does, your hands rush to catch it. But it just makes more noise when you fail to catch it in midair, hitting the shelf before the floor.

You look around to make sure no one saw the commotion before bending down and picking up the packets of cookies.

A choked sound makes you look up to see Nagi covering his mouth as he laughs. He's also got his phone out and you suspect he's already taken a couple of photos.

Heat rises to your face. "What are you doing! Stop, it's not even- stop!"

He continues to giggle and you finish clearing up the fallen packets before collecting the one you'd wanted from the beginning.

"Let's go!" You tell him, turning him around and patting his shoulder. He still has a small smile on his face.

"That's all?" He asks, and you nod

He walks over to the counter, a plethora of snacks in his arms and you follow with your packet of cookies. He pays for everything and he carries his small bag of snacks to the car.

"I can pay you back for-"

"No. It's literally just some cookies, it's fine."

You don't ask about it anymore even with the nagging feeling in your gut that it isn't right, but you're somehow glad you didn't have to spend more money.

In the car, he already has a newly bought lollipop sitting in his mouth as he giggles at his phone.

"What are you laughing at?"

His amused eyes meet yours as he twists the phone so you can see the photo of you looking embarrassed after you dropped the cookies. You swipe and the photos show the events as they progress, you bending down and picking up the packets, your mouth open as you say something to Nagi.

Most of the photos are bad, consisting of you with an unflattering expression covering your face but the last one makes you gasp.

"Wait, Nagi send me this. I actually look good here." You zoom in on the photo, examining this and that.

It's another photo of you standing with a packet of cookies in hand, but this time a smile graces your features as you face Nagi (and the camera) and you look really good.

"Okay, but how?" He starts up the car and reverses, doing the thing where he places his arm behind your headrest and looks behind. You do your best not to stare.

It distracts you for a second and you say, "Ah- sorry?"

"I don't have your number." He clarifies.

"Oh my god, you're right. Give me your phone, I'll save it." You keep a hand out.

He juts his hip out just a little and says, "Take it."

You look at him, but he's got his eyes on the road and you realise he can't afford to let go of the wheel right now.

Your hand reaches into the pocket of his pants where you can see the outline of his phone and you flush at the proximity. You pull out his phone, unfortunately ridding yourself of his warmth.

"The passwords 3333."

"That is actually so stupid."

"You're stupid."

You ignore him, tapping onto the contacts icon and you save your number, typing out your first name. You send a text to yourself so that you can save his number on your own phone.

"Okay, done." You smile at him.

"Thanks."

He pulls up in front of your complex soon enough and you smile at him as you exit his car.

"Thank you for the ride, Nagi."

"You're welcome." He's got a barely noticeable smile on his face.

When you slip into bed, you open the text you sent yourself from Nagi's phone.

youre better than me at gaming

wow

im glad you can finally admit it

He replies quickly.

u r so annoying

You grin, knowing he's not serious. He remembers to send you the photo of yourself and you send him a text saying thank you.

You turn your phone off soon after that and clutch your pillow, squealing into it before you fall asleep.

–

The next time you meet him, it's at the theatre.

Haru, Manha and even Mika had declined your offer to go and see your favorite film that you'd heard was being screened again.

You'd texted Nagi about it and when you'd discovered he'd never even seen the movie, you convinced him to come see it with you.

"Why couldn't we just watch this at your place or something?" He says as the two of you get situated in your seats.

"It's all about the atmosphere, man."

After the movie, he drives the two of you to your now favorite cafe, where you force him to give you his detailed opinion about the movie. You banter back and forth and in the moment you're just so aware of how comfortable you are with him.

There have been…moments during the movie and even now, where you sit beside him in the booth instead of opposite to him. During the movie, you'd clutched his hand and squealed excitedly (and softly) when your favorite scene was playing. He'd clutched back and continued to hold your hand for the rest of the movie. Every time you wanted to tell him something, you had to lean forward and speak into his ear because the volume of the movie was so loud. When he'd done the same to you, you were just glad he couldn't hear how fast your heart was beating.

He drops you back home, now (mostly) familiar with the way to your house.

"You just took the wrong turn, you fucker!"

When you finally reach your place, you disconnect your phone from the aux and that's when he speaks up,

"Was this a date?"

You pause, but you know better than to stutter and gape like an idiot.

"...did you want it to be a date?"

He meets your eyes, unwavering and without hesitating says, "Yes."

You smile, somewhat shy and unbelieving.

"Then it was a date."

He smiles back at you and it's so, so pretty.

When he asks if he can kiss you, you don't trust yourself to speak coherently so you nod demurely.

You lean in and when he does too, you shut your eyes and your lips find his through darkness. The kiss itself is not something magical but the way something is fulfilled inside you feels like it. He holds you then, and you feel so safe.

You kiss him in his car more times than you can count, and you can't fight off the smile you have on your face until it falls away in your sleep.

–

The second date is his idea.

He ends up taking you out to dinner. It's a fancy restaurant, in a part of the city you haven't explored fully yet.

You're relieved you'd thought to ask him where he'd planned on taking you ahead of time so you were able to dress for the occasion. You're wearing a simple black dress but it's not so casual that you look like you don't belong among the rest of the diners.

He tells you about his longtime friend and teammate Mikage Reo and you tell him about how your little brother is a big fan of his team. After you let Nagi know that you're not really in contact with the rest of your family he knows not to pry but he tells you about his own parents.

His sleepy eyes and lazy smile and his soft hair that shakes every time he moves with laughter make you feel like someone new.

After dinner he drops you home and the tips of his ears turn red when you kiss him goodnight. You give him one last smile before leaving his car.

–

You fall into a routine. It's comfortable and you're able to flex around it.

You attend classes, work, complete assignments and meet Nagi whenever the opportunity arises.

You've been happy with him and he says the same about you but some bitter, small part of your mind gives in to insecurity sometimes.

You don't voice these insecurities out to him, of course not, especially given the fact that you guys aren't…actually dating. Neither of you have labeled your relationship and admittedly, you're too scared to.

Despite the fact you've spent so many days over at his house, and him at yours, and the two of you have gone out multiple times, and despite the amount of times you've made out, you'd never actually asked him the big question.

Are we dating?

To be fair, he hadn't asked you either but you really couldn't tell what he was thinking.

But it didn't affect you so badly that you couldn't stop thinking about it. Sure, maybe with how close the two of you have been during the last two months you should put a definite status to your relationship but you could suffice without one. He made you happy and that was enough for you.

And yeah, some days were still worse than others, when you were stuck in bed with no motivation to even get up and brush your teeth but you pushed through it. Nagi came over once when this happened, hoodie pulled over his head and a takeout bag in hand.

That day, he sent you a text offering to bring some food for you after you told him you weren't feeling well. You'd honestly thought that he meant he would drop it off and move on with his night but he'd come over with the intention to stay for a while.

You'd been so afraid that you'd scare him away with your disheveled appearance and no energy to talk, but he had almost wordlessly opened the takeout containers and loaded a show you liked on your laptop.

After he left that night, you'd cried so hard. Not out of sadness but some kind of fear. Fear of the realisation that you might be in love with him. Fear of the fact that he had so much power over you, just because of your feelings. And fear that you might mess up whatever the two of you had going on.

But you also felt so loved. Loved when you opened the door for him and he gave you a kiss on the temple and a light embrace. Loved when he didn't seem to mind that you didn't feel like talking. Loved when he did this for you without you even asking.

He had texted you the next morning, asking if you wanted him to come over that night as well. The smiley face he sends in response to your affirmation has you smiling just like it.

So, you were fine with the fact that you and Nagi were the way you were without a label. That is, until you get a text from him.

hey

you remember Reo?

he's having a get together this Friday and said I could invite you if I wanted

you wanna come?

It leaves you thinking. (Spiralling)

Why would he invite you to hang out with just his friends? Do they know about you? Do they think you guys are an item? Does Nagi think you guys are an item?

You voice none of these concerns, which isn't right on your part but you're more concerned about getting ridiculed for your worries. Despite the rational side of your brain saying, Seishiro wouldn't do that, the fear still plagues you.

But you ignore all of it, and text him,

yeah!

sounds fun:)

The only thing you can think about now is not to mess this up.

–

This is definitely not a get together.

Mikage Reo's house is filled with people. Way too many people to call it a get together. It was definitely a party.

Nagi is by your side, the way he has been since he picked you up in his car and drove you both all the way to Reo's penthouse. He holds your hand in his as he navigates through the crowd, making sure you don't get lost while he searches for his friend.

You haven't been to a party like this in ages. You remember the last time, you and your friends had drank till you'd puked and when you woke up you were laying in the bathtub with a raging headache. (You were supposed to be designated driver.)

You pass people standing around and chatting, some on their phones. A group of friends doing shots by the kitchen counter while a couple makes out against a wall not too far from them. Several people call out to Nagi in greeting, coming over to say something or the other to him. Some of them offer you a handshake and introduce themselves with a smile and some barely pay you a glance.

You're not too bothered by it. It just kind of…reminds you that you're not really from Nagi's world. You're not sure if you belong in it. But for the time being, his hand in yours placates you.

The flashing lights are just starting to get to your eyes when Nagi finally finds Reo. He's sitting on the couch in a group of people, some of them you vaguely recognize.

"Nagi!"

When you get close enough, someone from the group spots Nagi and waves energetically.

Nagi lets go of your hand to get closer and give a half hug to the guy, who you now recognize.

His striking blue eyes make a light bulb go off in your head and you remember the time you'd told your brother, "This Isagi guys' eyes are too bright." But with him being as famous as he is, you'd be able to recognize him without your brother's sporadic information about footballers.

When he's finally done greeting Isagi he comes back to you twiddling your thumbs and claps his hands over your shoulders.

"Guys, this is my friend."

You won't lie, it stings. To consider Nagi the closest person to you right now and just be called a friend, it pinches your gut. You hope it doesn't show on your face.

He tells them your name and then points at them from left to right and tells you their names.

You really can't remember any of them after five seconds other than Mikage, Isagi and an energetic guy named Bachira.

You smile at them, full of nerves and say, "Hi!"

As the night goes on you find yourself proven wrong. You hadn't expected meeting Nagi's friends to go anything better than just fine but it's going unexpectedly great.

You're seated with Reo on your right and Nagi on your left. Reo says nothing but, "It's great to finally meet you." with a smile. You smile back genuinely saying, "Likewise."

You open up eventually, not feeling afraid to butt into the conversation the longer you spend time with them.

Isagi has his arm around a girl who's friendly enough to have a good, genuine conversation with. She exasperatedly tells you, "It's nice not to be the only girl here!"

It only becomes slightly awkward when she asks you, "So…you and Nagi?"

Your eyes go wide and you reflexively think of denying whatever she's implying but you don't want to lie so you're not exactly sure what to say. You shut your mouth and laugh curiously, and with a raised eyebrow you say, "Me and Nagi…?"

She simply smiles knowingly. You know your initial reaction was too obvious to hide.

You learn that Isagi and Bachira are just big dorks and that the closest the guy who's blonde hair is dyed pink at the ends (and whose name you just can't remember) will get to smiling is a crazy looking smirk.

You tell Mikage that your brother's favorite player is probably him (if it's the same as it was a few months ago) and he laughs loudly, saying it gave him an ego boost. Nagi tells him his ego is already sky high.

Eventually, you guys have a couple rounds of drinks and it helps you loosen up further. When everyone goes ahead to dance, you're fine with staying alongside Nagi who says "dancing is such a hassle" and watching him play a game on his phone. Until a song you really like comes on and you get jealous of the people already dancing to it so you tug on his sleeve.

"Seishiro, pleaseee."

He spares you a glance, fingers still tapping away on his phone. "Just go without me."

"No way! I barely know these people. Please?" You try again. You're trying to get on the dance floor before the song gets over.

He sighs and gives in, muttering about how this is taking too much effort. You pull him to the dance floor with a grin. When the others spot you two, they cheer. Bachira comes over to clap you on the back and congratulate you for getting Nagi to dance before disappearing again.

A few dance breaks are taken where Nagi's friends convince him to do a couple rounds of shots with them. You prefer a cup of water. By the time the alcohol sets in he's clinging to you and pulling you back to the dance floor.

"C'mon, I thought you wanted to dance."

You laugh, "Oh how the turned tables."

You enjoy yourself, mentally reminding yourself to thank Nagi for inviting you to this later. You forget about everything you're worrying about while you dance.

Drunk Nagi still clings to you by the time you two are leaving. You hold his arm around your shoulder and keep your arm around his waist, trying your best to support his weight as you both wait for the lift to arrive.

You turn your head around when you hear your name called out. Nagi continues to hum the tune of a song you can't recognize as his head rests on top of yours.

Reo stands in his doorway, holding out a phone that when you squint, you recognize as your white haired friend's.

"Sei, wait for me okay? I'll be right back." You tell him, and leave him to lean against the wall as you make your way to Reo.

"Shit, thank you Reo." You pocket Nagi's phone.

"Yeah, no problem. See you around." He nods at you.

You smile back and say the same before turning to walk back to Nagi.

"Hey wait."

You swivel back around, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Yeah?"

He meets your eyes and speaks, not hesitating, "Whatever you two are doing…don't mess it up. Be worth his time."

You swallow and the only thing you can recall are the words you said to yourself before. Because you're so scared of messing it up. Mikage is probably speaking out of care for his friend but it feels so personal to you.

You meet Reo's fierce eyes again. "Yeah. Yeah- I'll treat him well. Bye, Reo."

He goes back to his party without saying bye. A good amount of the crowd is still present considering that it's not too late and the only reason you and Nagi are leaving is because Nagi kept whining about being sleepy. Not that you're complaining.

You get back to Nagi, guiding him into the lift.

"Hi. What did Reo want?" His hair drapes over his eyes as he looks at you.

"You forgot your phone, silly. He was just returning it" You smile and show him his phone, pushing it into his pants pocket for him.

"Thank you, Reo."

You laugh and ruffle Nagi's hair. He hums in content.

When you finally manage to get him in the car, you buckle him in and ask, "Your place or mine?"

"Hm?"

"You wanna go to your place or sleep over at mine?"

He turns to you, "You sleep over at my house."

"I don't think I have any clothes there though."

"Wear mine."

You can't smile, not when you're still thinking about what you two are. "Okay."

When you reach, you drag Nagi to the lift, go up and enter his apartment. You pull him all the way to his bed and lay him down, taking his shoes and socks off afterwards. He babbles nonsense as you do this although sometimes you can understand him whining about being sleepy.

"Then sleep, Seishiro." You murmur, pulling off your own outfit.

"But you're not here." He groans, flopping over to your side of the bed dramatically.

"Give me five minutes, Sei."

You change into his clothes like he suggested, and the graphic t-shirt looks comically big on you. You gulp down a glass of water from the kitchen and bring one to Nagi, helping him to sit up straight and drink. He only drinks about half the glass before saying, "I'm done."

He sinks back down, burrowing himself beneath the duvet. You go back to the kitchen to leave the glass in the sink to join Nagi on the bed.

He cuddles into you immediately, arm going over your body and one leg slung over yours. It's natural with how often you've slept beside him.. You shift around till you're comfy and not long after, Nagi falls asleep. His mouth hangs open slightly and you kiss him on the forehead, because he's just right there.

You don't fall asleep that quick though, eyes stuck to the ceiling as you replay Reo's words.

Don't mess it up.

–

Before you know what you're doing, you pull away.

When you notice that you've been getting avoidant of him, you try to justify it to yourself. Thinking things like: if his best friend doesn't like you, it's probably for the better this way.

You're scared of messing it up so you just…don't do anything at all.

You've been replying to his texts like normal but you decline his invitations to meet up. And when you'd normally call him to make up for that, you say no to those offers as well.

After almost two weeks of this, he texts you, asking what's wrong. You send back an innocent question mark. And no matter how much you keep trying to push against his insistence and concern, he doesn't stop questioning you.

And it gets to the point where you're close to tears, overwhelmed and afraid but it's no one's fault but your own, you think. You let Reo's words (and your own thoughts) get to you and you still can't face Nagi.

You just leave him on delivered for the time being, so scared that he hates you but more scared of making it worse by unintentionally saying something wrong.

The day goes by so slowly and you let out a big sigh when you finally get out of the lift and onto your floor in your apartment building. Work went badly today but it was only because you just weren't in the right frame of mind.

With your head down as you walk to the apartment you decide you'll text Nagi to meet up tomorrow and finally just talk about it. You're not exactly sure about what you're gonna say but you just can't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." You mutter, when you almost bump into someone outside your door.

They move but still linger, and you don't have the energy to even pay them a glance so you just shove your key into the door with a sigh.

You jolt upright when you hear your name. You twist around.

"Seishiro…"

He says your name again and you take his appearance in, and the bouquet of flowers he holds.

"I'm sorry…I don't know what I did but…" He begins, but doesn't get very far.

He sounds so in pain, like he really believes he's in the wrong and you cannot stop yourself from bursting into tears.

You think of wiping away your tears as discreetly as possible but a loud, choked sob escapes you before you can get away with it.

Nagi looks up, alarmed.

"Hey- what- why-? What's going on?" He comes forward and his hands land on your shoulder, trying to get a good look at you as you cover your face with your hand, pulling away.

You shake your head, unable to get comprehensible words out yet.

You try your best to stop but the tears just won't stop flowing and you try to tell him this.

"I'm sorr- I'm sorry, I don't know- why-" You interrupt yourself with another round of sobs and it just makes you feel more pathetic.

Nagi simply pulls you into him, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you let it all out. You feel the bouquet dig into your back but it grounds you almost more than Nagi's arms around you.

He guides you into your apartment, and sits you down on the couch, kissing your forehead before leaving to get you a glass of water. He comes back to you still on the couch, more calmed down, but still hiccupping. The ends of your sleeves are wet with snot and tears, like the front of his shirt. He helps you drink the water, a reassuring hand on your back as you gulp.

And he sits there, not pushing you until you're ready to speak. He waits and he waits.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Seishiro. It was never- nothing was your fault, I'm sorry you felt that way. I'm so, I just-" You shake your head as tears fill your eyes once more and you can't find the words to explain your predicament.

"Take your time. Start from the beginning, what happened?"

He's nothing but patient and his concerned filled eyes just make you feel worse about everything.

You take a deep breath, shuddering. "I- I was- Wait- I'm just, I'm sorry if this sounds ridiculous but I…I felt like I didn't deserve you.

"And then Mikage said don't mess this up and it just- it made me feel like I already did that. And- and I, I thought you didn't like me anymore because of everything and then you called me your <em>friend</em> and I just kind of- I didn't want to make it worse. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Your voice is all teary and you laugh at the end to try and play it off but you just sound like you're going insane.

Nagi's eyebrows are furrowed as they stare ahead.

"If I didn't like you, I would've never…paid for your drink that day. Or kept talking to you. Or any of the things that I did with you."

You don't reply, eyes on the ground and embarrassed at crying so much.

"What did Reo say to you?"

"Nothing! It was just something like, 'Don't mess it up and be worth Seishiro's time.'" You say, as if you don't replay what he said every other day. It seems so small to you now that Nagi's beside you and you're afraid he won't understand why you're this way.

"That asshole." He swears, brows still furrowed.

"No- Nagi, it's fine! It just took me off guard. He was just…looking out for you." You don't want to somehow come between the two of them.

"Bullshit. He could've been nicer about it." He shakes his head, frustrated.

When you don't say anything he speaks again, "And…I called you my friend that night because, well, Reo said I actually had to ask you to be my girlfriend, instead of just assuming it."

You laugh softly at the irony and Nagi's lips tug into a small smile as well.

"Mikage always seems to be at the scene of the crime.

"But Seishiro- he's right. You do have to ask me for it to be true."

"Was I supposed to ask you right there?"

"No! You could've asked me like, way before. I've been at your place making out with you like, everyday. Why would I say no?" You raise an eyebrow.

"And why couldn't you ask me?" He presses.

"Because! …Shut up." You turn your head away from him, flustered.

He laughs and fingers come to pinch at your jaw so he can turn you back to look at him. The love so clearly visible on his face makes you even more flustered.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" It's soft and lazy like all his words are but you like it.

"Yes." You whisper. He's so close, right in front of you.

You meet him halfway when he leans forward and you feel the smile against your lips.

–

It's about a month until the next time you meet Mikage Reo. He doesn't meet your eyes when he says sorry.

You smile, amused and say, "Don't worry about it."

You've lost the need to be scared of not living up to his standards.

He warms up to you eventually though and a month later, he says sorry again, not meeting your eyes still but meaning it this time. After that, you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders and you smile genuinely at him saying, "Don't worry about it. Reo."

Nagi never changes, his lazy words and soft eyes and white hair stay the same. You've told him you love him.

It's safe to say you're happy. You're happy as Nagi lays down on you, fast asleep after watching a movie. His head lays on your chest and your legs encircle his waist. Your fingers rake through his hair and you lean down to press a kiss on his scalp because he's just right there. And he always will be.

You lift your phone and take a photo of Nagi's head on your chest, his eyes shut and mouth half open. You make your hand into a peace sign above his head and in the photo you can just barely see the bottom of your face.

You send it to your brother, adding the text:

you'll never BELIEVE who im dating!!

#blue lock #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #reo mikage #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #shidou ryuusei #the title is from a childish gambino song 🤗#mivyts

240 notes · View notes

rinrinx2 · 1 year

Note

imagine a bonten rin x best friend reader where they had to stay in a safe house for awhile just the two of them, and since rins getting no hoes cause they can’t leave, the sexual tension is high😼

Day 13

Rindou x reader

Warnings: Smut, inappropriate language, Mature themes, language, dom/sub, dub con

Day 12

Rindou sat on the couch was as the clock on the far end of the room ticked away, second by second.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.....

"I'm going crazy" Rindou whispered to himself, hands running through his hair for the 15th time in the last thirty minutes, as he sat in nothing but some sweat pants that was long over due a wash.

You in no better condition than Rindou as you sat in your shared room starring at the ceiling waiting for something to happen anything.

It was only your 12th day at the safe house, after a failed assassination to a rival gang, Rindou and your names were on the lips of nearly every Yakuza boss leaving Mikey no choice but to keep you in the safe house until the threats surrounding the two of you had calmed down.

But at this point you would rather be fighting for your life outside than spending another second in this safe house.

You and Rindou were on mutual bases, you were neither friends nor enemies, simply just two people who happened to be in the same gang.

But slowly and surely you began to get irritated with Rindou. The way he'd chew loudly on his morning cereal, how he walked around shirtless after a workout with the sweat gleaming down his defined body, the way he'd sleep nude with his semi-hard cock brushing against your ass, it was all driving you half insane.

And just as you were irritated at the younger Haitani, he was just as annoyed by your behavior, the way you wanted to have everything organized all the time, the way you constantly who those short skirts that caused him to see your sheer panties everytime you bent down, how you left the bathroom door wide open while you showered giving him full view of you naked body covered in soap as your hands roamed all over your body. Your actions were so irritating that Rindou would even dream about it, causing him to wake up with the worst morning wood ever.

Day 13

You and Rindou sat at the kitchen table, quietly eating your respective breakfast. You eating a bland piece of toast with your morning water, trying to give your body whatever nutrients it needed to live through the day, while Rindou ate his cereal.

The cereal that he would chew loudly, hearing every crunch of each piece he bit into.

Crunch, crunch, crunch....

"Could you chew any louder" you said bitterly, looking at Rindou with a stare that could kill a man.

Rindou abruptly dropped his spoon in his bowl looking at you face painted with a scowl.

"You got a problem with my chewing?" Rindou said with a sarcastic tone, watching as you became even more annoyed.

"Yes, you chew like a fucking cow" you spat back with venom.

"Well you hump like leg like a bitch in heat while you sleep" Rindou said watching as your once cocky attitude slipped, your eyes now wide and you mouth slightly agape, clear shock on your face.

"Yeah I bet you didn't even know you grind your leaky little pussy all over my thighs, like a real fucking whore"

Rindou looked at you with a smile on his face, clear happiness at his victory over you. Gloating in his victory as you remained silent.

"What cat got your tongue?" Rindou mocked at you silence with a chuckle, as he brought his attention back to his cereal that you were commenting on mere seconds ago.

Just as Rindou was lifting his cereal filled spoon, a piece of hard toast came flying down at it, causing the contents of milk and cereal to spill all over the table as well as the sweat pants he had been marinating in for days.

And now you were the one smiling at your victory, watching as Rindou dropped looked down at the mess your actions had caused and then at you.

You didn't say a word watching as a pissed of Rindou starred back at you.

But quickly your mood changed as you watched Rindou stand from his chair, walking over to where you sat, standing right infront of your chair.

"Bend over the fucking table" Rindou said as his hand came around your neck.

You looked up at him with eyes of fear not knowing what to do, but at the tightening of hand around your neck you quickly stood up and did as he said.

You were now bend over the table with Rindou bending over your body as he whispered into your ear.

"You've been getting on my nerves alot lately" Rindou said, as he body against your.

"Every fucking day you wear these short fucking skirts" Rindou said as his hands one hand traveled up your thigh reaching for the hem of your skirt while the other remained around your throat.

"And every fucking day you shower with the door wide open" he said as you felt his fully erect cock pressing into your ass causing a soft moan to slip from his lips.

"Do you know what it does to a man. Of course you fucking do" he said with a snicker as his hand bunched up your skirt pushing the soft material up.

"And then you come with all this attitude, well you know what's going to happen now" Rindou said as your skirt was now pushed fully up, and his hand began to pull at the waist band of your panties.

"I'm gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours till your head fills with my cum and you start to act like a proper lady" he said gently licking your ear.

The sensation of Rindou's wet tongue licking at your ear caused tingles of pushing to shoot down your spine. And the way his hands pulled your pantie down was making your pussy leak out with juices that now stained the inside of your thighs.

"Come on (Y/N) say something, you had alot of fucking attitude earlier on" he said as his hands massaged your thighs feeling of wet they were.

"You not talking cause your pussy is the one that's going to be speaking for you?" Rindou asked with a laugh, as his hands moved up now sliding his thick digits along your puffy folds.

You bit your lip as you felt Rindou prod at your pussy hole that began to clench, as he continued playing with your pussy gathering your slick on his fingers, until he removed them bringing them to his lips.

"Taste so sweet" he said as he lapped the slick on his fingers off.

You heard as Rindou pulled down his sweat pants, feeling as his now unclothed cock was against the plush of your ass. His cockhead leaking pre-cum all over your ass.

"My dick is about to have a taste of that sweet pussy of yours" Rindou said as he aligned his cock to your pussy entrance, and in one swift motion he pushed himself inside you.

You groaned out as Rindous cock was long and girthy, ever so slightly poking at your cervix which only caused your pussy to tighten.

Rindou began to thrust into your pussy deep and slowly, hitting the soft spongy part deep inside your pussy that had your crying out for more.

"This fucking pussy had been calling out for me for days" Rindou said as his hips bucked against your ass, as moans slipped out between your lips.

"Rin please" you begged out not quite sure for what, but knowing you wanted to feel more of him.

Rindou let out a chuckle under his breath at your words and began to speed up his thrusts. He was now fucking into your pussy so fast that white foam was dripping out of your pussy and all over his dick.

Rindou felt as his balls contracted with each thrust, the cum inside them just aching to shoot out into your womb and fill you up.

The only sounds that could be heard in the kitchen was the loud squelching noises of Rindou fucking into your pussy, the lewd noises only making you more desperate to cum.

And you could feel it deep in your pussy, as the pressure began to build up, the urge to cum was getting stronger and stronger and Rindou could sense it by the way your walls kept getting tighter with each thrust.

"You wanna cum" Rindou growled out with a laugh at your desperate moans.

"Yes please" you begged as your hands clawd at the table.

"No fucking cum, make a mess on my cock" Rindou said slamming into you over and over as his hand came down pinching at your clit.

And finally the pressure in your tummy became to much as your walls contracted and you came, with clear liquid squirting out of you all over Rindou's cock and onto the kitchen floor.

"Yeah make a fucking mess" Rindou moaned out feeling at you released around him, soon Rindou felt as his balls ached and finally hot ropes of cum shot out of his slit coating your womb pearly white.

Rindou pushed his cock deeper in feeling as your pussy milked every drop of cum out of his cock.

"Fuck" Rindou said with a sigh as he lifted his body up from yours, gently pulling his cock out, watching as his cum dripped out of your pussy.

"Shit, weeks worth of cum dripping out" Rindou said with a soft laugh, his words causing you to laugh as well.

Carefully Rindou lifted your body up against his own, looking down at your exhausted figure in his arms.

You looked up at Rindou with eyes of wonderment as he began to speak.

"I'm gonna fuck the rest of my cum into your pussy later, so rest up"

418 notes · View notes

possessionisamyth · 9 months

Text

can’t read even 1/4 of the het ships in this tag because people put all the women into such tradwife roles it makes me want to vomit, so here are my headcanons when it comes to cooking abilities

Jill Valentine- Military rationing because it’s less time consuming. She cooks once and makes enough food to eat on for two weeks. She will eat that soup/beans&rice/chili for every other meal until she runs out. All her recipes are “throw everything in a pot and let it simmer overnight” style. Anything that has her sauteing, baking, or frying will get burned since she gets distracted doing other more important stuff.

Rebecca Chambers- Does not cook. Can not cook. Has not figured out how to cook. Take-out Queen. She can find a good restaurant or cafe in any area and this skill was honed on purpose. Hates long wait times for food though, so if she can she’ll send someone else to get her food/drinks.

Claire Redfield- Cooking level is tolerable as in she can follow easy recipes when there’s a video to watch, but may get an ingredient or measurement wrong and wonder why the dish tastes off. Anything more complicated than meatloaf or country fried steak is her nemesis.

Ada Wong- Fucking hates cooking. Can cook something decent with the littlest variety of ingredients, but hates it so much. She hates the mess during prep time, the mess during cooking, and the clean up afterwards. Hires a personal chef where she can or goes out to eat. (Before anyone disagrees saying she doesn’t trust strangers this much, consider she has a lot of money from her jobs and most people do not actually know who the fuck she is.)

Sherry Birkin- Substitution Queen. Loves to cook, and loves to experiment with food even more. If she starts cooking and finds she’s missing an ingredient, she’ll look at other recipes to see if she can replace it with something else. Will finish eating her food experiments or new recipe attempts even if they’re a little bland while constructing ideas on how to make it better next time.

Ashley Graham- Cooks college student food even into adulthood. Lactose intolerant but ignores it. Her mom couldn’t cook, and no longer having a personal chef left her in the wild to figure things out. She will put together any strange combination of food for the taste and calories. She mixes cereals together. She mixes plain yogurt into her ramen. She will lovingly add a slice of cheese on top of the most white looking piece of baked chicken before adding hot sauce and sandwiching it between 9-grain wheat bread for the sake of getting some kind of fiber in her body.

Ingrid Hunnigan- The planner. She can follow almost any recipe without too much difficulty, and always makes sure she has all the ingredients before she starts. She cannot improv or substitute ingredients to save her life.

Sheva Alomar- Teaches herself how to cook a new recipe or better a current recipe when she has the time. Has 5 go-to recipes she’s mastered which everyone loves, but no consistent recipe book. Will default to military rationing where she’ll make a big pot of something and eat on it for a few days until she gets bored of it and goes out to eat. Forgets about ingredients she purchased and only used a little of, and they go bad making her feel guilty.

Helena Harper- Frozen meals or box meals where she adds a “secret ingredient” into whatever she cooks. The secret ingredient is always cayenne pepper or bouillon powder.

Mia Winters- Can cook only the most white american food possible, but thankfully is not afraid of spices or spicy food. Hamburgers, steak, casseroles, tuna salad, and so on, she can manage pretty well. Any “foreign” food is lost on her. The first time Ethan brought home an avocado with plans to make guacamole, he caught her using a potato peeler on it.

Let me know if you’d like a similar list with the men of RE.

#resident evil #re #headcanons #might make that list of the men anyway #jill vallentine #rebecca chambers #claire redfield #ada wong #sherry birkin #sheva alomar #ingrid hunnigan #ashley graham #helena harper #mia winters

89 notes · View notes

bizzybkd · 1 year

Text

Cornbread (1)

Killmonger x pregnant!reader / part one

Warnings: None, just super fluffy, and in this AU, Erik’s father never left Wakanda but he did pass at the same time as in canon, Erik just grew up surrounded by the rest of his family instead

As you looked amongst your closet, the growing mound on your front told you that most of your clothing wouldn’t properly fit you anymore right now. Carrying your fiancé’s big headed baby boy had given you enough reason to buy larger sized clothing ahead of time. Of course, most of the clothes you wore were Erik’s, seeing as he was almost an entire foot taller than you.

You reached your hand inside and pulled out one of Erik’s Nike tech outfits, the much larger size telling you that as long as you didn’t spill anything on it, and your baby didn’t suddenly decide to come two weeks early and have your water break whilst sitting on the couch, Erik wouldn’t be upset once he saw you in it.

Said man had already taken his leave to go to work, a job you knew very little about but didn’t care to know much. You had your dream Cadillac in the garage and subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime, HBO Max, and Disney+ and more than enough good food in the kitchen. Whether it needed to be made or even just removed from the packaging, you couldn’t be happier with the selection. Erik always made sure you had your favorites, which at the time were goldfish crackers, plantain chips, ice cold water from your preferred refillable water bottle, and your soon-to-be Auntie-in-law’s homemade cornbread, which Erik would either take you to get personally from her in Wakanda or he would go get himself.

For a royal family that could have any chef they desired and any food they could ask for at their finger tips, Queen Mother making cornbread always seemed to brighten your mood no matter what.

As you looked in the fridge for your cornbread, you looked at the container the cornbread was in had been gone, and taking a quick glance at the sink, you knew exactly why.

‘You ate the last piece of cornbread?!’ You sent to your fiancé’s phone, fingertips typing ten words a second at how furious you were becoming. How dare he! Taking the last piece of cornbread he knew you loved and knew he wouldn’t have time to get for another few days due to work. How dare he taken something quick to eat in his late morning that you had wanted first!

After five minutes passed of you staring at the message sitting on “delivered”, it finally changed to “read 11:27am”.

‘…’

‘Babygirl, there was only one piece left.’ He replied, having deleted and retyped his message three times as the dots had told on him.

‘That was my last piece! Now there isn’t anymore and I want some! When can we get more?’

‘Maybe Thursday, (Y/n). I don’t know, I shouldn’t be talking right now, okay? I’ll get you your cornbread.’

You glared at the message and simply put a ‘thumbs up’ on it in reply, letting out a long groan of frustration before putting a hand over your belly, in your act of anger, you had forgotten to actually get something to eat. Getting up with a huff, you trudged to the kitchen with much less gumption that you had before. Pulling the box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cabinet and the oat milk from the fridge, you made yourself a quick bowl of cereal, leaving everything out by you as you knew you would want another few bowls.

An hour or so later, still saddened by the lack of cornbread as you munched on the bland tasting plantain chips you had beside you. The mediocre game show on screen made you cringe, it was obvious the contestants were guessing wrong on purpose to the easiest questions just to make the episode hit its target screen time. It annoyed you to no end, but seeing as you binged all your shows and wouldn’t dare taint your mind’s taste buds by risking a new show or movie, you settled.

Out of boredom, you decided to treat yourself, you were cornbread-less, patience-less, and had what the doctors assumed to be a seven to eight pound baby in your belly. Wakanda was only a short ten hour trip by flight, and practically 30 minutes if you could convince your cousin-in-law, Princess Shuri or King T’Challa to send a jet to your house.

You had always known about Erik, well, N’Jadaka, Erik simply being the name he took undercover when he came to America where he met you. You figured out pretty quickly he was the prince, shaving his beard, contacts and a switch from locs to a fade didn’t do as much disguising as he’d hoped, not from you anyway.

You kept his secret while you both attended MIT, as long as he promised to help you pass your physics and trigonometry courses. Aside from numbers and formulas, those weren’t the only things you were happy to take with you once you graduated.

Now having dated four years and being eight months pregnant, with a beautiful 4 carat engagement ring on your finger, and a very strong bond between your fiancé and his family, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for your pregnant self to call the princess and king if you needed something while Erik was at work.

Dialing Shuri’s kimono beads with your own she’s given you, it was almost immediately she answered, a large smile on her holographic face.

“(Y/n)!! It’s great to hear from you!! How are you and my nephew? Sleeping okay? Resting? Eating well?” She cried, the background of the hologram showing she must’ve been at work in her lab.

“Hello, Shuri, I’m doing very well thank you, M’Jabe too. Erik ate the last piece of Queen Mother’s cornbread this morning and I was hoping I’d be able to come get more? It’s really been the only thing keeping me—“

“Right away! I’ll speak with cousin later but for now you come here!!” Shuri interrupted, an interruption you couldn’t care less for as it meant you’d be getting what you wanted. “The jet will be there in ten minutes, shall you pack a bag and stay the night again?” She asked.

You’d stayed the night last month, having had phantom contractions that had easily convinced you that you were in labor. Seeing as it had been another four weeks since then, it was obvious you were wrong. Knowing you still had two weeks before your due date, you deemed yourself perfectly fine not to stay long, especially with how busy the royal family were already.

“No, Shuri, but thank you, I’ll stay again in a week or two since M’Jabe will be due then.” You assured her. She nodded solemnly but smiled. “That’s fine, but the next sleepover I’ll be meeting my nephew so I’ll be looking forward to that!”

You let out a laugh and nodded. You and Shuri continued to talk until the jet arrived, having put on a jacket to combat the nipping mid October weather and a pair of fuzzy slippers you loved. Okoye met you at the top of the stairs into the jet, giving you a smile as you walked in, lending you a hand up the steps as you used the other hand to hold your belly.

“Enkosi, General.” You smiled as she nodded and helped you to a seat.

“Of course, (Y/n), it’s good to see you’re doing well, I’d hoped you would with prince N’Jadaka.” She replied, earning a laugh from you and your son who kicked your kidney in agreement. God he wasn’t even born yet and he was heavy handed like his father.

The ride to Wakanda was short of course, and for good reason, you could only feel your drool escaping your lips as you nearer the great castle, as if smelling the cornbread being made already.

Erik called you after you landed and we’re being escorted inside.

“Why are you in Wakanda?” He asked almost immediately after you answered.

“I wanted my cornbread.” You replied matter-of-factly.

He let out an audible sigh. “You’re a trip..” he let out a soft chuckle before it turned into a light laugh. He loved your attitude, and his ability to tame it. “Don’t worry, Babygirl, I’ll be there soon. Tell Auntie and the other two I said hey.”

You smiled and walked along the long hallways with Okoye, her simply going about her duty alongside you. You couldn’t tell if she was just a master of not showing her opinions through her face, or if she truly tuned out your conversation. It didn’t really matter to you.

“Okay, baby, I’ll see you when you get here. And I forgive you for eating my cornbread.” You smiled, rubbing your belly gently.

He let out yet another laugh, but this one came from his gut, he truly found you amusing and that’s one of the things he truly loved about you. You loved his laugh as well.

“Thank you for forgiving me baby. I won’t touch your cornbread again.” He said in defeat, you could hear the smile in his voice and it made you blush. God, even after four years he could make you giggle like a school girl.

“Get here soon, me and M’Jabe miss you lots..” you admitted. Curse your pregnancy tongue.

Erik noticed the small difference in your tone, how sad you suddenly became at the thought of him being so far away. He hated doing that to you, no matter what his duties were. Of course, him working was to provide for the human you both created that was only days away from coming along. You and your baby were his priorities and everything else came second, so as much as he’d want to spend hours and hours tending to your pregnant form and giving you all the treatment you deserved, being able to stay with his family was the next best thing.

“How about you stay in Wakanda until my son comes along?” He asked you, knowing you had already discussed how you wanted to stay in the comfort in your own home until it was time. But you also knew that he was worried about that plan, what if you went into labor and he wasn’t home or couldn’t make it home, he’ll be damned before you had to take yourself to a rinky dunk hospital that charged almost 100k just for birthing the child and even just holding it afterwards, before the baby was born of course.

You went silent for a bit to think it over, you knew what he was worried about but also knew what you wanted. Being hormonal and pregnant, missing your fiancé who couldn’t be there for what you knew wouldn’t be another two hours, and in a castle you hadn’t spent more than a week at a time in, tears welled in your eyes.

You quickly wiped them away and did your best to hide the sudden spiral in your voice.

“How about we talk about that when you get here, baby, I don’t wanna make any decisions without looking each other in the face.” You said, mustering a smile.

Erik nodded, he knew that would make you feel better.

“Alright, baby, that sounds good. I’ll talk to you then, okay? I love you.” He finally said.

“I love you back..” you replied, hanging up the phone and letting soft tears fall as you made it to the thrown room.

Face to face was how you liked to handle things anyway. That how you got M’Jabe to be two weeks away to being in the world anyway.

Well… maybe not two weeks.

#killmonger fic #king killmonger #erik killmonger #black panther killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fluffy

175 notes · View notes

rowniebow · 1 year

Text

and they were roommates | peter parker x male!reader | 3/7

summary: microwave, pancakes, and a mother.

pairings: tasm!peter parker x male!reader

cw: death and cursing but idk does there really need to be a cw for cursing

word count: 2.9k+

an: i hope someone is liking this as much as i am haha...

previous ⭒ masterlist ⭒ next

⭒

"what is this?"

you glanced over your shoulder and the back of the couch to find peter sitting at the island of your shared kitchen staring at the television screen. you wondered when he got there and how you didn't notice him watching with you.

"a movie."

"what movie?" he rolled his eyes a bit at your response.

"forest gump," you shoved the popcorn you had made into your mouth. "you've never seen it?"

"no, why?"

"it's a classic!"

"aunt may and uncle ben weren't the biggest on family movie nights."

you shrugged a little, and patted the seat next to you on the couch. when he sat and made himself comfortable, you silently offered the popcorn to him, which he denied.

the last half of the movie that he had joined you for was enjoyed by the two of you in a comfortable silence.

when the movie finally ended, peter glared at the credits. "that was nice, i guess, but why is it a classic? it's no star wars or lord of the rings-" his eyes fell away from the scrolling words and onto your slouched body.

your body uncomfortably drooped over itself, your chin falling to your chest. peter almost winced from the pain it looked like your neck would be in if you stayed like that for much longer.

he, gentle and smooth as ever, slowly snuck the popcorn bowl from your hands and quietly sat it on the coffee table. he fetched a pillow and throw blanket from your room, propping the pillow on the arm of the couch. he gently pushed you over and onto the couch into a more comfortable fashion, hand on the side of your face to monitor how fast you fell onto the pillow. he laid the blanket out over your body, tucking you in and silencing the television before it could wake you.

he let out a heavy sigh when he watched you cuddle yourself into the couch-bed he had made you. he was practically sweating trying to make it all okay enough for you. he glared at the time, finding it to be awfully late, as per usual with him.

he tip-toed his way to his own bedroom, his sights lingering on you from his doorframe.

⭒⭒

peter awoke on a bright sunday morning to find you at the island, enjoying a bowl of extremely sugary cereal that he remember very vividly criticizing you for, even though it was his guilty pleasure cereal and he just so happened to be trying to eat better at that moment and was just mad that they stayed tempting him in the cupboard.

"these are so bad for you, y/n."

"you say that like i care."

"well- you should! your body is a vessel. everyone should take care of their body."

"if you're seriously trying to talk me into eating plain ass cheerios with you... some battles you have to fight on your own, peter, and your bland cereals is one of them."

"i'm not! i just think you should be more mindful of your cereals."

"you only live once, parker."

"you won't be living long at all with that big ass bowl."

today, peter thought, he'd join you in the short happy life club with your unhealthy cereal and got himself a bowl.

"oh, peter!"

"yes?" he spoke absentmindedly as he poured himself the cereal then milk groggily.

"i've been forgetting to tell you all week: i have to leave soon for a while. i'm not sure when i'll be back but i shouldn't be too long."

peter couldn't help but let his neck snap so he could look you in the eyes. neither of you had gone any where for an extended period of time since you two moved in.

"what? where are you going?"

"ah, my mom is sick in a hospital in jersey, so i'm gonna go be with her."

peter looked over your face, jaw nearly dropping at your unmoving features. "y-your mom is in the hospital? i'm sorry, are you okay?" his voice was weirdly soft, a caring part of him you hadn't seen before

you almost laughed at his words, "yeah, i'm fine, thanks."

peter thought over your actions for a moment. he quickly came to the realization that this was, yet another thing, that he didn't know anything about of his roommate of nearly seven months now. frankly, he didn't even know you had a mom. he assumed not since you told him you've been moved out since so young. did you have a dad, too?

"w-what is she sick with?"

you looked up at peter. seemingly shocked at his interest.

"she - well, she's had cancer for a year or two now. the doctors told me she's on her way out." peter looked at you and your features, at how nonchalant you were despite the gravity of this conversation. he looked as though he were studying you with wonder under a microscope. "i shouldn't be gone more than a week."

peter wanted to ask why you seemed to not care so badly.

you were tempted to tell him without him verbally asking (his expression really gave away his thoughts).

you only smiled, though, deciding to play oblivious.

and peter saw your smile, your genuine smile, and let his thoughts move along to the fact that you'd be gone for about a week.

you would be gone.

peter expected himself to be giddy at the thought of the apartment all to himself. he expected to have butterflies in his stomach out of excitement for you to be no where around for days straight.

he furrowed his eyebrows, however, when he felt his stomach swell with sickness at the thought. his chest became heavy and suddenly it was as though he was heaving to breathe.

you would be gone.

"are you already packed, then?"

"yes,"

"are you going to catch a cab to the airport?"

"yes,"

"do you want me to come with?"

"come with me to see my mother die?"

"sure! or just the cab ride, if you want?"

silence.

"for safety, of course."

"i think i can handle myself, pete. thanks, though."

peter's eyebrows were knitted together, creases clawed at his skin.

"are you-," you giggled to yourself a bit. "is peter parker going to miss me?"

"fuck no. i'm going to be living my dream while your gone!" lies.

"oh yeah?"

"for sure. i'm going to bring all my friends over and we'll party and make a mess on your bed." lies.

"really now?"

"absolutely." lies. lies lies!

"okay, i'm sure excited to hear about all zero of your friends hanging out and making a mess out of my bed when i get back."

you gathered your dishes and washed your bowl and spoon.

"i'll see you when i get back! have a good time with your zero friends!"

"yeah, whatever." he grumbled.

your footsteps disappeared down the small entrance hallway and out of the door along with your voice wishing one last goodbye.

peter looked around the now empty and silent apartment.

the time was two twenty-three, mid afternoon. he had woken up a lot later than usual, a lot later than you and he could tell.

the apartment was practically spotless. dishes, done and put away (other than the bowl and spoon you used). floor, swept and vacuumed. couch, fluffed pillows and peter's favorite throw blanket sat along the back. coffee table, wiped down and television remotes sat symmetrical with the sides. the microwave, still dirty but he was well aware of the silent protest you two had over it so he never considered that.

you went through the effort of cleaning the apartment so it would be nice for him while he was gone.

peter finally groaned into the silence. it had been less than a minute and it was already unbearable.

and that pissed him off.

he couldn't go one minute without you here in the apartment. jesus christ. he made his way to his room, ready to angrily blast his comfort playlist, abandoning his forgotten bowl of sugar on the counter.

⭒⭒⭒

throughout the week you were gone, peter was angry.

he found himself yelling into his mattress when he found himself craving the song you always play on repeat. he found himself yelling even more when he couldn't remember the name of it, and he was not about to text you to ask.

he found himself sitting at the island alone, grimacing at the taste of his pancakes because they were so bad compared to yours. he didn't know what he did wrong to make them so bad, he used the exact same two dollar box mix that you did.

he found himself sneaking into your room to light the candle that you always had going, that was very against the rules your landlord set for your apartment and peter always scolded you about but you never listened. ("parker if you think that man gives a shit about anything other than our rent you are insane,").

he found himself rewatching movies he had never seen before living with you. forest gump, wizard of oz, home alone. you judged him a lot for not seeing these before. you even watched some of the horror films, despite not liking horror, just because they were your favorite.

and peter? man, peter was mad. the thought never left his mind: why does he want you home so bad? were you truly that big of an improvement in his life?

maybe peter was just sad that he had to be alone. oh, but he never really had problems being alone before.

he wanted to scream! he missed you. horribly.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the seventh day of your absence, peter had grown worried.

you said not more than a week, hadn't you?

are you for sure going to be back today then?

did something happen?

should he check the news?

were you okay?

his eyes were glued to the news on the television for hours. his lips were gnawed raw.

he, honestly, hadn't even realized you were consuming his thoughts. he went about his day as if this new found obsession was a daily occurrence for him.

in some ways, perhaps it was.

the way you sat on his shoulder in the grocery store, imaginary nagging running through his mind as he sorted through the ice cream flavors.

the way you always seemed to be haunting him in the pictures he captured for work. behind the building, on the power lines, sitting in that empty chair.

the way you cling to his back while he swung through the skies at night. were you going to be up waiting for him all night again (the answer is always yes.)? should he go home early? he knows you have a big day at work tomorrow.

peter didn't think anything of this, though. i mean, you were constantly around him. the two of you, even if it wasn't always positive, never ceased your conversations.

in the mornings rolling your eyes over breakfast.

in the afternoons on the weekends, struggling to deal with whatever rash temperature new york brought into your shitty run down apartment.

up late at night, struggling to watch a movie and instead pointing out annoyances within each other.

it's only natural that you were always in his mind.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

on the ninth day that you were gone, peter had made his decision.

after many hours of careful consideration and contemplation, he has decided to text you.

a small sentence. maybe two. nothing fancy.

nothing to show you at all what has been consuming him the last week.

"are you coming home soon?"

no, no! that's too... desperate, he thought.

"hey, did your trip get extended?"

ew! that 'hey' is too much, good lord.

"come back i need you to go to the store"

...no, that might be a bit too mean.

peter was practically pulling his hair out. why was he so nervous about a simple text, he'd never know. he let his phone fall next to his head, a loud groan pounding it's way through his lips.

he glared at the ceiling of his room, his bedroom door open as if he expected you to come in complaining any moment now.

after several moments of staring at the popcorn textured white sky, he shakily picked his phone back up.

"you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

his eyebrows were knitted together at his words. he wasn't happy with them, but he was satisfied.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket and lord have mercy on whoever was texting you right now. who could be bothering to interrupt your peace with your self in this one, small moment? a small moment that was meant for you and no one else? a small moment where you could let yourself be?

tears threatened your eyes in frustration as you breathed calming breaths. a shakey hand reached into your pocket, lines of vulgar thoughts running through your head.

peter parker: "you okay? thought it was only going to be a week?"

you nearly threw your phone out of fright. since when did peter text you? you two basically only had each other's information in case of emergency.

was this an emergency? you didn't think so.

you supposed it could have been. you did say a week. peter was probably thinking you had died in some tragedy because of your lack of contact.

your breath stopping nearly choked you.

peter was texting you? he was thinking about you? about when you'd be back?

no, certainly he just hasn't been cleaning or needs groceries. maybe he really did follow through with his threat and was trying to have people over.

what were you to say back, though?

"sorry, i meant to text you-"

no you didn't, don't lie! you didn't think he was giving a second thought about when you'd be back.

"i’m all good, thank you for asking!-"

no, no! thank you for asking? what kind of bullshit fake ass response is that.

"oh i'm great. mother died, see you soon."

you chuckled to yourself a bit at the thought of that one. you personally would laugh at the blatancy but you supposed most people wouldn't appreciate the sour attempt at a joke.

you tapped the phone on your head, attempting to knock a socially acceptable response out of it. a shaken breath concluded your thoughts, assuring yourself that whatever response given would be brushed over, anyway.

"my fault! i'll be home late tomorrow"

yeah, yeah, for sure. that's very cool, calm, and collected of you. very mature response. absolutely doesn't let anything on at all.

you escaped the broom closet you were hiding in. you left your small moment.

you left your one small moment of peace with your self. a small moment that was meant for you and no one else. a small moment that was meant for being alone, and was infiltrated by peter parker, all the way from new york.

and you weren't mad.

maybe even glad.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

it was extremely late when the door to your apartment creaked open (a new issue about the shit hole to try and solve).

peter had decided to stay home to greet you when the clock struck nine at night and you still weren't back yet. he and decided to refrain from his nightly endeavors.

so when the door creaked open after he had passed out on the couch to the sound of car alarms going off on the street below and light tapping against the window, his sensitive ears perked up and his dizzy body came with them.

he sat up alarmed and saw you immediately (thank god for the front door being a straight shot from the couch).

he saw your tired eyes and new creases between your brows.

he saw your chewed lips that were too similar to his own.

he saw your drenched clothes from the pouring rain and your wet hair.

he saw you as your whole and full self and wanted to run and scoop you up in his arms.

but he refrained, of course.

"h-hey!" he watched you struggle through the door with your small suitcase.

"hi, pete,"

"how was your trip?"

you laughed a bit. you would hardly consider that shit show a trip. "it was fine. did you have your friends over?"

peter saw your tired smile and couldn't help but smile too. "oh yeah, your room is totally trashed."

"great," your dropped everything in the small kitchen. a sigh escaping your lips as you rummaged through the fridge that was oddly full.

peter watched you pull out a box of left over pizza he had the day before... for breakfast.

he missed your pancakes a lot.

"how was your mom?"

"oh, she-you know. passed. that's why i was staying longer than i thought. her funeral was yesterday."

peter didn't understand you. how you were speaking so casually about the death of someone who you were close to - who he assumed you had been close to. but he wanted to understand.

you obviously weren't that close based off of your actions. maybe you were in shock, he thought.

"i’m-i’m sorry to hear that," he tensely watched you, anxiety dropping like a pit when you went to throw your pizza in the microwave.

"yeah- did you-?" you stared into the microwave. "did you clean the microwave?" your eyebrows were furrowed and your face was only accusatory. as if it upset you.

"yeah, i got tired of it." and hand shot up to scratch the hairline on his neck.

"oh, okay," you started the microwave and watched the seconds count down. peter went to say something but you spoke again.

"thanks,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

peter cleaned the entire apartment, and the microwave, for you as soon as you said you'd be home the next day.

⭒ next ⭒

215 notes · View notes