#speaking of which the final word count for this one is.... apparently a little over 3k this time. oh my god. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beatcroc · 1 month

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turns out i have to make an unnecessarily wordy thoughtspost about doombox too bc there is nothing about this character that isn't fucking ridiculous and also really funny and i'm kind of really obsessed with all of it. ordinarily i would just start firing but in this case I need to just. paste his bio and then go through it step by step because every phrase here is absurd when looking at how he's handled along with the other characters and the world as a whole. here we go

first sidenote: i should also add 'nonsensical' to the list of descriptors up there, because this is a fighting game and no doubt has the typical Bad Fighting Game Writing at play that doesn't really hold up when put under scrutiny as i'm about to, but understand that this is something i've come to love about the genre and its typically batshit lore, and it further enhances the experience for me. it's all utter nonsense and its my favorite shit ever.

the biggest thing to me that makes his entire shtick ridiculous is that he was explicitly made to be a weapon. like his express purpose is destruction and/or killing people, and he certainly has the disposition to be doing that. except that he is not doing that. he's out there playing Ball Game, evidently of his own volition.

i feel it is also important to highlight that he was not originally or intentionally a boombox; he just kinda lives in there. his own bio frames it as happenstance, but sonata's dlc skin lore** implies he isn't permanently stuck in there and can kinda just hop out and take control of whatever he wants whenever he wants. there is an entire goddamn tank just sitting there in the background of one of these stages. he is a weapon. there is heavy artillery readily available to him that he could be commanding if he wanted to, but he's not doing that either. he is still a boombox. i think he likes it in there. *there's an argument to be made that maybe he's not powerful enough to control something that large, or maybe just that switching hosts is really tiring or risky. im just saying though there's like a bajillion host devices better suited for A Fucking Weapon than a boombox, but he seems really committed to this for some reason. while im here btw it's fucking terrifying that he apparently can possess thing that are Not tech as well **as a side note from that the specific mention of her boomhammer is interesting. i don't think it's an intentional implication but i enjoy the idea he has an affinity for sound-based devices; i like to think the boombox left an impression on him with its being the initial thing he possessed and got used to

and then there is the berserking. the 'rampaging', as it is otherwise called. not exactly strange on its own given his temperament and designation, but strange for the way it's characterized as only a tendency. it's only that he's prone to rampaging. he rampages often, but not all the time. just often! what is he doing he is not rampaging? getting a custom trimmed jacket with his own logo emblazoned on it? like a nerd? and on the flipside, what exactly do these rampages even entail? because it's apparently not anything destructive or disruptive enough for anyone to care about stopping him under normal circumstances.

like how are you a giant angry "not exactly stable" weapon of a guy and everyone's like 'yeah that's fine. that's our doombox!' toxic's specific wording regarding his getting unfucked postgame is "back to his old raging self", which implies to me there's almost a certain fondness, or at least amusement, at his being like this. i know one of the core themes of lethal league is letting these oddball misfit dudes do their thing and freely be who they are, but like. is doombox sincerely just not a threat for that? like really? dice's interactions also sort of imply that his actually trying to kill someone is really out of the ordinary for him so truly like. db my man what ARE you doing out there. * re: toxic and dice's talking about him; i do also find it amusing that one of his defining traits is just being pissed off all the time. again, not surprising given his purpose/designation as a weapon, but funny in that it's like. how he's KNOWN; in the sense that it is immediately noticeable and a cause for concern for other characters to see he is Not angry. fuckin social barometer of a guy. local angry guy isn't angry, something's wrong.

the "reasons for playing in the league unknown" bit also strikes me as a little odd even though it REALLY shouldn't. i'm like 97% sure it's just written like that to make him seems mysterious and unpredictable and dangerous, but it's a weird thing to call attention to when you consider that...less than half of the other characters' reasons are known? raptor is there trying to get info on his dad, that one's well out there. dust & ashes i think have some kind of implied reason for being there as well but it of course isn't elaborated on, and grid is like trying to impress "the youth" and establish a profile or something. nitro seems like he might not actually be IN the league as an official competitor? it's just helpful for him to know how to ball for the situations he gets into with his investigations. everybody else's "reason" pretty much seems like they're just out there to have fun. and toxic says as much in the story mode intro! the game was developed for people to escape the monotonies of shine city! so to imply doombox has a separate, non-recreational reason for being here is weird. the easiest read on it for me is just that he was drawn to it cause it's intense and destructive but at the same time.... if all he wants is an excuse to wreck shit....why are you competing in a structured sports game with rules and shit my dude. you are a weapon. just go attack people. except that we've established that he doesnt really do that. so. once again. what IS he doing out here

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aside from the bio though, there's of course random little tidbits of characterization throughout the game itself and they are all also likewise ridiculous.

he refers to himself in third person, which is always an amusing choice for a character in general. it carries with it a certain sense of ego, an awareness of and and pride in one's presence and gravitas. this was mostly just surprising to me bc before i started looking at everything, i'd assumed he was more or less mindless and, yknow, robotic; without much personality/reason for being there beyond being the Biggest Baddest Best At Ball Game Guy doombox is already very imposing, so this is frankly a well-earned sense of pride for him to have.....but it still doubles back to being funny again because, as i've established above, he could stand to be a hell of a lot scarier! but he doesn't seem to notice or care that there are many readily-available options for becoming more powerful and/or establishing himself as unquestionable top dog. so instead he is a boombox. third-person is also often used for characters who are a little dumb, and i think this applies to doombox as well. he is a weapon, and clearly a brute-force-over-precision type of weapon at that, he doesnt need smarts. i think this is also sort of hinted at with his voice lines; where the other characters have some kind of snarky phrase or one-liner for their kill/score voice line, doombox just goes "bye-bye". Which is still appropriately Disrespectful, but it's also very, uh... simple. again i just think there are... more imposing things a guy like him could be saying there, but i guess he hasn't got anything more than fucking. bye-bye.

anyways the ego thing i think is well-echoed by his stupid fucking jacket. none of the other characters have their logo as part of their design and i'm pretty sure the rest of the symbols are just game abstractions and don't exist in-universe, but like. doombox is just going around wearing a jersey with his own damn face on it. ok. to be clear i love his jacket but it is literally so silly for him to have that. imagine being the guy having to custom-fit a fucking boombox. did db pay for it? how? we're getting into unproductive territory here but you could ask a million questions about that jacket and they all have hysterical implications. while im on the topic of designs i'd also like to say that while i don't count any of the other blaze redesigns as "canon" like actual events the characters went through between games [like raptor in particular would have already had to have the stitches since that's his backstory, it's just they weren't a design point before], doombox is in a weird spot since the first game's design for him was very specifically referencing its HUD in a meta way for his flavor and that was pretty much the entire extent of his flavor; while in blaze he and the HUD are very much separate distinct things with their own flavor. there's more to talk about here later but as it pertains to design what im saying is i think he just went out and found a better and cooler boombox to be in between games. and also got a funny jacket. *actually i have no idea if there's even a Timeline here. the gut vibe i had been running on was that blaze happens a couple years after the original, but looking at it now that doesn't seem right. does blaze Replace the timeline of the first game? are there even Events in the first game to count as a timeline? do they run concurrently?

alright anyway the last point here is the 3rd-person thing is even moreso interesting to me though bc i was under the assumption that 'doombox' was something akin to a codename he was given when other people saw this big fucking Thang rampaging through the streets. but seeing as 1. he's definitely aware of it, and 2. not even the damn scientists who made him knew he was in a boombox [as implied in his dlc skin lore], i'm led to believe he came up with the name himself. the fucking tape in his cassette player does just say 'doom' on it so i am choosing to believe that's either where he got the name, or that he put that on there himself.

MOVING on, another really good thing is that he does this

i just think it's funny he's continuing to use the thing as an actual boombox; i feel like that isn't something he necessarily Has to do. obviously he's susceptible to certain quirks and limitations of being a boombox re: mind control tape, but i don't think that means he has to play out its every function. i think he's doing that on purpose and i am filing it under "he likes it in there". hes listening to his jams.

also on a similar note,

this is also not important and i realize it's mostly just a quirky videogamey way to get around saying the robot kinda character is "asleep", but i do enjoy the implication that shine city's biggest terror is like out there running on 4 D-cells.

also i'm making this guy out to be a city street menace, and the vibe i had assumed for him before was like, a random encounter in the back alleys that you super do not want to run into; but his associated stage/hangout seems to be the desert/scrapyard? which i don't really have anything interesting to say to that, but it's definitely a different vibe for his character if he typically hangs out in more desolate areas.

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i think maybe the most baffling thing doombox has going on is the apparent "rivalry" with dice. this is also bizzare from dice's side of things. what the fuck does it even mean to be "rivals" with doombox? what are they competing for? what kind of things does dice get up to that doombox would even give a shit about in the first place, let alone to be considered a rival in? i mean, like, the league, probably, but why dice specifically, out of everyone? would doombox's league rival not just be whoever's the [second] strongest there? i believe dice when he says they're evenly-matched, but there isn't really anything that implies dice is of particularly high prestige within the league so it feels like he shouldn't hold much interest as a target. to be fair dice doesn't seem like the type that would care about prestige, but again, if he's not out there flaunting his shit or trying to claim he's the best or whatever, why does db care? this would be a lot easier to understand if it was a one-sided thing on doombox's part like okay maybe dice pissed him off one day and he's still mad about it. whatever. that's the vibe they go for in story mode, but then there's dice's dlc skin description, which seems to run entirely counter to that and has dice as the aggressor:

when deprived of his usual sense and restraint, dice's first thought is I Gotta Go Fuckin Kill Doombox? even if he's over it under normal circumstances, it's clear both of them have some deeper-rooted beef in this exchange. there is yet another layer to this in that doombox is, weirdly enough, not really shown to be the kind of guy that's interested in revenge. again, going back to his own dlc description, he- and i quote- "couldn't care less" about the guys who made him capturing him and chaining him up. his only interest there is breaking out and getting back to doing his thing. if you want to be really generous, you could also read this vibe from the story mode epilogue: doombox was not the one hunting down the safety league, that was nitro. doombox was simply, as stated before "back to his old raging self". both of these to say, he simply does not seem to give a shit about people who have directly wronged him and only wants to Do His Thing. so. once again. what the fuck is going on with dice that they both have lasting beef here. i truly cannot fathom what either of them did to be so mad specifically at eachother. this rivalry is something they reference a LOT too like it's a big deal in-universe, or something otherwise really important to portray. like

lore so strong you gotta put it on an achievement!!!!! really!!!!! and there are no details whatsoever about this????? * while i'm here i'd just like to say have more questions about dice than fucking anything else in this game. sadly there's practically nothing to intuit from the game about any of his situations so i don't have much for coherent thoughts to post on him, but my god. what the fuck, dice. this rivalry is arguably the single strangest thing doombox has going on but it doesn't even break top 5 weird things about dice.

anyways, the final section and MOST interesting thing to me in all this is that, coming out of the first game, i was really under the impression that doombox is just the arbitrary final boss monster you gotta kill; no real purpose or personality his own to speak of, and most importantly just synonymous with the game itself and its aesthetics re: mirroring the HUD design. he certainly still holds the role of big scary final boss monster in blaze too, but blaze 1. has him much more fleshed-out as his own Guy, and more importantly, 2. doesn't really consider him a Problem like your typical big angry final boss monster. or at least not moreso than anything else going on in the game. he's not a threat to be eliminated, he's respected as a character and as a competitor in the league; and more than that he just seems to be... liked? as in, liked by other people in-universe? and he's liked enough that they'll readily help him out so he can keep doing his thing? i do think latch fixed him up postgame mostly bc he felt bad about being the one responsible for getting db brainwashed in the first place but like. the game could have just as easily gone "and then doombox was defeated yay" and left it at that. instead, they seem to have a vested interest in keeping him around. most transparently this is likely just a "we can't get rid of any of the playable characters or else story mode would be noncanon", BUT the point of this post is trying to read cohesive narrative sense into places there probably isn't any, and my read here is that doombox is a sort of inadvertent guardian of the league. for 1, he does still very much embody a lot of what the game [both The Videogame and the league itself] is about, but more importantly i think his presence is just really good at keeping a lot of the more minor threats at bay. if you try to fuck with the league, you will eventually be squaring off with doombox, most likely having freshly pissed him off in the process, and i can't imagine that goes well for who or whatever is in that situation. there's probably not much that wants to stand up to him by himself, and there's even less that can challenge the league as a whole unit; he's really just a good guy to have on your side like in general when you are running an illegal sports operation. i think at Worst toxic might see him as the league's funny little mascot but realistically i think she has more respect for him than that. either way i don't think he's going to care and it doesn't affect him much regardless. for this, doombox simply gets to keep doing his thing, whatever the fuck that may be. there are certainly still forces beyond his control at play here [as demonstrated in story mode by the safety league], and when these come into play, the league in turn looks out for him and keeps him on top of his game. i'm not sure if he has the, uh.... kind of cognitive ability that he could be grateful for this, but if nothing else, we know he seems to enjoy playing in the league, so he probably at least recognizes that he's not going to meet a lot of resistance in it and/or that it's a good environment to keep doing as he pleases. i don't mean for this all to sound so transactional, but it's hard to say whether he has much charisma in-universe for people to want him around for more "legitimate" reasons. likewise, there's also still a lot up in the air on how like... sapient doombox actually is. whether he can have complex motivations about anything or if he has some concept of "having friends" or if he can experience emotions besides rage; i tend to lean to "no" on those because i am really trying my damndest not to woobify this guy, but ultimately i don't think it matters much; in the end, he and the league are still mutually beneficial for eachother, and they still enjoy having the other around. and i think that's pretty cool :)

#lethal league blaze #lethal league #doombox #babygirl i can write misplaced analysis about anythinggggg #also ik im making this post in 2024 but to be clear i've been playing this series since 2016 #i never talk about it much but it has always held a special place 4 me.#i come back to it briefly like semi-anually. it just happened to REALLY grab me this time around for whatever reason #and i got really obsessed w doombox. as it goes i suppose #speaking of which the final word count for this one is.... apparently a little over 3k this time. oh my god.#usually these character/game writeup things are like half that length. look i just think hes neat #as my friend said: ''He seems like he should be so self-explanatory but he just isn't''#and ''We learn just enough about Doombox to know we don't know fucking anything about Doombox''#boy id like to know. the things id do for literally any kind of external loredump for this game. auuggghhh

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diedoverahat · 5 months

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A Small Favor.

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part one!

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.

authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3

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It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.

The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.

You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.

It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.

You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.

In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.

Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.

You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.

Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.

You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.

“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.

"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.

Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."

You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.

Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.

You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.

"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.

Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.

Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.

You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.

Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.

Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.

You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.

Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.

Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.

"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"

Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."

His begging is music to your ears.

You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.

"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.

You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.

At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”

You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.

Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.

You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.

"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,

When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.

Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."

Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.

You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.

"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.

His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.

"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.

"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."

“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.

Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.

"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.

Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit

“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”

"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.

You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.

It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.

The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.

"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.

"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.

You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.

"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..

Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.

You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.

"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."

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i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz @mikeschmidtgf @lee-inthebox @sunny-deary @ncqari

extra taglist!

@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies

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satorusluver · 6 months

Text

Wanna Bet?

Satosugu x female reader

Minors DNI

Tags/Warnings: smut, threesome sort of, slight breast play, alcohol mention (they're sober tho), princess as a nickname because it's my weakness lol

Word count: 800 ish

A/N: Idek what this is, it was just a scene in my head that's been sitting in my drafts so *throws it at you and runs*

You stare down at the panting mess of your friend Satoru under you. He's sprawled out on the bed, white hair blending in with the pillowcase. His hands are gripping your thighs and his fingertips lightly dig into the soft flesh as you grind back and forth on him, the outer lips of your pussy sliding up and down the length of his hard dick. You've been doing this for a couple of minutes now, never working up the courage to actually put it in. It's clearly getting to Satoru, who looks like he'd be about ready to start begging if his pride would let him, which it won't. But now he's chewing on his lower lip almost hard enough to break the skin, and his icy blue eyes keep rolling back as he gently grinds up against you. The stimulation feels good, but never quite enough.

"I don't know what you're so afraid of, it's not like you're a virgin." You hear the deep voice of Suguru from behind you and feel his large hands ghost over the curve of your waist.

"I-I know...but look at him, he's huge," you stammer, looking to where the fat head of Satoru's cock is peeking out from between your pussy lips.

"He's no bigger than me," Suguru replies smugly, his hands still trailing up your waist until he cups your breasts, and although you can't see his face, you can hear the grin in his voice. "Don't tell me you're too much of a baby to sit on a dick?"

"If you keep talking shit, I'm not gonna let you fuck me after him," you hiss, your hips still slowly moving back and forth on Satoru's length, the friction against your clit causing you to stifle a moan as you try to sound firm.

"You're the one who got drunk the other night and admitted you've always wanted to know what both of our dicks felt like." As he speaks, the pads of Suguru's thumbs tease your nipples until they stiffen under his touch.

God, that was embarrassing of you. But really, who could blame you when you had two of the most attractive men you'd ever seen as your closest friends? It's honestly a miracle it took so many years for you to let your attraction to them slip.

"Well, you guys are the ones who said you wanted to actually let me do it!"

"We did. So why don't you go ahead and actually put it in?" Satoru finally speaks, bucking his hips impatiently. He's trying to keep his cool, but a hint of desperation is creeping into his usually cocky voice.

"He's right, haven't you tortured poor Toru enough? Come on, lift your hips a little. I'll help you since you apparently need it..."

You do as Suguru says, lifting your hips up, and you watch as his hand curls around the base of Satoru's dick so casually you're a little thrown off by it. The lack of any and all hesitation has you silently wondering if he'd done it before, but you don't have much time to think about it before Suguru is lining up the head of Satoru's cock with your entrance, gently moving it back and forth against your slit to get it wet enough to go in with ease.

"Go on then, princess. Or do you need me to hold your hand, too?" Suguru's making fun of you, but he actually does interlace the fingers of his free hand with yours, and his lips brush against your own affectionately.

You groan into Suguru's mouth the moment you finally sink down onto Satoru's cock, and you can feel his lips turn up in a smirk at the sound you make. You take in a sharp breath at the stinging feeling the stretch causes once you feel him bottom out. For a moment, you're silently cursing yourself for ever admitting you wanted to try this, but then your walls begin to adjust to his size and the pain begins to melt away until all that's left is the feeling of being deliciously and utterly full in a way you've never felt before.

"Fuck," Satoru curses, "she's so fuckin' tight."

"Yeahhh?" Suguru drawls, his voice somehow sounding even lower than usual. "You look like you're trying not to blow your load already," he chuckles. Well, at least you're not the only one he's poking fun at.

"I'll last longer than you," Satoru insists, although his teeth are gritted slightly as though he's already struggling with his self-control.

"You wanna bet? We got all night after all, don't we, princess?" You feel Suguru's hot breath just below your ear before he playfully nips at the sensitive skin there, and you brace yourself for what is about to be a very long night.

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lavandulawrites · 3 months

Text

Devilish creatures

Yandere Gojo Satoru x female reader

Masterlist

Word count: 2576

Warnings: Implied stalking, Gojo being as unsettling as always

You were a complete normal woman if you ignored the way you could see them. Since you had been a little girl you had been able to see those hellish creatures. You told your parents, but they didn’t believe. No one did. It got to the point where your parents took you to see a psychiatrist, which told you that it was nothing more than childish fantasies. Fantasies for a young child was normal, but you knew very well that what you saw were real and not fantasies. The only person who did believe you were your mother’s mother. She had always been eccentric. She told you that she has been seeing those creatures since she was a child. That did make you feel relieved, but it didn’t help the whispers from those around you.

You moved to Tokyo as soon as you graduated high school. You started studying in a prestigious university. You didn’t speak to your family much, but that was probably for the best. Those creatures never disappeared. In fact it seemed that there were much more of them in Tokyo. Around the campus there were always a swarm of them. They didn’t harm you (most of them were in fact really small) but they made you feel a sense of dread. Almost like they were draining your energy. Maybe they were. One night when you were walking home from your shift the small but cozy café, you came across a huge monstrous creature. It had rows upon rows of teeth and two bulging eyes pointed in each direction. It’s tongue black and long. It didn’t notice you, so you ran as fast as you could. After that incident you were reluctant to walk home alone at night. You always took the early shifts, which resulted in having less time to study. You would chose your life over your grades at any day, so you didn’t feel too bad about it.

One cold January day you called your grandmother. It had been a long time since you last talked and you really missed her. You told her about the monster-incident and she advised you to go to some place called Jujutsu High. You really hoped it wasn’t a scam or worse a cult, but you really didn’t have a choice. When it came to the monsters, you would take any solution.

The school was in a traditional Japanese style with impressive gardens. It really was beautiful. You headed to the building where the kind lady on the phone told you to. Apparently someone there could help you with your little problem. Even though you had your suspicions, you had to give it a try. You didn’t know what you would do if you didn’t.

You stepped inside the building and took a seat in what may seem like a waiting area of some sort. After you sat in silence contemplating if it was a wise decision to come or not for what felt like hours (it had actually only been 15 minutes) a tall white haired man walked by. He stopped in his tracks and looked at you with a slight smile. His eyes were covered with a black cloth resembling a blindfold. You could feel his intense stare underneath his blindfold. “Are you waiting for someone?” he tilted his head.

You nodded, your voice failing you in the presence of the handsome man.

“Do you happen to be [Last Name] [Name]?” he bent slightly forward. You nodded “Yeah”.

“I am sorry to inform you, but the person you had an appointment with have some urgent matters to attend to” his smile gentle.

Your expression fell “Oh… I see. Thanks for telling me”. You was just about to get up and leave when he stopped you by clearing his throat.

“I can help you. I assume you have a problem you need help with since you are here?” his grinned. You looked at him with wide eyes “You can help me?”. You were so relived, finally these sights would stop.

His grin widened “Of course I can help you darling”. The pet name rolling of his tongue with ease causing you to blush slightly. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“Follow me” he straightened his back. God he was tall. You followed after him unsure of what to expect. The corridors were dimly lit, giving of an eerie feeling. The tall man was walking with slow steps so you could keep up with his ridiculously long legs. He stopped in front of a room and ushered you inside. “You know, I am not really supposed to tell civilians this, but I will make an exception since you are so adorable” his grin similar to that of the Cheshire cat. It was slightly unsettling. You raised your brow slightly and took a seat in the chair he was gesturing to.

He slumped down on the chair opposite of you, stretching his legs out like a cat. “You are seeing things right? Seeing creatures that resemble those of hell” it wasn’t a question, but a statement. You nodded slowly.

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees and popped his head in his hands. You could tell he was scanning your expression. “Awww… You poor thing. I am sure that must frighten you so very much” he cooed at you like one would with a scared animal. “Luckily you have me to protect you”.

You twisted in your seat. There was something of about him, but you couldn’t put your finger one what exactly. “Yeah… They are quite frightening.” you smiled sheepishly.

He leaned back in his seat toying with his the black cloth covering his eyes. “Those so called creatures are called “curses”. You are one of the few people with the ability to see them.”

You blinked. Curses? You swallowed. Surely this was a joke right…? Sweat stared to collect at your temples.

The man chuckled at your reaction. “Where are you seeing the curses?”

“My university, around my neighbourhood and nowadays I’m seeing them in my flat” your hands slightly shaking. He hummed “I see. I will accompany you home to get rid of the curses. If you don’t mind of course”. His lips were twisted in a slightly smile, which you were unable to read. “I don’t mind at all” you shook your head. You would do anything to get rid of those so called curses. Absolutely anything.

He slapped his thighs and stood up with a swift motion. “Good. Very good indeed!” his smile still present. He stopped before the door and turned his head over his shoulder “I forgot to introduce myself. I am Gojo Satoru”.

The drive to your flat had been in silence. You had felt Gojo’s gaze at you the whole ride. “Please excuse my mess” you sheepishly smiled as you dumped some dishes into the sink. Gojo laughed telling you that he didn’t mind. He glanced around your apartment before he turned to you.

“It will only take a moment” he flashed you a smile. You stepped back unsure of what to expect. He had explained you briefly what cursed techniques and the like were while you made your way up the many stairs to your flat. You understood it somewhat. With a gesture of his fingered the small curses that were sweeping up underneath your sofa and bookshelf disintegrated. Your jaw fell slack in shock. You didn’t know what you expected, but this was certainly not it.

Gojo chuckled amused. “Impressed? This was mere child’s play” he smiled cockily, clearly happy with your reaction. “Are they gone gone now?”. “They are completely gone now” he nodded.

“Thank you so much!” you bowed. He had told you earlier that it wouldn’t cost you anything. A special discount for a special girl as he said. He had however suggested going out for a coffee with him. Which you agreed to, much to his delight.

“Your flat is safe from curses, though I can’t exactly say the same for you neighbourhood” his voice laced with concern. You felt like you were deflating. You had nowhere to stay besides your flat.

He brought his fingers to his chin and was silent for a moment. “What if…” his voice absentminded. “What if you stay at my place for the time being? I remember you said you were tight on money and hotels are quite expensive nowadays. I have a spare bedroom and it’s not too far away from here, but far enough for it to be safe”. You thought for a moment. Was it okay for you to sleep at his place? He was a total stranger after all and besides you didn’t want to bother him, but he had been nothing but kind. As if noticing your hesitation, he spoke up “I can promise you it won’t be a bother” he smiled warmly. You thought for a second. You really didn’t have any other options. “Okay. Thank you. I really appreciate it”.

His smile twisted into a grin. “The pleasure is all mine” his words smooth like honey.

His flat was huge and well decorated in a elegant way, not like quite what you had expected. Long windows going down to the floor overlooked the bustling streets of Tokyo.

He laughed softly at your awe. “Feel yourself at home”. He had replaced his blindfold with black rimmed glasses that he pulled down his nose to wink at you. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen. They were of an ice blue colour mixed with turquoise. He pushed his glasses back up and hummed at your reaction.

The hours flew by as you talked about all and nothing over takeaway sushi from a high end restaurant. He really was easy to talk to. His witty remarks making you laugh. He was quite flirty too, but not overbearingly so.

Soon it was well over midnight and your eyelids getting heavy. “Ooo someone’s sleepy” he laughed. You nodded “Yeah. I had to wake up early”. He stood up “I will make your room ready. One moment please”.

You tried to fight the sleepiness when something poking out underneath one of the coffee table book. You leaned forward to get a better look at the somewhat familiar flyer. You pulled it out carefully and brought it underneath the light of the lamp standing by the sofa. It was a flyer of your university. Weird… From your impression of Gojo you didn’t think he was studying. He did tell you that he worked as a teacher at Jujutsu High. An eerie feeling crept over you. It was probably just a coincidence, right? It had to be, there were no other explanations… You went over your conversations. He was really observant with you, but maybe he was one of the more observant types.

Then it struck you. You never did mention which university you were attending. You only gave him your address when he drove you both to your flat to ride it off the curses.

You quickly put the flyer back in place and straightened your back.

“Your room is ready” Gojo’s head was peaking out of the hallway. With shaky hands you turned around to face him. Your hands gripping the cushions of the sofa to ground your racing mind. You had to come up with an excuse and that quick. A notification followed by a curse broke the uncomfortable silence. You snapped your head towards Gojo. He was staring at his phone with furrowed brows.

“You should see yourself lucky that you are staying here” he walked over to you still starting his phone. “Multiple curses have gotten out of control attacking civilians. It’s not safe out now”. His icy eyes meeting yours. His glasses nowhere to be found. His expression changed to worry as he scanned your face. “What is it?” he tilted his head slightly.

You swallowed as you fidgeted with your fingers. You couldn’t go back to your flat now, it would be to dangerous and besides you couldn’t confirm that it was something up with Gojo. You had always had the habit of being untrusting with people. After all he had been nothing but kind and welcoming. “Nothing” you shook your head with a slight smile. “I am just tired”.

The bed was really fit for a king. It was the most comfortable sleep you had ever gotten. Your eyes creaked open as rays of sunlight bathed the room in a soft yellow glow. The smell of pancakes filling your nose.

Gojo was standing by the oven flipping pancakes while humming a tune that was playing on the speakers. I Only Have Eyes for You by The Flamingos. He turned around with a smile. His eyes shining bright with an unreadable expression. “Good morning [Name]. Did you sleep well?” his voice melodic and his smile dashing. He really was beautiful, but you couldn’t help but be cautious.

“I did. Thank you for letting me spend the night here”. With a smile he told it was nothing and he was glad he could help you out. He served the pancakes with a hum and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel. His gaze tender.

He took a seat opposite of you and his expression changed. “I got a message from some of the other Jujutsu sorcerers” he lifted his fork and knife and cut into his pancake. “There were quite the casualties last night. They are still looking for those who went missing. They haven’t been able to locate all the bodies” his hand stilled and he looked at you, eyes unblinking.

“Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you understand why I suggested you to spend the night? One can never be too careful” his voice stern. You only nodded. You looked at your plate. Your appetite was lost. You were lucky for not being one of those poor people that were mauled by the curses. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want you to be aware of the dangers of this world” his voice sincere.” You nodded understandingly. He was a good man after all and you were in his debt.

As you eat your breakfast after encouragement from Satoru, he watched you with a smile. You were really naive to be stepping right into the lion’s den.

He had “met”you at a café. You were hanging out with your friends seemingly oblivious to how they ignored your presence in favour of planning some kind of party. He had felt sorry for you as you stirred your tea while trying to get the attention of your “friends”.

He had become quickly smitten by you. It truly was love at first sight. You were such a stunning woman after all. No one could compare to your beauty. He felt the intense need to protect you so he decided to watch over you as a gentleman should do.

He spent weeks watching you as you left for your job, as you studied in the library at your university and watching you through the eyes of the teddy bear you thought were a present from your friend. You were like a little lost lamb in a world full of flesh eating monsters. You needed to be protected and who could be better at that than Satoru?

Unbeknownst to you he was the most dangerous of all the devilish creatures.

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tastesousweet · 1 month

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

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bookshelf-dust · 1 year

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,344

warnings: swearing, smoking, reader is lonely, descriptions of billy’s abuse, mentions of neil

a/n: hi! so i decided to challenge myself with this. i’m making this a multi-part story. i’ve never done anything like this before, but so far i’m enjoying it. i’m not entirely sure where we’re headed, but i’ve got a sort of outline in my head. i’ve also decided to try something else new, and i’ve picked out some songs that you can listen to before you read to get you in the mood—but only if you want of course. this is all a really new experience for me but i have put a lot of heart into this first part. i hope that you enjoy this, really i do. also the title is from a part of hop’s letter to el. <333

before you read, listen to: wheel in the sky by journey and/or (don’t fear) the reaper by blue oyster cult

————

Sitting cross-legged on your bed, you turn the page of the book in front of you, the sound of the paper flipping an audible one.

You lift the hardback, tuck your nose into the center of the pages and give it a sniff. It might be odd to do so, yes, but to you, books are the best smelling thing in the world.

You put it back down, go back to reading.

A knock breaks you out of your fantasy literature-induced stupor.

“Honey? Okay for me to come in?” Your mother’s voice, soft and sweet.

“Sure.” Your voice is quiet when you speak, though just loud enough for her to hear.

Your bedroom door opens enough for your mother to stand just inside, her back against the frame, one hand gently resting on the knob.

You reach for your bookmark, drape it over one side of the pages and then close it.

“Hey, kiddo.” Her smile is easy. You try your best to give her one of your own, but you know it falls short.

“Wendy and I are going out to dinner tonight and then to an art show.”

Wendy was your mother’s longtime best friend, and quite the riot.

“Apparently her new girlfriend is something of an artist.” She gives a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. “Do you think you’d like to tag along?”

You uncross your legs and stretch them out: contemplating. Then you do the same to your back, which makes an obscene crackling noise—enough to make the both of you grimace.

You know how you’ll feel if you go out with your mother and her friend.

You’ll be okay for the first little while, but then there will be too many people. You’ll get nervous. You will probably say something wrong and feel the need to shut down. You will shut down. Your hands will get shaky and you’ll get upset, and by the end of the night you’ll wish you hadn’t gone at all.

You know how you’ll feel if you stay home, too.

You’ll be fine, totally fine, having avoided everything you’d face in the other situation. But you’d be guilty. Guilty because you’re young and you won’t be going out to do whatever or making friends. You’ll feel like you’re failing your mom, who just wants you to experience things.

You decide that leaving your house shouldn’t require this much stress.

“No, I don’t think so,” you finally say. “But thank you for offering.”

You watch your mother as she moves further inside your room, settling on the edge of your bed.

“Are you sure?” She sets her hands on your knees, tapping her fingers, many a ring glinting in the overhead light of your room.

“We could get frozen yogurt. You know, I really think you’ve turned Wendy into a monster after we went last time. It’s all she talks about now.”

That gets a small smile out of you, but brings an ache to your chest.

“I’m sure. Don’t get too crazy, tonight, though. And be sure to let me know about her new partner.”

“Alright. Hug or no? What’s the affectionate meter at right now?”

“A hug is fine,” you say through a quiet laugh.

She wraps her arms carefully around your shoulders, allowing you to squeeze first, that way she can gauge what you need.

“I’ll leave some money out so you can order pizza, okay?” You nod. “Also there’s a pint of the ice cream you like in the freezer.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my little honeybee.” With a final pat of your knee and a wink sent in the direction of your book, your mother sweeps out of the room, and a little while later she is out the door.

Alone in the house, you let out an exhale, before heading to the kitchen.

Opening the designated take-out-menu-drawer, you scrounge for the one belonging to a local pizza place. You go ahead and order now, knowing that it might take awhile since the place is in downtown Hawkins.

You realize, setting the phone down, that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you’ve got the chance to do whatever you please.

You retrieve your book to read on the couch until your dinner arrives, not only for a change of scenery, but because you’ll need to be out in the living room to watch an episode of your favorite show in a while anyhow.

You’ve only sat momentarily when you hear it. Hear him. When you hear his music, specifically.

Billy Hargrove lives a few doors down from you, just close enough that you can always hear when he comes home, music blaring—not that differently from the volume you play it at when alone in your car—and doors slamming.

You don’t know him personally, only from school. Only as this pretty boy who’s been in Hawkins a few months.

You know enough that you hate the way people at school look at him. Like he’s an object. Like he’s this foreign being just because he came all the way from sunny California. The way they talk about him. About his ass, or his car, or his little redhead sister.

You know he’s pretty. You’d never deny that. But he’s just like the rest of you, and it bothers you that people treat him—at least from what you’ve seen—like this all-powerful dude.

But you also know enough that you think maybe he doesn’t have the best home life, just from what you’ve seen when you’re not out—which is always.

Sometimes you see him walking up and down the street at various times during the day. Or you hear his car speed off.

Sometimes, though really only sometimes, you see him trailing his sister while she skateboards, either talking or sitting while she goes.

To you, he seems like a loner.

And maybe it’s because you’re one too that you see him that way. That you can see him that way.

————

Outside, Billy cups his hand around his cigarette. It’s seemingly out of habit, since it’s not windy out. His thumb slides along the spark wheel of his lighter once, twice before the flame catches. The tip glows red in the night.

He walks a little further, as he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and soaking it in. He kicks a rock, hard, trying to see if it’ll hit the post of the mailbox a few feet ahead of him.

He watches a pizza delivery car ride by and pull into a driveway. He hasn’t made it very far on his walk. The walk he wouldn’t be taking because it’s pretty damn cold outside.

But Neil Hargrove wasn’t aware that Max Mayfield had joined the Hawkins AV Club, and when there was no Max at home, he took it out on Billy, telling him he was an irresponsible waste of space.

It took Susan getting home with her daughter and explaining the situation for Neil to calm down.

But Billy’s back was aching from where he’d been slammed up against a doorframe, and frankly he wanted nothing more than to get out of the house.

So here he was.

A porch light flicked on as if whoever was inside had been waiting on that pizza. You had been—sitting on the couch and listening for car sounds.

When the delivery guy rings the doorbell you appear, and Billy realizes he knows you. That he goes to school with you. You’re very quiet. He also thinks your very pretty, and he’s never noticed that before.

You look very comfortable; all of your clothes seem to be too big. With the way the yellow outside light hits you, it gives your face a multitude of shadows. Billy thinks about some of the greek statues he learned about in a history class back when he lived in California. About how artists tended to sculpt women with real bodies.

Shit, he thinks. He’s probably staring at you. But you really are very pretty.

On the stoop, you take the pizza and set it on the table just inside the door and then hand the guy his money.

You decide not to be a dick and make sure that he gets out okay. When he backs out, you catch a flash of red out of the corner of your eye.

You wouldn’t be able to see him if it weren’t for the street lights. Billy is looking at you. You smile at him, and to your surprise, he smiles back.

“You okay?” You ask, hoping that your voice carries to him, because you don’t feel like shouting.

You watch him shrug and take another drag of his cigarette. The fingers on his free hand fidget with the ring he’s wearing, and you pretend not to notice.

“You?” He questions in return. Something about the sound of his voice makes you feel warm inside.

You shrug back, and he lets out a breath of a laugh, before you turn around to go inside and he continues with his walk.

You kick the door shut and lock it behind you, thinking about Billy.

That is the most extensive conversation you’ve ever had with him, aside from one a few days after he started at Hawkins High, when he didn’t know where the auditorium was, so you walked him the whole way there. You were pretty sure he’d been embarrassed to have to ask for help, but you hadn’t been bothered at all.

In fact, that exchange outside was the most conversation you’d had with anyone outside of your mother in a while.

Most days you didn’t say a word at school, keeping to yourself, trying to get homework done any chance you could so that it didn’t actually become homework. Sometimes you had to speak with a teacher though, and of course you said thank you when someone held a door—but that was it.

Quite frankly you didn’t know what to think. Part of you hoped you’d see him again. That you’d make a friend.

You hadn’t had a friend in a very long time.

————

When your mother returns home, it is with many beans to spill.

Wendy’s new partner, who you found out was named Stephanie, was, in your mother’s words, “Hot enough to go gay for.”

Your mother had also undoubtedly had some to drink while out and about.

“Also that boy from down the street? Don’t you go to school with him?”

You start fussing with a string on your sleeve. “Yeah, why?”

“Well he was brooding on his porch when Wendy retrieved me, and he’s still wandering around outside. It’s been,” she checked her watch, “three hours.”

You scratch at your nose, thinking.

“I saw him when the pizza got here.”

Your mother hums. “Well, I’m going to go shower the art gallery off of me and then probably stay up too late reading.”

“Okay.”

She smiles sweetly at you, collecting the pile of rings and other jewelry that she’d taken off and set on the counter while talking to you, and then you’re alone again.

You flatten your body over the countertop, bending at the waist and stretching so that your fingers can grip the other side.

You think about Billy out there. He was obviously going through something. And maybe it isn’t any of your business, but you hate the idea of him being alone, wallowing in self-pity. Not that you have any room to talk.

You straighten, walking carefully so as to not allow your socked feet to slip along the floor, and find yourself reaching for your coat.

Shoving your feet into a pair of shoes, you flip on the porch light once again, and make your way outside.

Across the street, Billy is resting against a low wall that has a mailbox set into it.

Looking both ways out of habit, you make your way towards him, stopping a few feet away. He looks up at you, both hands on the brick underneath him. There is a half-finished cigarette in one of his hands. You find yourself wondering how much he’d smoked since he’d been out here.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He quirks a brow at you.

“You’ve been out here a long time, you know that?”

Billy glances at his watch. “Seems so.”

“Not cold?”

“‘M fucking freezing my ass off out here.”

You try and choose your words carefully, not wanting to push too hard. “Seems like you could solve that problem if you went inside.”

“Are you worried about me or something, Y/N?”

Trying not to think about the way your name sounded leaving his mouth, you admit to your crimes.

“Yeah, actually. You were out here earlier, and my mom said she saw you when she left and when she got home. I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

Something in Billy’s face softens. “Yeah?”

You exhale, your breath leaving a plume of air in front of you.

“Yeah.”

“Well then I guess I better get my ass inside, huh?”

You stuff your hands into your pockets and realize what you’ve got in there.

“Here.” You pull out a little hand warmer packet an hold it out to him.

Billy laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, you think. Charming and hearty. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

————

At school Monday, you make your way to the lunch table you’ve claimed, grass squishing under your feet.

You flip open your book, shove one leg under you.

It’s only been a little while of munching on grapes and forcing yourself to concentrate before you feel a weight drop onto the bench across from you, shifting the old table a little.

You look up. Billy Hargrove looks back.

He throws his bag on the worn wood, slaps a book of his own on top of that.

You’re confused at his appearance, and he seems to sense that.

“I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

You feel yourself heat up, and sit on one of your hands because you also feel like you could cry.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove comfort #billy stranger things #stranger things fic #billy stranger things fic #billy hargrove x f!reader #savannah’s fics

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wowzah2nd · 2 months

Text

A Not So Secret Relationship

Severus Snape x reader

Word count: 2k

after years of a not so secret relationship a student catches then sharing a loving kiss. Which cause rumours to spiral around the school, whats going on with professor Snape and professor L/N?

You had been working at hogwarts since you were 20 which was the youngest the school had seen to teach muggle studies since you were muggleborn. 2 years later your dear friend severus snape joined you to teach as well but was offered potion professor and not defence against the dark arts professor. Even though you were very different, you being a gryffindor and him being a slytherin you got along very well. You actually didn’t become friends till both your last years at Hogwarts. You always saw him alone or being bullied by the same gryffindor as James Potter, Sirius black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew also called the marauders and one day you decided to stand up for him seeing how cruel it was.

Flashback

It was a normal day at Hogwarts. You were walking around the hall when you heard a commotion coming from around the corner. You'd decided to take a peak and see what was happening and you could see the marauders bullying someone and hanging him upside down. As soon as you saw that you made a run for it towards James who was the one casting the spell as you went near him you pushed him to lose focus luckily the boy wasn’t too high up when he fell.

Y/N: what is wrong with you lot doing that to someone that is just cruel and mean

James: well he deserved it y/n you know what he called lilly, he called her a mudblood

I paused for a second looking between them the boy was no sat against the wall but i still thought what he did was cruel

Y/N: still doesn't give you the right to treat someone so cruelly, if he did say something like then your the one that's supposed to be better and not do things so idiotic you head boy after all lead my example

The group stared at me in surprised that i would defend a slytherin

James: come on boy let's get out of here

Before they were fully out of ear shot i heard them call me a traitor to my house but i didn't care no one deserved such cruel treatment

As soon as I couldn't see them I turned to the boy that got bullied. He was a little hurt getting a scratch on his head from being dropped. Which was my fault, maybe I should have made me put him down slowly instead of pushing him. I crouched down to his level grabbing my handkerchief from my school bag to wipe the little blood on his head

As i was wiping his head he decided to finally speak

Boy: their telling the truth you know

Y/N:I know

He finally looked at me and look surprised

Boy: then why did you help me aren’t you a muggleborn too

I gave out a long sigh

Y/N: I am, but no one ever deserves to be treated less than anything human also how did you know i was a muggleborn

Boy: i was friends with lily before i called that name and she mentioned you a couple times

Y/N: oh did she now i didn’t really think we were friends we barely talk

Boy: yeah she talks about how smart and nice you were apparently you helped her out a few time and she felt grateful for. You are really nice by the way

I giggle at his comment it seemed he was shy when saying it

Y/N: well thank you…

Severus: snape, Severus Snape

Y/N: well snape, can i call you severus instead

Severus: only my friends call me that

I gave him a big smile

Y/N: well wanna be friends then

It took awhile to get him to agree to being friends but it was a great friendship even if people thought it was weird me being friends with him but i never let it bother me and over time i started to develop feelings for him but never got to tell him at school

Flashback ended

It had been 2 years since I graduated and I had become a muggle studies teacher here after Dumbledore gave me the offer and I gladly accepted . another year passed when a new teacher can when i found out it was severus when i saw him in the staff room i ran to him and gave him a big hug.

He was a bit taken aback from the hug and luckily no one else was in the staff room to see

Y/N: i miss you so much severus why did you ever write me

I started to let out all my suppressed emotions that i didn’t realise i was holding in. he let out a sigh before speaking

Severus: I had my reasons that i can’t tell you just yet but i will say that i have missed you too and i was actually scared yo see you

Y/N: why were you scared to see me

Severus: well that because… i wanted to confess something to you..

I was looking hopeful at him now had he been feeling the same way about me like i have about him

Severus: i have liked you for so long and every day that ive thought about you that feeling has grown and developed into love. Even though its been years since i last saw you i finally realised that i love you and wanna be with you. So if youd allows me can i take you in a date

I immediately jumped him and gave him a bear crushing hug

Y/N: of course severus you can and i love you too i loved you every since we started to be friends

He gave out a sigh of relief at my answer

Severus: you have no idea how happy i am right now

Ever since that day you have started to date everyone knew but ever brought it up since it wasn’t their business but what they saw warmed their heart. Seeing the one cold and withdrawn severus actually turn happy when you walked into a room or were in the area. But of course he still tried to hid that side of it since they thought only you deserved to see that side of him but he could not always hide it. Few years later after dating you'd gotten married it was a big ceremony it was a small one of just you and him just how you always wanted

And that now brings us to the year 1993 10 years after being married you still loved teaching at that school mainly because you also wanted to be close to Severus and he never complained. But only complained about harry potter it was the boys third year and as alway severus did really like him since he was a reminder of his youth and i would never blame him

Y/N: hello severus how are you this morning my love

I made my way into in classroom due to not seeing him during breakfast

Severus: not so good if im honest

I placed down a small plate of food he can eat since i know he didnt grab anything before heading back to the classroom

Y/N: and why is that love

Severus: well it’s because i'm teaching potters class

I let out a sigh

Y/N: you know he’s not his father right so please cut the boy a little bit of slack and the rest of the kids they have me later in the day and they still complain

Severus: i know his not his father but he remind me so much like him

Y/N: he won’t be like him the school will teach him better

Severus let out a sigh before grabbing my hand to say come sit with me, so i sit on his lap as we continue our conversation

Severus: your right, but i still won’t go easy on him or the student they need to learn one wrong move they’ll all end up like mister finnigan

I giggle at all the memories i had over the years that id seen the boy come in my class with missing eyebrows

Y/N: give the poor boy some slack he’s not very good at potions it's a hard subject for him

Severus: your beautiful when you smile you know…also i'll never stop loving you laugh it just brings be joy every time

At those comments i started to blush

Y/N: severus stop you're embarrassing me

Severus: i'm just trying to tell my dear wife how much i think she's beautiful and how much i love her presence

Y/N: well Mr snape i love you too

Severus: well Mrs snape i love you more

He cupped my cheek before he leaned in for a long passionate kiss, but without realising it students had filed into the class a a few had saw that kiss both. One of the student decided to get our attention and we both broke away from the kiss in surprise

Student: u-um excuse us professors

Y/N; o-oh im so sorry i should let you teach severus

I got up from his lap and made my way out of the class

Y/N: bye severus see you later

That potion class was a even bad one for those students since any student who tried to ask about what they saw would question it

After morning classes it was lunchtime and whispers and rumours already spread around the school about Severus and you. Causing severus to be annoyed he hated when people talked about you but it made you giggle more than anything since the amount of theories people thought of

Class had resumed and you had the third years first and you knew they were gonna ask questions but you didn;t mind telling them the truth it really surprised you though not more people new about you and severus marriage you neve had your affection but severus did always acted indifferent to it but you knew deep down he loved and didn't want people to see

As everyone was making their way into class you could sense they had questions but decided to ask later. As the class went one you decided that taking a 10 min break would be good for them since that class can be boring

Y/N: okay that's enough for now let's take a 10 min break ok

After saying that it was a que for students to start asking questions

Y/N: yes mister Weasley

Ron: is it true what they’re saying

Y/N: you'll need to be specific mister weasley

He looked a bit nervous to ask the question but the whole class was looking at him to ask it. Seems like everyone else wanted to know to

Ron: is it true you kissed professor snape i hear from some slytherin’s who went into the classroom they saw you

I gave out a long sigh i might as well be honest or else they may go wild with the rumours

Y/N: not that its anyone's business but yes it’s true we did kiss

Everyone was shocked and all started to talk either saying “ i told you so” or “ how can that be”

Then one of the slytherin’s asked a questions

Blaise: but miss aren't you a gryffindor and mister snape a slytherin

I was disappointed at that statement i hated house rivalries they always went to far

Y/N: yes its true mister Zabini but house should never matter when it come to love

That made the commotion even louder they didn’t think love was involved yet, most likely think this was a new occurrence

Then some one in the class decided to ask a smart question to finally put the pieces together

Hermione: Professor L/N what your relationship with Professor Snape

I gave a smile finally someone had maye notice i never really talked about my relationship unless asked same with severus so getting this question was a little bit exciting to me

Y/N: well miss granger good question my relationship with Professor snape is actually a simple question to answer

I paused for dramatic effect looking at all the anticipated face of the students giving them a sweet smile

Y/N: were actually Husband and Wife

Everyone was shocked giving out surprised gasps at the very thought

Student 1 : no way that can’t be true

Student 2 : why are you married to snape

Student 3: how long have you been married ?

Student 4: unbelievable

I decided to hush the class to explain this was such a big surprise to all of them apparently

Y/N; 1 it is true me and severus have been together for a few years now and quite happily married we’ve known each other since out student days, 2 severus is a very kind person and i would not appreciate you all bad mouthing my husband around me and 3 it very believable

After answering all their question classes resumed and it was finally finished the day went on as normal but you next classes were pretty much the same as the third years asking questions and being very shock at a gryffindor and slytherin were together

Classes were now done and it was time for dinner as you were waiting for dinner to start you waited for Severus but it seemed like he was a bit late, probably marking. But after a few minutes he had finally arrive while dinner was in full swing.

Y/N: hello love how were classes today

He seemed very grumpy probably due to the students constant questions

Severus: no very good student don’t know how to keep questions to them seleves

As he said that i look towards to student seeing them looking at our interactions, and a plan came into my head it could anger him a little bit or maybe help

So i decided while everyone was looking at us and he was talking, to give him a kiss on the cheek and i did

He froze for a sec but then relaxed guess the kiss worked and for a moment he ignore everyone around us and cupped my cheek to give me a quick kiss on the lips

Severus; i love you, i really do my darling wife

I smile at him i was so in love with this man

Y/N: i love you too my darling husband

After that everyone said awwww in the great hall which cause severus to snape out of it and go cold once again i slid my hand under the table to hold his hand to make sure he was okay and he squeezed back telling him he was fine then i brought it to my lips to give it a kiss causing everyone to awww once again

And to this day people say they could have sworn they saw professor snape blush

#severus snape #Severus snape x reader #harry potter #secret relationship #established relationship #romance #angst #fluff

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

darling dangers.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2022

prompt | vibrator

pairings | mean!dark!best friend!ransom drysdale and soft!dark!best friend!jake jensen x innocent!reader

warnings | non/dub-con (reader is reluctant and resistant.) ran and jake are absolutely taking advantage of reader. ran is an asshole, jake is a little better. heavy humiliation, babying, dumbification, mocking and degradation. crying kink. ransom holds reader down. pussy slapping. forced fingering and use of vibrator. heavy clit focus. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. jake is doing most of the work, ransom's just there to be mean lol.

word count | 2,312

an | um oh my godddddd, ,,, this idea has been swirling around in my brain for so long and finally, finally i get to bring it to fruition >:-)) welcome to kinktober, whores <333 also sorry if this one feels awkward or rusty? i've been writing whump for the past month so getting back into the filth felt a little clumsy :-((

As soon as you see the small black box sitting out in the open on the counter between your two best friends, both of their faces drawn in expectant expressions as they stand just waiting for you to walk in on the perfect scene they've orchestrated- you know you're in deep, deep trouble.

Ransom's crossing his arms, a small smirk forming on his face when he sees how wide your eyes have gone. Jake's giving off more disappointment than amusement, which honestly hits deeper than the twisted pleasure his counterpart's apparently finding in the whole ordeal. Gulping as you take a step forward into the kitchen, your voice betrays you by trembling as you dare to speak up. "R-Ran? Jakey? What's going on?"

"You know, it's funny, princess. We've been wondering the same thing," Ransom jests as he places a steady hand on the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he pauses to glance at the blonde standing beside him. "Right, J? We never would've imagined our precious little angel- our sweet, innocent y/n- turning out to be such a whore."

Tears prickle in your eyes at the remark; bottom lip puffing out slightly in a pathetic frown, you shake your head in defense. "N-no, don't say that. S'not true."

"Aww, look at her, Jake. Think she's gonna cry already. Go on then, sweetheart. Know you can't help it, you've always been such a sensitive little thing."

Brow stiffening in anger, you glare at the brown-haired boy. "Stop it," you whisper through your hurt and confusion. Why are they doing this to you? They're your best friends, your Ran and Jakey. What would ever drive them to humiliate you like this? You would've never seen it coming. "Wh-why were you going through my mail, anyway? You have no right."

"Well, it helped that we were expecting the package," Jake finally breaks his silence, letting out a small sigh as he crosses his own arms. "An email popped up about your order status while I was helping you fix your phone last week. Couldn't believe it, our sweet y/n, ordering from a site like that. But it looks like there was no mistake here." Turning slightly, he reaches out to pick up the little box with a single hand. Eyeing the picture on the lid, his disappointment only seems to grow as he looks back at you, "Buggy, d'you even know what these are made for? You have no business buyin' something like this; you're much too little, y/n."

Cheeks burning at your friend's patronizing words, your eyes narrow further. "Of course I know what they're made for, Jake. I... I'm not stupid, I'm a big girl. I can order whatever the hell I want," you shot back.

At that, Ransom chuckles as Jake can only manage to shake his head in further disappointment. "A big girl, huh? We'll see about that, babycakes."

Everything happens so fast, you're barely able to process it. Before you know it, the pair have whisked you away to your bedroom, Ransom laughing cruelly as he carries you over his shoulder. In the blink of an eye, they have you surrounded on the plush duvet of your queen-sized bed, the brunette coming up behind you to trap you in his arms. As he leans back against the pile of pillows at the head of the bed, he brings you with him, pressing your back up against his broad chest as you squirm in haste. Jake approaches the two of you on his knees, the box with your new toy still clasped in his hand. Writhing a bit as Ransom tightens his grip on you, you finally find your voice. "What the fuck-? Let go of me, let me go! What are you doing? This is-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jake tells you sadly as your other friend eventually gets a good enough hold on you to overpower your resistance. "This is for your own good, y/n. You need'ta learn not to mess around with these things. It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"Learn? What do you mean?" you cry as Ransom's large hands come up to pry your knees apart, using his own strong legs to hold you open. As soon as you feel the cool air of the apartment hitting the thin layer of fabric covering your delicate mound, you freeze. Peering down with wide eyes, you see that your little tennis skirt has flipped up in the most unfortunate of ways, leaving your lacy pink panties on full display for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. Heart pounding heavily in your chest, you clear your throat.

"R-Ran, Jakey... please..."

"We're not gonna hurt you, baby. Just gonna show you how dangerous these things can be, that's all. You're safe," Jake hums as he lays down on his tummy before you, scooting up between your widespread legs to come almost face-to-face with your now quivering core.

"Pink lace," Ransom snorts from behind you as his hands rest greedily on your inner thighs. "She really is a little slut, isn't she, J?"

Tears pool in your eyes as your cheeks burn in embarrassment. "P-please, please don't look," you beg, your tears earning a sympathetic frown from the blonde beneath you as he reaches out to run a tender hand over the lace of your panties.

"We're gonna be doin' a whole lot more than lookin', sweet thing," he admits as his fingers press against your dampness. "And would you look at that, someone's already gettin' wet." Squeezing out a few more tears as the man prods at your thinly-covered heat, you can only whimper in response.

"Doesn't surprise me. Bet she likes us being all rough, holding her down and spreading her open. You like that, sweetheart?" Ransom teases as he brings a hand up to cup one of your breasts over the flimsy yellow tank top you're wearing. "Never wears a bra around us, either. She's just asking to be played with." At the feeling of his cool hand slipping under your top to search for your beaded nipple, you cry out, straining against his wicked hold- but it's no use. Compared to Jake and Ransom, you're nothing in terms of size or strength. And now that they've got you where they want you, you're completely at their mercy. And you're not sure how much you can trust their promise of safety, not after all they've just done to you.

The meaner of the two laughs darkly as he finds one of the little knots of flesh, pinching and rolling it between his fingers as you cry softly to yourself. "Responsive little thing, isn't she?" he marvels as Jake takes to dealing with your panties; for a moment, he pushes them aside, but then after a few seconds of rethinking, he instead just decides to simply take the thin strip of fabric in his hands, pulling harshly until the band snaps apart completely.

"There we go," he murmurs as his eyes settle down on your dripping folds. "Such a pretty little pussy you've got, sunshine. It's a shame you didn't decide to share sooner."

Looking down over your shoulder to take his own peek, Ransom groans at the sight of your untouched petals. "Fuck, y/n. You've been keeping that all to yourself? Bet no one's ever done anything like this to you before. This your first time, princess?" Your words only continue to fail you as you lower your head in shame, your response giving the two boys all the answers they need. "Well too bad it has to be wasted on a punishment. Dumb little girl thought she could order a big girl toy- these things aren't made for you, baby. You're gonna realize that very quickly."

Pulling his hands away to fiddle with the box, Jake takes his time removing the little blue bullet from its packaging. The friends were smart enough to make sure to charge it before their little ambush, meaning they now have the benefit of its full battery life to spend on teaching you your little lesson. "Here it is," Jake hums, clicking it on carefully to the lowest speed. "Now sweetheart, I'm gonna give you one chance to get yourself outta this," he bargains.

That catches your attention. Raising your weary gaze to meet the blonde's soft set of eyes, you nod reluctantly. "I want you to show me and Ran exactly what you were gonna do with this thing. Want you to use it just like how you were planning when you bought it. And if you're honest with me- with us, and show us everything it was gonna do for you, we'll let you go."

Blinking, you take a moment to think. It's a good offer, you will admit, and he even seems genuine about keeping his end of the deal if you follow through with it. But there's a part of you that just can't bear the thought of demonstrating the crude acts you were intending on performing with the toy, at least not to your two best friends in the entire world. He left it unsaid, but it was implied: Jake wants you to make yourself cum for them. And you just can't do it, you know you can't. So you decide to do the only other thing you can think of: play stupid and pray they buy it.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. Shifting a little, Ransom releases one of your hands, still holding your breast hostage beneath his fingers, almost as an impending threat. Watching you carefully, Jake hands you the buzzing bullet, the strength of the toy's vibrations causing your hand to tingle ticklishly as you suck in a deep breath.

"Go ahead, cutie. Show us," Jake encourages.

Trying to keep your hand from shaking, you brace yourself as you bring the object down between your legs, searching a little to find your glistening hole. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push in, letting the low rumble of the vibrator settle into your core.

"Alright, that's enough," Ransom snaps, causing you to jump as Jake rips the toy from your heat and grasp. "Stupid fucking baby, that was a big mistake. Are you really too dumb to know where it goes? Or do you just want us to punish you?"

Shaking his head in disappointment, Jake sighs heavily. "Good girls don't lie, y/n," he states harshly as Ransom resecures both of your arms down against your back before reaching between your legs to land a few forceful slaps against your bare pussy.

You sob at the sting, gasping as his hand comes up to pull back the hood of your clit. "Give it to her, she was asking for it," he nods to Jake.

Turning up the toy a few clicks, the blonde focuses in his gaze on your little bundle of nerves as he gently collects some of your wetness on the twitching head of the tool before easing it up against your button, earning a strained gasp from you as your whole world's set on fire. The burning is unlike anything you've ever experienced, heat blooming in your core as you burst into more tears at the sensation. Shaking his head knowingly, Jake's voice is full of disappointment as he chastises you, "I gave you a chance, y/n, but you either lied to me, or you're just way dumber than I ever imagined."

"Look at all those tears," Ransom all but moans as he twists and pulls at your nipple, grinding subtly into your back as he holds you down for Jake's torment. "Keep it right on the head, pal- don't cut her any slack. What's the matter, sweetheart- huh? That too much for you? I thought you were a big girl who could handle big girl toys. Of course you're not," he laughs darkly, only egged on by the feeling of you writhing against him, "you're just a stupid little baby who needs to be taught a lesson."

"Think she's learning pretty quick," Jake comments as he practically drools at the sight of your wetness leaking out onto the bed beneath you. Using his free hand, he gently eases a finger into you, curling up gently to rub at your soft, spongey ceiling as your eyes roll back in horrific pain and pleasure.

"Please, please..." you're reduced to mere sobs as you feel the pressure of your orgasm building up more and more in your tummy. "Please, n-no-... wait-... stop-..."

"There it is. C'mon, baby. Cum for us, it's okay," Jake coos as he twirls the head of the bullet over your swollen clit. "That's it, there you go," he sighs with a small smile as you're forced over the edge, your back arching painfully as you squirt out onto his waiting hands.

"Fuck," Ransom curses from behind you, his cock bulging needily at the sight of you being forced to cum. "She's a fucking squirter, would'ya look at that. Better than anything I was dreaming of," he groans as your little toes twitch from the overstimulation, your sobs growing louder as you come down from your high.

"P-please, please, no more!" you hiccup, the continued vibrations against your now engorged button enough to bring you to your knees.

"You think she's learned her lesson, Ran?" Jake asks doubtfully, already knowing what the answer will be as he stretches you open to add a second finger before turning up the bullet another few notches.

"No, I don't think we're anywhere near finished," the brunette responds cruelly as he slaps his hand down a few times against your throbbing heat before pulling back on your lips again to spread you out once more. "She needs at least one more, maybe two. Gotta really show her how dangerous that little thing can be."

#eun's writing #darling dangers #kinktober 2022 #ransom drysdale smut #jake jensen smut #jake jensen #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #jake jensen fanfiction #dark!ransom drysdale #dark!jake jensen #chris evans #chris evans smut #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #jake jensen one shot #jake jensen imagine #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine

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chochuuya · 6 months

Text

boy next door.

hanma shuji x fem!reader

disclaimers: hair down and glasses hanma is in mind, he calls you miss perfect, slow burn kinda, college/uni setting, mentions of weed & alcohol, you & him are of the same age, hanma shuji in general 🚬

note: please do read with precaution. more suitable for those 18+, even though the overall fic is fluff and this is a sfw blog (^^ゞ

word count: 2.2k [2262]

it’s been a few weeks since you’ve moved into a new neighbourhood, finally gaining independence and a new start in university.

the problem is, it’s anything but positive.

boom. boom. boom.

you swore that you could feel your windows pane rattle due to the loud music coming from next door.

trying to keep your cool, you found yourself in front of your new neighbour’s doorstep, apparently named hanma shuji. you shouldn’t have to be doing this. again. it’s 2 in the morning.

you knocked his door, hoping to get an answer or at least tell him to lower down his music.

there’s no response from within.

you knock a little louder and a second later, his front door swings open.

hanma, wearing only boxers, leans on the door’s frame, rubbing his eyes. his hair is disheveled and his voice is hoarse when he speaks to you.

“...what?”

unfazed by his appearance, you sighed before explaining yourself. “for the fifth time this week hanma, can you please lower down your volume? people are trying to sleep.”

he just stares at you, his brow furrowing. his gaze is... piercing and cold.

“look, i don’t really care about people trying to sleep. its friday; i have a party to throw.”

“at 2 am?” you didn’t even try to sneak a peek at his place. you would rather not.

hanma rolled his eyes.

“it's early; the majority aren’t here yet. but the ones that are here are having a good time.”

you stayed quiet, trying to process his words.

“fine, whatever. do whatever you please.”

he smirked, noticing your reaction and gives a mocking smirk.

“if you’re going to act like a grouch, go back to bed. it’s not like you’re invited anyway. i don’t like the look of you, miss perfect.”

“don’t like the way i look but calls me that.. what an idiot.” you mumbled to yourself and went back to your house, which is oh, so conveniently next to his.

he watched as you started to walk away.

“oh, you aren’t leaving already, are you? i thought you wanted to have a discussion with me.”

“what discussion? i only asked you to turn down your music, hanma.” you deadpanned. “good night.” you went back to the comfort of your own home.

he didn’t like that. the volume of the music increased again. the thumping and bass became even louder than before, probably just to annoy you.

you heard footsteps approaching your front door, and him knocking loudly. “hey, come out. i just wanted to talk.”

you opened the door a tiny bit as you glare at him irritated.

“what is it that you want now?”

“what i want?” he asked bitterly. “i want you to stop being such a goddamn prude.”

taken aback by that remark, you opened your door wider and your arms crossed.

“excuse me?”

hanma stepped forward, towering over you. his face was just inches away from yours, with your head tilted upward to look at him.

“i said, don’t be so uptight. just come to one of my parties already, you stick-in-the-mud.”

“i'd rather be sleeping.”

he was speechless and eyes widened as he looked down at you.

“you’re not serious, right? you’d rather be sleeping, rather than partying? it’s a friday night! everyone’s having fun, but you choose to be a loner instead?” his tone was dripping with sarcasm and he couldn’t help but sneer.

“yeah, so good night.” you closed your door once more and actually turned off the lights, trying to shoo him away.

“no wait, come ba—”

he tried opening your door, but it was locked.

“damn it...” he muttered to himself, before returning to his own home. the music continued to go on through the night.

the next two weeks went by without the hanma shuji hosting another party. the peace had been restored, and you started to relax...

..that is, until the following tuesday.

you woke up at the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning, the loud roaring music of another party disturbing your sleep. you covered your ears in annoyance and got up to investigate.

you knocked on his door.

there he is.. just in boxers, opening his door again. his hair was wild but still somehow looked good on him. he yawned and his voice sounded raspy.

“what do you want? it’s 4am.” he stared at you sleepily, a small smirk forming on his lips as he remembered your previous encounter.

you eyed him sharply, annoyed. “how did you even sleep with music that loud?! turn it down, hanma.”

the music started again, now slightly quieter. he turned to you and once again, he did not hold back his words as they came out sharp.

“what, didn’t your parents ever teach you to mind your own business? stay in your lane, miss perfect. nobody asked you to butt into my matters and my lifestyle.”

he pushed his hair away from his face and rolled his eyes, as if your request was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.

oh, you hoped he finds his brain back there with the amount of times he have been rolling his eyes every time you both talk.

“when your loud ass music comes to my range of hearing, it is already my business hanma. you're going to be the death of me one day.”

before you could make it back into your house, he walked up next to you, looking down at you once again.

“awww, that’s cute of you to assume that i’d ever let my music be the death of you.” his voice was cold and sarcastic, but the way he said it... sent chills down your spine.

“night's still young, and my party’s just getting going. do you mind if you... join in?”

“yes i would mind.”

typical hanma looked you up and down for a good few seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not he should keep pestering you. his gaze was sharp, and almost unsettling. and to your surprise, he actually chuckled at you.

“oh come on! i’m not letting you off that easily. i want to see you let loose for one night. you need a break from that uptight and workaholic personality you’ve got going on.”

“i don’t see the point of having parties at 4 in the morning.”

he chuckled again.

“because it’s a party, (y/n). you don’t see the point? well, let me show you then. come join us.” he took your arm and held it, waiting for a response from you.

“fine but i won’t stay long.” you reluctantly followed him into his place.

“us?” you thought to yourself.

almost immediately, the strong smell of cigarette and people almost knocked you out. your eyes dart everywhere at the crowd and felt out of place.

as soon as you walk in, you notice a few people standing against various walls in the living room. there’s also people dancing and sitting on the couch, chatting away. the smell of the devil’s lettuce is overwhelming, and it feels strange to see this side of your neighbourhood.

hanma led you to the couch where he sat, looking at you and grinning. “sit with me!” he gestured to the couch.

“make yourself at home.”

you had to cover your nose and mouth with a hand or else you would start to cough like a kid. you sit next to him anyway, since it is probably the safest.

hanma laughed at your reaction, not even bothering trying to mask his smirk.

“don’t be so dramatic, (y/n). it’s just pot!” he chuckled. “here.”

he handed you what appeared to be a.. cancer stick in your eyes.

“oh no, thank you.” you declined his offer, shaking your head.

he chuckled again — he was probably quite entertained by your reactions tonight.

“oh, come on. live a little!” he raised the joint near your face, almost forcing you to take it.

“i’m leaving if you push it any further.” you deadpanned.

he narrowed his eyes, but eventually let out a sigh.

“fiiiine, you have no fun.” he said mockingly. he took a huge hit from his cig and then exhaled the smoke slowly, before grinning at you.

“how about... just have a sip of my beer, then?you can’t be that picky when it comes to alcohol, miss perfect.”

you may not be much of a drinker but you can handle it. you hesitantly took the beer from his hand— force of habit, you wiped the opening with your hoodie before taking a sip.

“there.” you gave it back to him.

he giggled and stared at you with his arms crossed. his gaze was almost piercing. he didn’t say anything for a moment, probably waiting to tease you more.

“how old are you, again, (y/n)?”

“you don’t ask a lady that, hanma.”

he laughed. “oh, shut up. that’s a pathetic response. you’re in college, right? then just tell me your age already. you’re obviously not a little girl, so just tell me and drop the act for a second.”

you were getting irritated by the minute and feeling humid too from the crowd.

“you first.”

he smirked at your response. “fine, i'm __. now your turn, miss prude.”

you swear he just knows how to annoy you every time. you rolled your eyes.

“same age then, jerk.”

“well, well. same age, huh? that’s funny, i’d think you were way older since you act like, i don’t know... a grandma?” he laughed at his own joke as he took a sip out of his drink.

the night, or should i say morning.. dragged on until you managed to escape from his party. you took the opportunity to sleep until the actual morning.

you woke up feeling fresh and did your usual routine before throwing away your trash.

you made your way to the outside bins and that’s when you notice hanma was standing next to you. he stared at you with his piercing eyes, no surprise there.

“you know, the more that i see you around, the more annoyed i get. you’re a walking headache, (y/n).” he had an annoying smirk on his face once again — his way of trying to wind you up.

“good morning to you too, i guess.” you said nonchalantly as you threw away the trash.

hanma didn’t reply to you right away, just watched you throw away your trash without a word. you noticed that he seemed... distracted, his gaze wandering from you, to something or someone else.

something was annoying him.

“you just woke up, yet you look better than i do.” he said, his voice low. even for hanma, it was an unusual comment, as if he was trying to... compliment you?

you raised an eyebrow. “..thank you?”

you would give a more.. sassy reply like he should cut down on the damn cigs and alcohol but maybe next time.

he chuckled softly and leaned up against the wall. “no problem. i’m just saying you look good.”

he stared at you for a good few seconds, then finally spoke up again.

“do you have anything planned right now?”

“not really but—”

“you want to grab a cup of coffee with me?” he asked bluntly. he waited for a response. of course, he had a smirk on his face again, as if he was expecting you to refuse and then for him to say something smart or sarcastic in response.

you couldn’t believe your own ears and looked at him as if he transformed into a different person.

“i’m sorry, what?”

he shrugged, his tone slightly softer.

“i’m asking you out for coffee.” he looked at you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “i’d like to get to know you.”

“uh.. sure, coffee it is.” you were still slightly surprised though but he asked nicely.

hanma nodded to you and if you were quick and had looked closely, he smiled to the ground. his eyes seemed less sharp than before.

“good. let’s go now.” he then offered you a hand to hold, waiting for you to accept.

“and stop acting so surprised. i’m not such a bad person, you know.”

“well, you are annoying.” you took your hand in his anyway.

he nodded in agreement, chuckling to himself. he was actually quite surprised that you accepted his offer so quickly.

both of you went and walked off together to a nearby coffee shop.

“do you have a boyfriend, or anything?” he asked out of nowhere.

that caught you off guard and almost made you choke on your own spit. you looked up to him in disbelief.

“right off the bat??”

he shrugged as he walked beside you.

“i’ve never liked beating around the bush, it pisses me off. besides, that way, i know if i have any chance of getting to know you more without stepping on some other guy or chick's toes.”

he was completely unbothered by your reaction to his question. in fact, he didn’t seem to care.

“what’s the big deal with that question?” he smirked. “answer the question, (y/n).”

“no, i don’t have one hanma.”

“i’m.. actually surprised. so, i have a chance huh?”

you scoffed. you knew that he was just trying to gouge a reaction out of you. shortly after, you two arrived to the coffee shop.

he ordered an iced coffee for himself, and got one for you as well. hanma's gaze was still fixated on you.

“so, what’s someone like you doing being single?”

oh, he isn’t wasting any time eh?

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

💌 hanma for ray!! @h4nman

this is.. the longest solo character fic i've ever written. just testing the waters hehe ＼＿ﾍ(ω・｀) all likes & reblogs are vv much appreciated! ♡

#🐯 luna writes #🐯 luna's fics #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revenger scenario #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers oneshot

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keigh0e · 1 year

Text

Friendzone ♥ Bakugo Katsuki

Prompt: It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection

Word Count: 3.6k

Triggers: No spice, just fluff, some explosive behavior and naughty words

Author Note: Hi guys! This is my first ever post on this blog, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I’d also love it if you sent me some requests, check out this pinned post to see what anime’s I write for and find a very big prompt list

This is an unedited piece so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes

Being Bakugo’s longest friend comes with its own perks, at least in your eyes.

You and Bakugo had existed together for as long as you can remember, your mother was best friends with his and they’d ended up getting pregnant around the same time which meant you went through school together. You followed one another to UA as well, and there was no doubt you’d start a Hero agency together, or at least share the same building… Maybe just the same street, depending on how overbearing Bakugo is with you.

You and him were petals flying in the same gust of wind, there was no questioning it, you were simply together.

That didn’t mean you avoided his wrath, you probably got it more than anyone actually, that was only because he knew you could handle it and even match against him.

But you also got all of his softness, it wasn’t as loud as his rage and it made itself apparent in ways most people missed, but not you, you were Bakugo’s best friend, your soul attuned to his.

His quiet softness appeared when he always rushed ahead of you to open a door for you, and when he’d stop mid sentence and kneel down to take care of your undone shoelace, or when he’d always step closer to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders because a stranger had gotten too close to you (or Mineta, but Bakugo normally kicked the little perv away before he got the chance to get too close to you).

There was only one time his softness became loud and that was at night.

You’d taken the UA move into the dorms as bravely as you could, but after a week you were homesick. The longest you’d ever stayed away from your parents was when you had a sleepover at Bakugo’s, that was usually only for one or two nights, plus, it was only a trip down the road.

You struggled with falling asleep and it didn’t take long for Bakugo to notice the change in you. The same day he finally clocked on to the bags under your eyes and the invisible weight slumping your shoulders, he snuck into your room that night.

As he got into your bed you asked what he was doing and he respectfully told you to ‘shut your face’. The next thing you knew, he’d wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his chest, then his hand was running through your hair and sleep came so easily it swept you as easily as he had swept you into his arms. He hadn’t cured your homesickness, he’d done something much better than that, he’d given you a new place to call home.

That was also the night when the lines between friendship and something more started to get blurry. He was still your best friend, still protective and caring, still a pain in the arse. But suddenly, his hand always found its way into yours, his arm always around your shoulder even when no one else was around. And every single night, without fail, he came to your dorm room and snuggled up with you, petting your head before falling asleep.

You did try speaking to him about it once, but it didn’t go very well.

A month had gone by of him sleeping in your dorm room. Once it got to the weekend, you and Bakugo went for your routine coffee which you treated yourselves to every Saturday as a ‘well done’ for making it through another week of high school and surviving all the villian attacks.

You got a caramel latte while he went for a black coffee, after getting your drinks Bakugo walked you over to a table with his hand on your back and pulled out your chair before sitting down.

“So,” you began, and then you stumbled on what to say so you just blew on your latte to cool it down.

It had never been like this with Bakugo before, so stilted and awkward. He seemed to be noticing the tension as well as he stared down at you with a raised brow. “So?”

“So…” You tried to start again, tried to push through your awkwardness. “Are sleepovers a regular thing now?”

His whole body tensed, but that was the only sigh he gave that your question had affected him. “Yeah, that a problem?”

Yes, you wanted to say.

Yes, it was a big problem, because even after a month you got excited whenever it got to night time and your heart fluttered every single time he wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you so tightly against his body, as if to say ‘you are mine, and you’re not going anywhere’. You were 90% sure those weren’t feelings friends were meant to have for one another.

But, at the same time, the thought of losing that, losing him, was too painful.

You shook your head. “No, not a problem.”

“Then stop acting weird, you’re freaking me out,” he snapped, no real bite to his words. There never was.

That was that. You and Bakugo were still best friends, still hung out, still argued and every night, no matter what kind of day you’d had, you cuddled up together and fell asleep.

It became the new norm, as did living with your brewing emotions.

Until you and the gang had all decided to play a game together one night.

You and Bakugo could have only lasted so long, one of you would have broken eventually, you were just surprised at who broke first.

♥♥♥

You laughed along with Kirishima as Denki did his best opera impression, the noise filling up every crevice in the room and making you cringe to the point your teeth were grinding together.

On your other side was Bakugo, one hand covering his ear, the other resting on your bicep as his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Will you shut up already?!” He yelled. Whilst you’d been coping with Denki’s singing, you did have to lean away from your friends as he yelled directly in your ear. Once he finished, he sent you an apologetic look and then used the arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“I caaaaaan’t!” Kaminari sang with a dramatic swing of his hands, “I was daared too serenade the ever-so-lovely Jiroooooooooouuuuuu.”

“She also wants you to shut up, moron,” Jirou hissed. Her words made it out like she was angry, but the blush on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t look Kaminari in the eyes made you think she was feeling something else other than anger. Though, you may have just been projecting.

“Fine,” Kaminari huffed, arms flopping down at his side as he finished his performance. He gave you and your friends the gift of perfectly serene silence, for all of three seconds before he straightened up and pointed a finger directly at Bakugo. “As it’s now my turn, I choose you, Bakugo, to be my next victim.”

The hothead smirked, and you hated the way your stomach flipped at the sight of it. “I’m no one's victim, do your worst Sparky.”

The night had escalated after Mina had proposed a game of ‘truth or dare’, but you had an awful feeling stirring in your stomach when you saw the devious glint in Kaminari’s eye. You knew whatever Bakugo got given, he had too much pride to bow out.

“Truth or dare,” Kaminari asked.

“Stupid question, dare,” Bakugo replied.

“I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

You were the first to move, before Kaminari had even finished his sentence, you were up on your feet, putting space between you and Bakugo. “No, no, no,” you laughed, noticing it sounded more strained than joyful. “Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to?” Mina asks, her tone teasing. You’d been asked a million and one times if there was something more between you and Bakugo by your fellow students. It looks like no matter how many times you say no, they just don’t believe you.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you gruffed, doing your best Bakugo impression as you scowled over at Mina.

You take another step back as Bakugo stands up turning to face you, that usual frown playing on his lips and a surprising amount of determination in his eyes.

You’d seen that look before. The day he decided you were both becoming heroes, the day you decided to go to UA. That look only ever appeared whenever he decided something monumental and life changing. Normally you were filled with excitement when you saw that look in his eyes. Not on that night.

“What are you doing?” You asked whilst taking another step back. It became a new game for you and Bakugo, he took a step forward and you took a step back. Unfortunately, the wall behind you was closer than you realised and the next thing you knew, Bakugo was standing right there, centimeters from your face.

You’ve stood that close before, plenty of times, but never before had you been so aware of his body, of the heat emanating from him. When you looked into his eyes, you saw them solely focused on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to break that line between friends and something more.

Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure and Bakugo wasn’t giving you much choice as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips towards his, the momentum slamming the two of you together.

It started rash and rough, which wasn’t all that much of a surprise as this was Bakugo you were kissing. But then it hit you, the most achingly beautiful thing about every moment you’ve spent with Bakugo, his quiet softness.

The way he moved his lips against yours, guiding you rather than demanding you. It had you melting against him, your hands searching out his chest to relax on, your body leaning on his for support.

His own hands had fallen to your neck, his palm resting on your pulse point while his thumb stroked encouragingly against your jaw, gently moving the angle of your face so that he could explore your mouth further.

You would have given up a lot in that moment if it meant you could stay there in that embrace. Screw the line, it was boring. This, Bakugo’s lips, were exciting and awe-inspiring. He was everything, he was your everything.

“Alright kids, time for bed,” Aizawa appeared out of nowhere, or at least you hoped he had. If he’d watched you fall apart in Bakugo’s arms the way you just did, you weren’t sure how you’d face him in your next class.

You were meant to be a superhero, a badass, but when Bakugo pulled away from you, your lips tried to follow him and a whimper escaped before you could stop it.

You watched him take in your expression, you weren’t in control of it, too taken by how good it had felt to kiss your est friend and how shocked you were by how much you wanted to do it again. At best, you imagined there was a hazy and dim look in your eyes.

That determined look was still fiery in his eyes as he straightened you up so you weren’t leaning completely on his body. Then with a slight nod of his head and one more glance into your eyes, he said the very last thing you expected: “Talk to you tomorrow.”

You blinked at his retreating figure, so many questions floating through your mind as you watched him meander his way to the boys dorm rooms.

‘Talk to you tomorrow’? What did that mean? Surely it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to come to your room later? Right?

♥♥♥

That bastard wasn’t coming to your room. It would be the first night in months that you didn’t have him, and he’d decided it needed to be after he kissed you. He got you hooked and then took away your addiction.

Well screw him. He didn’t get to just do that, not to you.

There was a reason you were best friends for that long, because you could be just as explosive as him when you wanted to be.

The fact that you needed to sneak to his room ruined your ire a little bit, especially when you had to gently tap on his door when what you really wanted to do was knock the damn thing off of its hinges.

A few moments later a tired looking Bakugo appeared. It was well after ten O’clock at night so it didn’t surprise you to see a sleepy expression on your best friend, he was very strict about his sleeping routine and the conditions that he needed when sleeping. You didn’t mind most of the time because it just helped you fall asleep as well.

One rule you’d both always followed was to never go to sleep angry with one another, it stopped you from being able to fall asleep quickly, the anxious thoughts keeping you awake, and Bakugo obviously wouldn’t stand for that when his beauty sleep was much more important..

“What are you doing here Y/N?”

Not bothering to respond, you pushed past Bakugo, earning no resistance from your best friend who often let you have your way. Up until your kiss, you hadn’t though much about why.

“It’s bed time.” You simply answered, shuffling onto Bakugo’s bed and settling yourself on the side furthest from the door. That was Bakugo’s rule, not yours. He wanted to be close to the door in case someone tried to break in and he needed to protect you, when he’d confessed that to you, you’d just rolled your eyes at him.

He continued eyeing you as you moved the comforter over your knees, you met his stare head on, refusing to back down. “Exactly, both of us should be asleep, not knocking on my door.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to knock on your door if you’d come to my room, you know, like every other night,” you sassed back.

He averted his eyes from yours, something had flashed in them though before he’d turned away. Was it hurt? Or shame? “Well I guess things have changed now.”

“And that’s my fault?” It certainly felt like it was. You were the one losing your best friend, even though he’d been the one who’d kissed you. It was unfair, you’d been safely balancing on the line for years, not reacting at all to the way he’d make you feel sometimes. But now he was messing it all up!

He scoffed again at your words, just fuelling your rage. “Did I say it was?!”

“You kissed me Bakugo, then you just walked away and told me you’d speak to me tomorrow? I’ve been your best friend since the day I was born, I deserve better than that.” You were getting so passionate you’d started speaking with your hands, throwing your arms out and slamming your hands against your chest.

Your former best friend (at least for now) took several moments to take in your words, then he started walking over and you prepared yourself to get manhandled. Instead, he flumped down on his side of the bed, still not looking at you. “You’re right.”

“No, you shut up! Wait, what? I’m right?” He said you were right? Those were rare words form your best friend, you’d totally been prepared to have a screaming match with him, thats how your arguments usually went. You weren’t sure if this was some new tactic to try win arguments with you, so you chose to stick with being defensive. “Yeah, I am right! Glad we’re in agreement.”

Finally he looked at you. “Will you quieten down? Someone will hear you’re in here.” Those his words were aggressive, there was nothing on his expression that showed he was angry with you. He looked upset more than anything else. For some people it might have been hard to tell the difference, but you read his every feature like it was your favourite book.

So he wasn’t angry with you. Anger would make more sense than that upset expression on his face. You couldn’t figure out a reason for why he’d be upset, unless the kiss had been that bad? No, you realised, if it was bad then you definitely would have known, even if Bakugo didn’t tell you, you’d have been able to read it from his body if he’d not enjoyed it.

“The fact you of all people are telling me to quiet my voice is very laughable, I hope you know that,” you commented. Your voice had gone softer, the anger being swept away like the tide.

“Funny.” He responded, in a tone that held no amusement. He seemed to take a moment to do a deep breath before he continued to speak, finally explaining himself but still not looking you in the eyes. “I thought maybe you’d want space after I kissed you, I know it’s going to change things, I know how I want things to change, but I wanted to give you time to figure out what you wanted.”

“What do you mean?” You knew what he meant. You’d been thinking the exact same thing, but the difference is you weren’t as brave as Bakugo was. You needed him to continue being brave, because you couldn’t just step over that line, you needed his guidance. No, you needed reassurance that he’d be stepping over that line with you.

Maybe he knew that’s why you asked, maybe he heard it hidden behind your nervousness, despite you not saying it. He finally looked up and he even reached out, grabbing your hand in his. “It wasn’t just a one off for me; it was me hoping you’d see the connection.”

You looked from his hand in yours to his eyes, he was analysing you just as much as he was analysing you. “So you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and it was almost laughable at how nice he was being to you in that moment. Of course, as soon as you thought that he had to go ruin it. “I mean, we pretty much are already, you’re always hanging off my arm and cuddling up to me at night, only difference is we’d be kissing, and you weren’t that bad.”

The thing is, you liked his backhanded comments, because you knew they were always just compliments disguised. He wasn’t loud with his kindness, and that worked well for you. He was loud with everything else, and nine out of ten times, it amused you.

So even then, as he tried to blame you for all the cuddling you’d been doing together even though he’d been the one who started every interaction, you were completely and utterly charmed. Whilst you may have said ‘so you want to be like, boyfriend and girlfriend?’ He had heard ‘I’m scared you’re not thinking this through and we might be risking our friendship’. And whilst he’s said a load of hot air, you heard ‘you’re who I choose, you’re worth every risk’.

“Uh huh,” you hummed in response. “Ask me.”

He blinked over at you. “What?”

A prideful look that matched Bakugo’s filled your expression as your stature straightened slightly. “You want to date me, then you need to ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“You’re a real pain in my arse, Y/N,” he groaned, letting go of your hand and flopping down on his bed beside you.

“Back at you.” You got comfortable beside him, snuggling under the blanket and turning to face him.

He was looking up at the ceiling. “Be my girlfriend.”

You frowned at that. Did he really think you’d agree so easily? Had he forgotten who his best friend is. “You gonna say please?”

Turning around, his arm automatically fell onto your waist. “You want to be my girlfriend, I don’t need to say please.”

“It’s polite Bakugo.” You admonished.

“After all these years we’ve been friends, you still don’t know I don’t care about manners, they’re just a waste of time.”

“Guess being your girlfriend would be a waste of my time then,” you tutted.

“Whatever. I’m done with this shit, I’m going to bed.”

“Fine.” Your words were terse but you didn’t budge an inch, comfortable in his hold.

“Fine!” He yelled, showing just how much you’d riled him up. You’d lying if you said it didn’t make you smile.

“Will you stop yelling? They might figure out I’m in here,” you hissed, mirroring his earlier words because you apparently weren’t done with pissing off your best friend.

His arm raised from around your waist to your shoulders, until he was shoving your face into your chest. “Shut up,” he hissed, smothering you. You slapped your hand against his chest three times before he relaxed.

Neither of you said anything, just fermenting in your annoyance towards one another for a little while before it faded. Anytime you argued with Bakugo, it would always fade, the feelings of anger or disdain taking off their mask and revealing themselves as something else, normally frustration.

Because you loved him, a lot, and you hated fighting with him. It was a difficult thing to avoid when you were both so spirited sometimes, but it didn’t matter, because that love you had for him was stronger than anything else.

It seemed Bakugo agreed with you as his hand lowered back down to your waist, crawling under your vest. He didn’t need his powers, just his touch had you feeling like tiny explosions were going off wherever his hand moved. He gripped you on the curve of your hip bone, his entire body stiffening.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low, giving it a rough tone that had you trembling in the most wonderful way. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

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qaxqxd · 7 months

Text

Not leavin'

♡: Din Djarin x f!reader Genre: Hurt/Comfort Warning: Tiny angst, Injuries, blood, Din being soft for reader (yes that needs its own warning), casualties, maybe ooc din, reader with abandoned issues. Word count: 1.7k A/n: I have awoken from my slumber 🫶 Summary: You've been staying with a Mandalorian who saved you, and who has been keeping you safe. You adventure out to the town, as something bad happens. You didn't want him to find out, scared that he'll leave you.

It hasn't been long since that Mandalorian saved you. You didn't know why he saved you. Actually you do. He's a bounty hunter, and the people who were chasing you just so happen to be his bounty.

He wasn't trying to save you. He just hit two birds with one stone. So you thought. You wanted to repay him for it.

"It's fine." The monotone voice came out, the beskar armor man. "Just let me repay you. I owe you my life." You had your head lowered.

The man wouldn't give in, until you saw a green little child walk around him.

He tilted his big green ears at you. He coos and giggled walking over to you. He reached out for you.

So you picked him up. He seems happy in your arms. You were good with children, and the child knew. Because he was all giggly. The Mandalorian looked at you.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he seemed content.

"I could take care of him, repaying you for saving me." You uttered.

It's been about a whole year exactly. Since you and Din met. He trusted you enough to share his name. You two built a fond relationship with each other.

And… You sort of liked him too.

Also Grogu. Grogu was his child. Apparently he is a jedi. He seems to like being around you. Always giggling and cooing around you. His father seemed a little jealous of it.

It's quite funny actually. But Grogu always goes back to his father.

You landed on a semi-familiar planet. Din had a bounty hunt here. He finally allowed you to get out of the ship for once.

"You know the way back right?" He stared at you. "Of course, Din. This isn't my first time." You crossed your hand.

"And the weapons?" He speaks. "In the wall, AND yes I know the combination." You took a big sigh.

"Just worry about the bounty and the Grogu." You reassured the worried man. You stared at the T-visor trying to collect any emotion out of him.

You were going out shopping for a few things. Din gave you some credits to spend. Which you had in your pocket.

Grogu was sitting in his father's bag, strapped around him. You could see his big ears popping out.

"Do you remember the—" "Controls to lockdown the Razor Crest? Maker, yes I do." You cut him off.

He sighed under his helmet, jerking his head off to the side. "Just stay safe." He grumbles. "You too, y'know. You're the one with the mission."

"Don't worry about me." He turned around walking out. As he left you alone in the Razor Crest.

How could you not worry about him?

You looked around for a while. There were different types of things, laid out everywhere. It was pleasant to see. You were holding a few items that you already bought.

You need bacta and bandages, for Mando. But you didn't know where to find them. Usually other planets would have a type of aid store.

You eventually found a sketchy store in the corner. It sold what you needed, so you decided to go there.

Not knowing how dangerous it was. When you headed out of the store, you glance over a group of people. You just ignore them until one of them stops you.

"Don't you have something you're forgetting?" One of them asked. "M'sorry?" You frowned, gripping your bag. He reached his hand out.

"You enter our alley. Now you gotta pay." He spoke in a dark tone.

You didn't know what to do. They all had blasters. You had one too, but you probably wouldn't be able to take them on.

Or could you?

They didn't notice that you had a blaster. So you could probably take them in surprise right?

Oh maker. How wrong you were.

They left you all messed up in a corner. Stealing all your credits and stuff you bought. You stood up, all staggered. Blood drips from your scratched skin, nasty purple bruises.

Your arm was in agony, the most. You knew Din would probably be pissed at you. You didn't do much around the place. So wasting supplies and getting hurt. He would definitely cast you out.

You grab a nearby towel and wrap it around yourself. Taking a deep breath, you started walking back to the Razor Crest.

You hoped Din didn't come back already.

When you arrived back. You were let out a sigh. He wasn't there, yet. Which meant you had to clean yourself up. Your arm was still stinging.

Making it hard for you to move quickly. You got into the fresher, cleansing your body off, of all the blood and dirt.

You quickly put on some clothes that would cover your body, and wouldn' tshow your wounds. You didn't notice till now, that your legs were suffering too.

You wrap your wounds in spare cloths, not wanting to use up materials. That could be used for Din.

You lied on the cot, limiting yourself from moving much. The fatigue eventually got to you, and you slept on the cot.

Din arrives back, placing Grogu down to play around. He noticed that the door to the cot was closed.

So you must have been home, sleeping. All the worries slip away from him. You got home safe and sound.

He fixed some dinner for the three of you. Some soup that he got after the bounty hunt. He placed a small bowl for Grogu. Grogu examines the soup as he usually does.

Din knocks on the door to the cot. You woke up to the knocking. Still feeling depleted of energy and drowsy.

'Right… He must be home.' You thought.

Opening the door to the cot. You were greeted by a bowl of soup and the beskar man. You gave him a groggy smile, as you accepted the bowl.

You held the bowl with your agonizing arm, which made it hurt even more.

You struggle to stand up, and Din seems to notice that. Eventually you do stand up, but limp quite a lot.

"You al' right there?" His helmet facing your direction. "M'fine, just slept the wrong way." You let out a plastic laugh.

He didn't buy it. He stayed with you long enough that laugh was fake. He's heard you laugh before. Your pleasant laugh and generous smile.

He had a terrible gut feeling something was off. Your actions and movements felt wrong.

No, he knew it was wrong.

"So… how was it?" You started up. "It went smoothly." He stated. "That's great." You stammered.

"How was yours?" He inquired.

"It was fine." You uttered. "You seem tense." He added. He stood up which made you flinch badly.

"Are you sure you're fine?" He tilted his helmet, enough so he could eat and not reveal his face.

"Yes!— I'm fine." You belted. Grogu looked up at you. "I just need rest." You let out a frustrated sigh.

Placing down your untouch food, struggling to stand up again. You didn't notice that your cloths were leaking.

"You're bleeding." Din quaked. That's when your legs collapse on you.

What great timing.

He caught you before you landed on the floor. Adrenaline spiked through him.

'She's hurt, injured, bleeding.' Thoughts raced through his head.

All the numbing, agonizing pain returned.

"Where are you hurt?" He demanded. "Im—" He cut you off, picking you up to the cot.

"Show me." He barked. "I'm fine— really!" You gave into his demands and rolled up your pants.

You couldn't tell, but he widened his eyes. He saw your wounds wrap in pieces of cloth. He was very devastated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He frowned through his visor.

"I didn't want you to know." You mumble.

"Why?" His tone turned weak.

"No reason." You jerk your head away from him.

"You could've used the aid-kit, (Y/N)." He sighed.

"It's a small wound, I don't need that." You muttered. He scoffed at your words. He seem angry.

He got off the bed to go somewhere. You sat there in pity.

What now was he going to leave you? Kick you out? Whatever he was going to do to you. You prepared for the worst.

He came back with the aid kit. You knitted your eyebrows in confusion. "You don't need to waste your bandages on me." You stated.

"Waste? No, you're wounded. I'm not wasting anything, cyar'ika." He quaked.

Cyar'ika? What does that mean? You knew it was probably Mando'a. Since he was a Mandalorian.

He took off his gloves, revealing his calloused hands. You watch him gently clean your wounds. You hissed at the pain. He was oh so gentle with it.

You could feel the warmth of his hands, finishing your wounds with band-aids.

"I'm sorry." You tremble. "What for?" He tilted his head up. "I— don't even know why you even keep me." You muttered. "I must be a pain to keep around."

He leans in to hold you. Wrapping his arms around you, trying to somewhat comfort you. "That's not true." He added. Wiping your tears with his fingers.

"You are a lovely person to keep around, cyar'ika." He pulled your sobbing body closer.

He continues to comfort you. He cares for you more than you expected.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He spoke.

"I was afraid you didn't want me anymore." You mumble.

"I'd never leave you, cyar'ika." He reassured you.

"What does that mean?" You laid your head on his shoulder.

"Cyar'ika, could mean darlin' or sweetheart." He said a little flustered, you got a little flustered from that too.

"Now I have a question too. Do you mind explaining what happened?" He requested.

You explained to him what had happened, and he listened to you carefully. Hanging on to every word and detail.

Grogu climbs into the cot for support and falls asleep.

Din held you in his arms till you fell asleep. The fatigue caught up to him too.

He knew what he was going to do tomorrow morning, but right now. He needs to comfort you.

He needed you, and you needed him.

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writeforfandoms · 8 months

Text

Little Talks 3

Find my CoD masterlist

The final part of this entry for Gazfest, hosted by @glitterypirateduck

The team is assembled, and you need to figure out where you fit in.

Warnings: Swearing, roughhousing, zombie au.

Word count: 1.7k

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x f!reader

You woke alone, momentarily confused about where the hell you were.

Until you heard soft voices in the other room, and the events of the day and night previous came rushing back.

You sat up and took a moment to put your face in your hands and just breathe. Kyle was clearly up already. And you had no idea how to feel about any of this.

But you forced yourself upright, getting dressed again. Kyle had left a bottle of water on your bedside table, which you chugged, head throbbing. Probably dehydration.

At least Kyle was looking out for you.

That made you stop in the middle of the bedroom, because he was looking out for you. He was taking care of you.

But you didn’t want to be a burden. Couldn’t be a burden.

So, what could you do in return? Part of that would depend on what the plan was going forward, but… you could cook. Bake. Maybe find some other things to take care of for him. Them. All of them.

One last deep breath to bolster yourself, and then you left the safety of the bedroom to find the others.

They’d gathered in the kitchen, mugs still steaming gently. Coffee, mostly, smelled like. Price spotted you first, gracing you with a small smile and a “morning”. Kyle perked up as soon as he spotted you, getting to his feet.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. “Feeling better?” He kept the words quiet, whispered just between the two of you.

“Better,” you agreed just as quietly, smiling at his clear concern. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Kyle said quickly, pulling you over to the table. “Not interrupting. Soap just got here a bit ago.”

You blinked at the mohawked man grinning at you, hand held out. You shook his hand, giving him your name.

“Aye, I figured. Gaz never shuts up ‘bout ye.”

Kyle scoffed, getting out a mug for you. “I am not that bad!”

“Ye really are,” Soap drawled, humor clear to see in his eyes.

Price sighed, and the other man at the table huffed softly. He had a balaclava on, one hand curled loosely around his mug.

He did not offer to shake your hand, which was fine. “Ghost,” was all he offered.

You returned the nod. You already knew who he was.

Kyle sat again, setting your mug next to his, and pulled you into his lap, since there wasn’t another chair. You squeaked, surprised, but didn’t elbow him.

“So what’s the plan?” Kyle asked, apparently jumping right back into the conversation. You didn’t mind, leaning back a little into him and holding your mug in both hands, letting it warm you.

Price sighed, scratching through his muttonchops before he spoke. “We’re staying put.”

“But–” Kyle immediately started to protest, tensing behind you. He stopped when Price held up one hand.

“This isn’t something we can fix,” Price continued, gaze focusing briefly on you. You just blinked at him, staying quiet. “Travel’s being restricted across the country. Other countries are looking at doing the same. Won’t do anyone any good if we get stuck on a base.”

That settled the other three to a degree, your gaze flitting between them. At your back, Kyle had relaxed a little again.

“Laswell is keeping her ears open, so far no one’s owned up to this one.” Price sighed slowly, leaning back in his seat. “Until we know more, we’re staying put.”

Silence fell in the kitchen as they all absorbed that. You were busy watching them, sipping from your mug absently. Ghost, of course, was the hardest to read, with the mask in the way. Soap looked discontented, but apparently not enough to speak up.

Price was the first to speak again, seeming content to leave things there for now. “Soap, Gaz, check the vehicles. There’s another one in the shed.”

Kyle patted your hip, and you got off his lap to let him up. You thought about going with, but Price met your gaze and nodded to the chair again. The back door shut after Soap and Kyle, and you sat again slowly. Without a word, Ghost stood and took his mug with him.

Leaving you and Price alone in the kitchen.

“I understand you had a hard day yesterday.” His voice was a little gentler now, a little quieter.

You snorted. “Zombies was not on my to-do list,” you quipped, looking down at your mug.

He chuckled, leaning forward in his chair. “I also understand that Gaz didn’t offer you options.”

That jerked your gaze to him, and you frowned. “He undoubtedly saved my life,” you pointed out, trying not to be too prickly.

“Still. Early enough you have a choice to make.” Price held your gaze, unflinching.

“What choice?” Your fingers drummed against the side of your mug.

“You can stay here. You could go stay with Soap’s family - they’re good people, they won’t mind. Or I can find somewhere else for you to stay.” Price didn’t look away, didn’t offer anything else.

You narrowed your eyes a little, tipping your head slightly to one side. He’d purposefully gotten you alone to offer, and you knew Kyle wasn’t in on this. “Why?”

He blinked. Just once. “Hm?”

“Why make the offer now?” Your gaze darted to the door when a shout from outside briefly caught your attention. Because you were the outlier here. Not part of the team. Potentially a distraction. Or something to tear Kyle’s attention, or loyalty. Your jaw clenched at your conclusion, but you waited for Price to give you an answer.

He had yet to look away from you, having clearly watched your expression shift. “I’m offering now because you deserve a choice,” he answered. “I know you and Gaz haven’t been together that long. He complained about it when we got called in.”

You breathed slowly, examining him. He didn’t look to be lying, but he probably could lie with a straight face. Hm. “You’re giving me a graceful out.”

“If you like.” He spread his hands out on the table.

You drummed your fingers against your mug again, irritation cooling. “Are you offering for me? Or for Kyle?”

He tipped his head, brow furrowing a little. “Explain.”

You huffed a little at the order, but leaned back slowly, forcing your shoulders down from a defensive hunch. “Are you offering because you think I need a graceful out, or because you’re worried about me distracting Kyle?”

That got him to huff his own little laugh, shaking his head a little. “I’m not worried about Gaz getting distracted.”

You let that sink in, letting the silence settle over the table for a few moments. Your drink was barely lukewarm now, but you still took a sip anyway, giving yourself a moment to consider.

What did you want? Now that the world looked to be going to hell in a handbasket.

“Kyle talked about you, some.” You tapped your mug with one nail. “All of you, really, but. He always spoke highly of you.”

Price raised one eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, further bolstering your opinion of him.

“I don’t want to leave.” You swallowed hard, but refused to let yourself look away. You needed him to see that you were sincere, that you weren’t just bluffing your way through this. “I know I’m not prepared, not like you lot, but I can find things to do. To help.” One deep breath in to bolster your nerves, try to push down the heat of speaking so plainly. It was harder than you’d anticipated. “It’s not an exaggeration to say that Kyle’s the best thing to happen to me in years, and I’m not willing to give him up.”

Price smiled, leaving you startled at the warmth there. “Had a feeling you’d stay,” he murmured. “Gaz talks about you, too.” He huffed a little laugh. “Could think you hung the stars from how he talks about you.”

Face burning, you finally ducked your gaze. “Yeah, well. He’s being too flattering.”

“Hm.” Price tapped the tabletop twice, pulling your gaze back to his. “He also mentioned you cook.”

That made you chuckle, relaxing a little. “Yeah, I’m not bad in the kitchen. I like baking more, but I can cook.”

“I can’t,” he admitted frankly. “Might just leave you in charge.”

“I can do that.” You couldn’t deny that you perked up a little. You liked having something to do, some way to help. Especially these four.

Price huffed in amusement and finally stood, taking your mug for you. “If there’s anything you need, you let me know.”

You tipped your head, watching him for a moment as something Kyle had told you about Price came to mind. Maybe you shouldn’t, but… Well. You were going to be with them for who knew how long. If you couldn’t have a little fun with them, you’d very quickly be miserable.

The back door opened again, Kyle and Soap tromping back inside. Perfect.

“No wonder Kyle says you’re the team dad.”

Price fumbled the mug he was washing, and both Kyle and Soap sounded like they were choking behind you. A bark of laughter from elsewhere in the house made you realize you had no idea where Ghost was.

Eavesdropping, apparently.

“Fuckin’ muppets,” Price grumbled, half-turning to glower past you at Kyle.

“What else did he say?” Soap slid up next to you with a twinkling grin, ignoring the warning noise from Kyle.

“Oh, you know.” You couldn’t resist the urge to continue teasing. “The usual. Don’t get involved in a land war in Asia, and don’t start a prank war with the Scot.”

Soap threw his head back to laugh, draping one arm over your shoulders to shake you affectionately. “Ah, hen, we’ll have a right grand time.”

You just grinned, gaze focused on Kyle. “We’ll be fine,” you agreed.

Kyle smiled, scooping you out from under Soap’s arm to pull you into a hug. “Told you, love,” he murmured into your ear, ignoring the Scottish squawking with the ease of long practice. “I’ll take care of you.”

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 7 months

Text

Bragging Rights (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: Smut

Word count: ~9k

Summary: Jimin and Jungkook are your best friends, which means they trust you to judge all of their stupid little contests. It just so happens that their contest this time is to see who is better at sex. And you’re the neutral party.

Warnings: Pwp, Threesome (No Jimin x Jk), oral (m & f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, slight dom!Jk and dom!Jimin, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), penetrative sex, creampie, sloppy seconds, I’m going to hell

(A/N): Jungkook has been fucking everyone up recently so I wanted to do something with him in it. I left the ending open ended so you get to choose who won in the end (though I personally think Jungkook won) so I hope you all have fun reading! Enjoy~

You have always been able to expect the antics of your best friends. Though you can never predict what they’ll do next, it’s never a surprise as everything is just par for the course at this point. Except for this.

Your jaw lay strewn about the floor alongside the last of their brain cells apparently, your sanity shattering with one question.

“Would you be willing to fuck both of us?“ the question came from a shameless Jungkook, who is known for saying out of pocket shit without context. But this goes beyond anything you’ve experienced before. He says this like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if he were asking to borrow your phone charger or if you wanted to play video games with them. Jimin chimes in to explain and you hope it’s to say that they were just joking.

“We need someone to judge who’s better at sex and you’re the only neutral party we know.” He also says this candidly, though he has the sense to look at least a little sheepish about it, and you can only stare blankly at the two men, looking between them both with your mouth open. You’re still waiting for someone to laugh.

“You serious?” You finally speak up when the silence becomes too dense, your voice hoarse with disbelief. They nod. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck them— they were both strikingly attractive— but they’re your best friends. You’re sure this would break every rule about friendship with the opposite sex that there’s ever been. How would you ever be able to hang out with them normally again after knowing what their dicks look like, what they taste like, how it feels to have their hands all over you?

But there’s a large part of you that’s tempted to say yes.

“You can always say no, there’s no pressure,” Jungkook chirps, “but it would really help us settle this argument.” You don’t even want to ask how this started. “Plus! It’ll be good for you too because you haven’t gotten dick in a while. You get your needs met and we get to settle our argument, it’s a win-win!”

“The fuck? Who says I haven’t gotten dick in a while?!” You defend, mouth hanging open for a different reason now.

“You!” Both men respond in unison, forcing you to slouch back into the sofa.

“We can tell you’ve been horny by the way you’ve been eye fucking every man that walks by, don’t try to deny it. You should know we know you better than that by now.” Crossing his arms, Jimin calls you out and you can’t even say anything because he’s right. Dammit, they do know you well.

“It’s not my fault Baekhyun is out of town for the month.” You mutter under your breath, referencing your friend with benefits that they hear about often. “Fine, you caught me. I’m horny as fuck-“

“Great, so it’s settled! You’ll fuck us?” Jungkook cuts in.

“I never said that. I’m horny as fuck but I’m not that horny to throw away our friendship over a stupid argument between you idiots.” It sounds like you want to say more so they wait, but when nothing follows Jimin speaks up.

“Well can you at least think about it? It won’t change anything on our end, we promise.”

“Sure I’ll think about it, but don’t be surprised if the answer is still no.” They both nod, accepting that answer for now, and you call them over to the couch to play Mario Kart to take your mind off things.

A few hours later, however, you find out just how weak you are.

You were absolutely wrong. You are that horny. You’ve been wet ever since they proposed the idea to you and it’s only getting worse. They sandwich you between their bodies on your small loveseat, their body heat engulfing you in flames that you can’t escape no matter how much you shift around. They don’t try to persuade you any more than their initial proposition, at least not intentionally. You keep catching glimpses of them shifting their legs, the gray and black sweatpants Jungkook and Jimin sport, respectively, not helping your situation as you keep seeing the outlines of their dicks through the thin material. Everywhere they touch you is burning hot, your elbows, your thighs, your shoulders, and you begin breaking into a sweat. The grunts and sighs that come from Jungkook when he makes a mistake or falls behind in the game make your heart skip, your brain going into overdrive imagining the sounds he would make for you if he were to have his way with you. Jimin isn’t much better, letting his hand drape across your thigh when you throw a leg over his to try to cool down a bit. He’s not doing anything that he wouldn’t usually do, this is common for the three of you, but now you can’t stop thinking about how it would feel if he moved his hand just a bit higher, slipping them under your shorts…

“Yes!!” You shout as you manage to win the last race by some miracle. You come in second overall, an NPC getting the first slot, but you’re better than both of them at Mario Cart and that’s all that matters. Jungkook comes third and has a pout on his lips, upset that he had been winning the entire time but was caught by 3 shells in the last race which took his ranking down below yours. You hop up from the couch, fidgety and flustered, claiming that you need to go to the bathroom, and when you return, you find both men manspreading on the coach looking down at their phones. Your eyes immediately shoot to their crotches, nearly drooling at the ache that forms in your core.

“Need something?” Jimin asks, catching you redhanded with a smirk. He’s so fucking cocky you want to scream, but more prominent is the urge to get down on your knees in front of him and choke yourself on his cock like this view is choking you now. You can hardly breathe, let alone come up with a response.

“I- I-“

“Take your time.” He goads, getting the proper reaction from you as you feel your skin start to prick with heat and annoyance. Jungkook joins in by spreading his legs just a little wider, a shit eating grin on his lips as well.

“You guys are the worst,” Finally you spit out a sentence and plop down between them, head in hands. “So why am I seriously considering this?” You mumble out, voice muffled by your hands but they hear it all the same.

“Really?!” They perk up at this, dark brown hair atop their heads flopping over their eyes, and when Jungkook shakes his head to flip it off of his forehead you nearly wet yourself. Jimin chooses to brush his hair away with his fingers and that snaps the last of your reservations.

You decide to ask one more time for good measure, though you couldn’t care less at this point. “Are you sure this won’t change anything between us?”

The two men think for a moment, looking at each other for certainty before reassuring you that it wouldn’t.

“Plus, we already know you basically sold your pussy to Baekhyun by now, we don’t have a chance in hell to do this again once he gets back.” You know what Jungkook means, but he makes you sound like a prostitute when he says it like that.

“Ew don’t say it like that! And he doesn’t own me, I can do whatever and whoever I want.” Crossing your arms in defiance, you try your hardest to make it seem convincing, but they clearly don’t believe you. Although, Baekhyun’s spot might be threatened once you go through with this.

“Yeah right.” Jimin quips, rolling his eyes, and Jungkook chuckles at that. Then the two of them close in on you.

“So are we doing this?” The younger one asks, imploring with innocently wide eyes as if he were asking for a cup of juice and not a threesome with his best friends. You turn away from his stare out of embarrassment, only to be met with Jimin’s equally innocent eyes, so you divert your own gaze to the floor to keep the remnants of your sanity intact.

“I guess we are,” you mutter out, but that isn’t good enough for them.

“Nuh uh, we need a clear ‘yes’ from you if you want this.” A hand reaches out to grab your chin, and you’re suddenly faced with Jimin again, his dark eyes no longer innocent. It steals the breath from your lungs and you have to swallow the nervous lump in your throat to get your answer out.

“Y-yes, I want this.” You say this as loudly as your voice would allow (which isn’t very loud) and a satisfied grin plasters itself on your best friend’s angelic face.

Without replying, Jimin leans forward and kisses your cheek, measuring your reaction with eyes that search your face for any sign of discomfort. But instead he finds that you are more than willing to go through with this, your eyes begging for his lips, so he happily obliges. Claiming your mouth as his own, Jimin kisses you senseless, taking the lead by sucking your bottom lip between his own, and you moan at the action. It’s sloppy and passionate in a way that makes it feel like he’s been waiting to kiss you like this forever, and you find yourself losing your breath rapidly. Hands find your midsection and you suddenly remember Jungkook on the other side of you, leaning forward to leave a trail of kisses on your upper back and shoulders, pulling at the spaghetti straps of your tank top.

Jimin finally pulls back to breathe, allowing you to turn to face the younger man, and immediately you can see the urgency in his eyes once you’re facing him. His hands are creeping up your shirt, exploring your soft abdomen, and the ticklish feeling has you smiling a goofy smile. He smiles back, taking the material of your shirt into his hands and lifting, and your shirt hits the floor in no time flat. That’s when both boys realize that 1. you’ve forgone a bra and 2. You have the most beautiful breasts they have ever seen. The cool air of your living room causes your nipples to harden and you shiver, not only from the cold but from their hungry stares as they devour you with their eyes.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook whispers, hand already reaching to hold one of your breasts in his tattooed hand.

“You have the prettiest tits ever.” Jimin compliments, taking the other in his hand as well. The men adjust themselves to get a better view of you as they push you further back into your seat, nodding once to each other before diving in to leave kisses and bruises all over your chest. Jimin goes for your nipple immediately, licking over the bud with a gentle tongue before using his teeth to scrap over the sensitive skin, the contrast making you moan out loud in honest for the first time. He does it again, then again, adding in bites and sucks until your core is throbbing with anticipation for what he’ll do once he gets between your legs.

Jungkook focuses on every area around your nipple, avoiding the area entirely with his mouth and making you ache to feel him on the bud. He sucks loudly on your skin, marking you with teeth and tongue, making slobbery trails of saliva that cool and send goosebumps in their wake once he pulls back. He uses the tip of his tongue to trace circles around your areola, the heat of his breath around your nipple making your eyes squeeze shut in hopes that he’ll take mercy on you and close his lips around the bundle of nerves, giving it the same treatment that Jimin is showing you on the other side. Mind hazy and pussy fluttering, you’re startled when Jimin pulls back to remind you what they’re doing this for.

“Remember (Y/n), you’re supposed to be judging us on who does a better job.” He chides, noticing you lost in pleasure and not thinking about a single thing.

“Oh, sorry, let me just stop enjoying myself and take notes on a notepad instead.” You quip back at him, irritated that he’s stopped his ministrations on your chest. Jungkook snorts at this, still teasing you. There’s absolutely no way for you to be clinical about this, that much is apparent by how good it feels to have two men attending to you at the same time, your mind already blank and they haven’t even moved past your tits yet.

“I’m just saying, keep that in mind.” Jimin snickers, licking a path from nipple to collarbone to neck, ending with a mind numbing suckle to your pulse point, and just when you thought it couldn’t get much better, Jungkook finally closes his mouth on your nipple, sucking in varying intensities all while flicking his tongue around the bead. You gasp, unsure of who is doing the better job, and you feel like you’re about to explode. But all too soon, as if they can sense you enjoying yourself a bit too much, the men pull away and leave you cold and shaking, topless and exposed on your own couch.

“So, who gets the first point?” Kookie asks, smirking as if he’s already won.

“Point? I didn’t know we were doing a points system?” Gathering your thoughts, you clear your throat and try to bring yourself back to reality. They wanted you to score them? This was going to be tough.

“Yeah, how else would we figure out who’s better? The one with the most points at the end wins and gets bragging rights.” Jimin explains smartly, making you roll your eyes at the sassiness you sense from him.

“So?” They say in unison, looking at you intently. Your hands reach up to cup your chest in response to the coolness they left there as you frown in thought.

“Umm, I really liked Jimin’s technique, but Jungkook wins this round.” You state after some thought, resolving not to think about it too hard so they would hurry up and continue pleasuring you. “I liked how he teased me, it made me want him to touch me so badly that when it actually happened, I nearly creamed my shorts.” He smiles triumphantly at your praise, Jimin nodding his head in acceptance while mentally noting that you like to be teased. Then it’s on to the next round.

The next round takes place in the bedroom, Jimin having announced this loudly while Jungkook swooped down to throw you over his shoulder like a rag doll and carried you to your bed. Now you lay in the center of your queen sized mattress, shorts and panties missing from your body while both men stand with raging erections as they examine you from the foot of the bed. Licking his lips, Jungkook asks who gets to eat you out first and you feel your clit throb. Wordlessly, they both look at each other before each putting out a fist and playing Rock Paper Scissors without hesitation.

“Be so fucking serious right now.” You say in disbelief, unable to believe how you were convinced to have sex with these two dorks. You must have been really horny because looking at them now you’re broken out of the haze of lust and can see that they’re still your goofy best friends, the only people you know who would play Rock Paper Scissors in front of a girl they were about to fuck while she literally lay naked and waiting for them. Jungkook wins the game and does a little dance at his victory, hopping onto the bed suddenly and pushing your legs open. You let out a bit of a yelp at his quick movements, Jimin being much more graceful on his way to take a seat next to your head, moving you so that your head rests on his muscular thigh.

Unlike how he treated your nipple, Jungkook wastes no time attacking your core, using his entire tongue to spread you open, parting your folds and drinking down your leaking essence. He groans at the taste, dipping back down for more, and you shudder at the sensation of his wet muscle circling your entrance. Though the young man is good at everything, you aren’t incredibly impressed by his performance, unfortunately. The whole time he spent down there was wasted on him licking your folds, sucking at your lips and completely missing your clit. The time he did spend on your clit was rushed even though you reacted dramatically when his tongue did brush the bud, and in the end you had to tell him to do what he did on your nipple to your clit for him to catch on that that’s what you wanted. When he did get to what you wanted, however, your legs shook from how good it felt. Jungkook has a very dexterous tongue you’ve discovered, very impressed with its flicking and circling speeds as he finally paid special attention to your most sensitive areas. He adds a finger, then two, pumping them in a out quickly in pace with his tongue, and you let out a loud moan when he gives you a nice suck to your clit, the finale to his show. He pulls back with a sigh, face wet and red and you are left craving, wanting more than he gave you. From the looks of it, he enjoyed the experience marginally more than you did, the large protrusion and wet spot in the front of his sweats giving you the idea that he wanted to eat you out more for his sake than yours. Then Jimin swoops in to the rescue.

He must have seen the slightly annoyed look on your face because when he moves to change spots with Jungkook he gives you a quick peck on the cheek to smooth your frown and chuckles in a way that tells you not to worry. You’re excited this time, looking up at the older man with pleading eyes that are swimming with lust. You lock eyes and the look he gives you is a promise that not only will he make you feel good, but that you’ll cum. You raise an eyebrow as a challenge and he just smirks down at you in response.

“You think you can beat that?” Kookie asks in cocky fashion, clearly feeling good about himself despite his very average performance. Jimin begins his descent down your body, kissing every plane and crevice from your neck down.

“I know I can do better.” He mumbles against your skin, looking incredibly focused on making you feel good.

“I doubt you can make her shake the way I just did, but I’d like to see you try.” Since winning the first round clearly has gone to his head, Jimin resolves to knock him down a peg and let him see what true skill looks like. It’s been over a full minute and he’s still kissing around your thighs, biting on sensitive skin so close to your lips and soothing it with his tongue, kissing the edge of your outer lips and blowing air on your core in a way that makes your thighs tremble around his head. Jimin looks up at his friend when you shake for him as if checking to see if he were watching, using his eyes to say that he made you shake without even touching you. “Whatever,” the younger male says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s only shaking because I got her wound up.”

“Kookie, shut the fuck up.” Your last word comes out as a groan as Jimin finally gives you what you wanted, taking your clit into his mouth and licking around it in a torturously slow oval. The way you moan has both men humming, Jimin grinding his bulge into the edge of the bed. Beside you, Jungkook has his hands down his pants, presumably gripping the now painful erection he sports with his lip locked between his teeth as he watches you get eaten out by his best friend.

Returning your attention to Jimin, you look down to see him watching you, drawing more circles around your bud just to watch you tremble, your hips grinding into him when he refuses to speed up. Occasionally his tongue dips down to taste you, dragging your wetness up from your entrance to your bud, just for it to drip back down again and slide between your ass onto the sheets below. He uses his lips alongside his tongue, dragging the plush pillows against your nub, kissing and sucking between long strokes of his tongue. Then, two of his fingers enter you and you see stars. He curls the fingers expertly into the spongy spot a couple inches into your opening, rubbing against the area repeatedly in time with his mouth and you feel your toes flex and curl. Your voice breaks and you let out another surprisingly loud moan, eyes rolling in your head and Jimin speeds up against your clit. When you continue to moan, he comes up with an idea.

“Kook, can you quiet her down a little?” He asks, and you would be offended by the phrasing if it didn’t feel so good to have him rubbing right into that spot inside you. You’re cursing now, legs lifted higher than before to give Jimin more access, not paying attention to the man beside you who inches closer and raises to his knees. Something hard and fleshy taps you on your cheek, and you open your closed eyes to see Jungkook has slipped his pants down and is kneeling with his cock just inches from your face. Your eyes focus in on his member, both thick and long, and you’re sure Jimin can feel how you clench around his fingers at the sight. His balls are tight and pink, just begging to be sucked, and you find your mouth watering at the prospect.

“Open.” Jungkook instructs, gruff voice prompting you to action. You open your mouth and immediately he slips inside, salty and musky taste invading your tongue in he best way possible. Jimin picks up speed with his fingers, pumping in and out while hooked on that one spot and you can’t help but moan around Jungkook’s cock, barely sucking because of how good Jimin is making you feel. His mouth is relentless and you try to match his pace by bobbing your head to his rhythm, earning a groan from Jungkook. His dick twitches in your mouth when you go deeper, sucking in your cheeks on your way up, and fuck you’ve never felt this good before. Not only is Jimin’s consistent attack on your clit building you up to a great orgasm, but Jungkook is making those wonderful sounds you thought of hearing earlier and it’s music to your ears. “God, your mouth feels so good.” He praises, a hand on the back of your head to guide you when you start to fall out of rhythm as your praise kink kicks into overdrive.

Pushing yourself to your limits, you try deep throating his dick, pressing your face into his pubic bone until his head slips past your gag reflex and he lets out a moan that rivals your own in volume, just as Jimin suctions his lips around your clit. You choke, Jungkook pulling back to allow you to breathe, and he can see the way your eyelids flutter and cross as Jimin works you with his fingers and mouth, no longer pumping in and out but now curling back and forth against that spongy area as he flicks as fast as he can against your bud. The stimulation is close to what your vibrator feels like and suddenly your breaths become labored, panting and moaning, squeezing around his fingers as he builds you up higher and higher. You’re riding his face now at this point, grinding into him messily until you can’t take it anymore.

You hold your breath for the climax and it comes crashing into you.

Hot waves of lava seem to flow through your veins as your orgasm seizes your body, taking control and making you shake and squirm in their hold. Jungkook’s hands roam your upper body, fingertips spreading the fire along your skin with every touch. Jimin stills his fingers to give you broad licks, savoring the way that each stroke causes your legs to jerk and twitch. Fingers find your nipples and give them a gentle twist and you aren’t sure whose hands they are but the way they massage the pebbles has your walls clenching in another wave of pleasure. Taking a few deep breaths, you try to compose yourself, eyes closed and watering, skin hot to the touch. When you open your eyes, you find both men staring at you.

“That was so fucking hot.” Jungkook gapes. You close your eyes again and place a hand on your chest, trying to slow your breathing.

“She’s such a good girl, isn’t she? Cumming for us like that.” Jimin teases, kissing up your thighs and hips. You clench at his praise, the fingers still inside you feeling the contractions. “Oh- I felt that.” Devilish smirk slithering its way onto his lips, Jimin retracts his fingers from you to climb his way up your body. “Does our sweet baby girl have a praise kink?”

“M-Maybe,” you mumble, averting your eyes. Jimin presents his cum soaked fingers to you and places them on your lips, pulling your attention back to him as you open your mouth to suck in the digits.

“I swear you get hotter by the second,” Kookie chimes, looking at you with twinkling eyes.

As soon as his fingers are clean, Jimin pops them out of your mouth and swoops down for a kiss, shoving his tongue against yours to taste the cream you’ve accumulated there, and you feel yourself drip even more down your ass. When he pulls back you watch him lick his lips, savoring the taste.

“So,” Jimin starts, already sporting a shit eating grin. “Care to tell us who won the second round?”

“You.” You say without hesitation. “You did. Fuck, you made me cum so hard.” You whine, rubbing your thighs together as you sit up to be eye level with the two. They look back at you, anticipation filling their blown pupils. “Now, will somebody please fuck me?”

“Sure, who do you want first?” Jimin asks, stripping from his sweats and shirt, and your mouth waters at the sight of him in only his boxers. You find your eyes locked on his body, anticipating the moment when his cock is revealed to you as he puts on a little strip tease, pushing down the waistband as slowly as humanly possible. But once his member pops out of its confines you let out a groan, beholding the most beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. It’s flushed a pretty peach color with the perfect mushroom head on top. The thick shaft tapers slightly toward the head and its skin looks so smooth and velvety that you’re tempted to rub him right between your folds just to feel how soft it is.

“I’m giving Jimin a point for having a pretty dick.” You blurt, unable to tear your eyes away from him. His grin grows into a full blown smile and you hear Jungkook’s sounds of protest beside you before he’s stealing your attention back.

“Oh yeah? Well how about this?” He stands, pants pulled up to their original position you notice, and you wonder what he’s got up his sleeve. Your mouth runs dry when you see what he has planned: a full strip tease show.

Starting with his top, he raises the bottom of his shirt inch by inch so you can appreciate each and every one of his flexed ab muscles, the lines between each one making him look like a chocolate bar that you can’t wait to devour. Next to be exposed are his pecs, the hard muscles there tensing as he crosses his arms above head, pulling the shirt off fully and throwing it to the ground. His nipples stand pebbled into beads on his chest and all you can think about is taking one between your teeth just to see him squirm, knowing just how sensitive they are on him. As if to demonstrate this point, Jungkook uses his fingers to pinch at the buds, and you see the jump of his erection in the confines of his pants when he does. He rolls his neck, showing off the delicate skin there that you wish you could litter with marks but all you can do at the moment is sit there and stare while licking your lips like a hungry cat. When his hands finally skim down his washboard abs to his bulged sweatpants you’re panting like a dog, eager for him to reveal himself to you again and let you feast your eyes on him in all his glory, despite already having had him in your mouth today. But you didn’t get a chance to fully admire him at that time with Jimin’s head between your thighs, so you feel validated in wanted to see him again so badly. He runs his hands over the clear protrusion in his pants, squeezing himself to make the outline of his dick pop out to you, and you find yourself gulping like a fish out of water. Jimin fakes a gag out of the corner of your eye but you choose to ignore him.

“Should I take these off?” Jungkook purrs in a sultry voice, causing you to gush all down your thighs at the way his baritone vibrates through your body. You can only nod.

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” Jimin chants, now seated beside you to watch the show just to mock his junior, and just for the fun of it you join in, cheering like you’re at a strip club when Jungkook’s fingers finally hook in the waistband of his Calvin Klein’s. He pulls them down quickly, his bottom half exposed so fast that it causes his cock to bounce and you nearly bark at how feral the sight makes you.

“Another point to Kookie for the strip tease,” you announce, now hot and bothered from all the teasing. The scores are now tied again. “Now will somebody, anybody please stick their dick in me before I combust? A girl can only wait so long.”

“Getting desperate are we?” Chuckles Jimin, dark and mischievous.

“Yes, I’m so wet right now that I feel like I’m going to drown if I’m not fucked within the next minute.” You pout, making your best friends laugh.

Jungkook still stands at the foot of the bed, languidly pumping his length up and down and your eyes catch on his slick tip, leaking enough to let you know that he’s getting impatient too. A glance down at Jimin’s member reveals the same thing, a stream of precum dribbling down his twitching length that sits prettily between his thick thighs. He cranes his neck forward to kiss you on your pouted lips, and you sink into the bed, pulling him on top of you. He catches himself with his arms, staring down at your wanting figure.

“You get to fuck me first since Kookie got to eat me out first.” A groan comes from said man, his head thrown back in frustration, hand speeding up on his shaft yet intentionally avoiding the head. “Don’t complain, you’ll get your chance.” You assure him, returning your attention to Jimin to kiss him again. His tongue slips into your mouth and clashes with your own, exploring your mouth and leaving you breathless. You have no idea how long you spend kissing him, but you’ll have to remember to give him a point for being a good kisser when you can finally pull away. Before you can pull yourself away from him, however, you feel his tip at your entrance rubbing back and forth, slicking himself before pushing in slowly, his pillowy lips muffling the long moan you let out.

He breaks away to pant, “You’re still on birth control, right?” And you let out a huff.

“It’s a little late to ask, idiot.” Jungkook points out, positioned so he can get the perfect view of your pussy being stretched around Jimin’s thick cock.

“Yeah I am, don’t worry about it.” You breathe, bucking your hips up to tell him you want him to move. He starts up a pace that has you gasping, surprised by how easily he hits your sensitive spots with his girth, and he has you moaning your pleasure in no time. You’re sure he can feel how wet you are, the sounds of wetness and slapping getting louder as he fucks the slick out of you with every harsh thrust, making his shaft so slippery that you’re sure he’s going to slip out every time he pulls back. But he stays inside, hips skillful and practiced as he drives into your tight entrance. You don’t think you’ve had anyone as thick as him before and the thought of him stretching you out around himself makes you squeeze even tighter, causing him to groan out.

“Don’t squeeze like that, I’m already close.” Jimin’s voice comes out strained as his balls slap against your ass, his face saying that he’s telling the truth, and you hear a laugh.

“Already?! Seriously, hyung?” The youngest gapes, though you suspect he’s probably glad that his turn is coming sooner than expected. He’s stopped touching himself and his cock is now half soft, though it still jumps every now and again as he watches Jimin fuck you even harder.

“Shut up, I almost blew my load when she came on my tongue so I’m lucky we even got this far.” Jimin grunts, pounding into you. He pauses to lift one of your legs onto his shoulder, working a pillow under your hips and the new angle makes you mewl. Static electricity flows through your veins every time he pushes into you, aiming right at that spot and you feel your clit swelling with pressure from how good it feels.

“C-can I touch myself?” You ask softly, though you’re not sure exactly where that came from. But now you’ve reignited the dominant side of Jimin and he changes right before your eyes.

“Mm, aren’t you such a good girl, asking permission.” He moans, hips picking up speed. “Should I let her, Jungkook?”

The younger man shifts in his position to get a better view before answering. “Yeah, I bet she’d look so good doing it.” He groans, eyes locked on you. He’s devouring you with his gaze, taking in everything from your facial expression and your bouncing breasts to the way your slick covers Jimin’s shaft every time he pulls out. It makes you hot being watched like this and you never thought you’d enjoy it so much. Having a spectator makes you feel sexy in a way you didn’t think possible.

“You heard him, baby. Touch yourself.” Leaning back so you have access to your swollen clit, Jimin slows his pace just slightly as you reach down and touch yourself. At first contact you shiver, still sensitive from the previous orgasm you had. The first circle you press into the bud has you clenching down on him again, and this time he has to stop and grip onto your hips to keep control. Immediately you pull your hand back, not wanting him to cum so soon, but he shakes his head at you.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep going.” He pants, both men now staring down at you with predatory gazes. Humming, you continue, slicking your fingers with the mess around his base and rubbing it into your clit at a satisfying speed. To be watched while you masturbate awakens a new kink of yours and you bask in the way your boys practically water at the mouth while looking at you. Jimin starts moving again and each drag of his cock sends sparks up your nerves like live wire, the movements making you that much more sensitive beneath your fingertips. Your eyes start to roll as he times his hips with your flicking. He switches to grinding motions and you moan, loving how you can feel his leaking tip massaging deep within you. “Fuck, I’m going to cum.” Jimin gasps, snapping into you with renewed vigor.

“I want you to cum inside me!” You whine, feeling him harden even more inside you. Your other leg finds its way up on his shoulder and you allow him to pound into you with all his strength, his ab muscles flexing as he works himself in and out of you.

“Yeah, you want it?” He asks, looping his arms around both of your legs. All you can do is nod before he’s fucking into you ferociously, his grunts and groans of pleasure mixing with yours until you can’t tell who is louder. Fingers leaving your core, you hold onto his muscular thighs for dear life as he delivers devastating thrust after devastating thrust, jolting your entire body up the bed at a stuttering rhythm. Then, you feel him still briefly and gasp, his balls on your ass tightening and pulsing as he shoots into you, filling you to the brim with his hot cum. His hips jerk as he soars through his orgasm, spurred on by the way you clench your walls and moan his name because you just love seeing him lost in pleasure like this. It makes you even wetter, and combined with his overflowing semen, you’re a leaking mess.

Jimin gives you a sloppy kiss as the vestiges of his high leave him, pulling himself free from your gripping core to look down at his masterpiece. Jungkook peers over his shoulder to have a look and you take this opportunity to give them a show, bearing down on your pelvic muscles to push out the white substance Jimin so carefully planted inside you. It oozes out of you, mixing with the cream smeared around your lips and you feel it begin to drip down your ass as you continue to push. The sight nearly knocks both men off their feet, the older of the two visibly drooling at the visual of his cum leaking from your tight pussy, evidence of how good you made him feel and the amazing orgasm you gave him. It’s almost enough to get him hard again.

The younger of the men is also enthralled by the sight, mouth agape and eyes wide, leaning in ever closer to get a better look at your drooling lips. Jungkook never thought he’d be one to take another man’s sloppy seconds, but when it’s you and Jimin he feels differently about the situation. And that feeling surprises him because in this moment he wants nothing more than to stick his dick in you and use Jimin’s sperm as lube to help you both reach your highs. So that’s exactly what he does. Nearly pushing Jimin out of the way, Jungkook flips you without warning, pressing your face into the pillows and guiding your hips up into position, manhandling you in a way that makes him even sexier. You never had a strength kink before, but when Jungkook throws you around like this you can’t help but ache between your thighs for him. You’re discovering a lot about yourself tonight.

“Gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” He promises in a mumble, lining himself up with your glistening hole. The first thing he notices is how slippery it is when he pushes in, Jimin’s cum coating his cock and making it easy to slip inside your walls. He bottoms out effortlessly despite how tight you are, hips flush against your ass and fingers dimpling your skin from how hard he grips your ass. Jungkook swears he could cum right this second, but he’s too determined to fuck you into oblivion to have it end so soon so he holds off. But he has to admit, being inside you is an experience he never thought he’d get to have, so his mind is in a daze as his hips start to move.

You’re not fairing much better, thoughts cloudy from his long cock reaching so far into you at this angle that you think you can feel him in your throat. He smacks into your cervix every time he slams into you, but the slight pain only adds to the pleasure after the first few strokes. The arch in your back gradually lessens as Jungkook fucks the living shit out of you, your ass slapping against his hips so loudly that you’re sure your neighbors will be filing a noise complaint, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when you feel his large palms at the small of your back, pushing down to deepen that curve and open you up for him. Ungodly nosies are coming from you as he fucks you at a relentless pace, taut muscles rippling behind you as he uses his strength to wreck you.

“Mm, look at how she’s gripping the sheets, Kookie. I think you might break her.” Jimin comments with a chuckle, spent and a relaxing on the bed next to you.

“Nah she can take it. Isn’t that right (Y/n)?” Jungkook asks, not slowing his pace a bit to give you a second to breathe. You struggle to answer, gasping and moaning as he fucks you dumb on your bed, your toes curling being your only response. When he doesn’t get a verbal answer, the man behind you lands a harsh smack to your ass then grips it in his hands, spreading your pussy lips apart with his thumbs to watch himself go in and out, in and out. “Answer me.”

“Yes, I can take it!” You squeal, stuffing your face in a pillow to contain the sounds escaping you.

“Good girl.” The growl that releases from deep in his throat has your legs shaking, your walls contracting as the vibrations from the sound travel up your insides. “I love feeling you squeeze around me. I could fuck this cunt all day long.” Moaning, he closes his eyes, throwing his head back in bliss.

The grip on your hips tightens painfully before it vanishes completely, and you only have a split second to wonder what happened before another hard slap rings out, this time both of his hands landing on your ass. Both men watch as your cheeks jiggle, still rippling with the impact of his hips, and you faintly hear them groan in unison with your high pitched squeak. After a series of several more untamed thrusts, however, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you cold and empty.

“Turn around.” He orders sharply, barely getting through the haze of your mind. “Let me see that pretty face.”

This snaps you out of your fog and you follow his order shakily, plopping down on your back only to be snatched to the edge of the bed by your legs. You let out a short scream, surprised by the sudden display of his monstrous strength as he positions your legs how he wants, pushing them back against your chest and inserting himself in one long stroke. Your eyes roll before peering up at him, innocent and wanting, and he throbs inside of you at the image, praising you just how you deserve.

“There she is,” he smiles, languidly moving his hips in slow thrusts just so you feel every inch of him. “Look at how sexy she is, hyung. Looking at me with those beautiful eyes while she’s taking my cock. You think she deserves another orgasm?”

“I think she does.” Jimin consents, scooting closer to massage your breasts. His nimble fingers squeeze at your nipple, causing you to mewl as Jungkook picks up the pace. “Let’s see if you have what it takes to make her cum again.” The older of the two challenges, grinning when he sees the tick of Jungkook’s jaw at his doubt.

“Watch and fucking learn, hyung.” Is all he has to say before the competitive man is ramming into you again, fucking you up the bed. He looks down at the mess between your thighs, a frothy mixture of your wetness, Jimin’s cum, and his precum, and just seeing you all sloppy for him has his balls tightening. That mess is the perfect lube, keeping you slick even though he’s practically rubbing you raw with how fast he’s going, the wetness saving your battered pussy from harm.

You already look fucked out. You’re sure your hair is a mess and the little bit of eyeliner you had on is smeared down your face with the tears that collect and fall from your tightly shut eyes. But Jungkook only continues to praise you, going on and on about how pretty you are and how well you take his cock. Your eyes remain shut so you don’t see him reach down to rub his thumb in fast circles around your clit, the stimulation shocking you into opening your eyes to look right at him as he fucks you even harder.

“That’s right, look at me.” He grunts, a look of concentration taking over his handsome face as he focuses on moving his thumb and hips in time with each other. You’ve only seen this look on his face when he’s playing video games and you have to admit seeing him make that face in this context is extremely sexy. It’s like he’s using every cheat code he knows to push all your buttons the right way to win this stupid little game with Jimin, and it’s working. Everything he does pushes you closer to that edge and your mind is going blank with pleasure,

“Did Jimin fuck you this well?” He asks out of the blue, his competitive edge coming out.

“N-no.” You admit sheepishly, breaking eye contact with him to skim your gaze down his body. He looks like a piece of artwork, a living statue of a Greek god with his muscles and veins on full display, highlighted by the sweat that now drips down his skin. He’s definitely racking up bonus points for looking this good, despite you already giving him an extra point for his strip tease earlier. But how can you not be enamored when he looks this damn good. And when he acts so fucking cocky.

“Does Baekhyun fuck you like this?” Comes his next question, hips snapping into you with just a little more finesse. He adds a bit of rotation and you gasp, legs vibrating now from the circles both inside you and on your clit.

“No! No one fucks me like you do—“ you hiccup, clinging to the sheets for dear life.

Hot. That’s all you can think about and feel. It feels like you’re in an oven set to 1000 degrees and your skin is on fire. Sweat pours from every crevice of your body: behind your knees, the folds of your tummy, your elbows, everywhere is damp and dripping. Above you Jungkook isn’t fairing much better, dripping onto you from his chin, but it’s hot when he does it. Warmth spreads throughout your body like a virus.

“God, Kook I’m gonna cum!”

“Yeah?” He asks, out of breath and absolutely shining with arrogance. His thumb presses down on your clit just a tiny bit harder and the added pressure is enough to have you teetering on the edge. “Cum for me. Cum all over this cock, (Y/n). Let me see how good I make you feel.”

As he growls this, Jimin, who has been twirling your nipples, bends down to capture one of the buds in his mouth to tease it with his teeth and tongue. He bites down roughly on the pert peak and that’s all it takes for you to fall into the precipice of your high. It knocks the air out of your lungs, makes you gasp like a fish out of water as you quiver beneath the men, tremors of pleasure traveling up and down your body as Jungkook glares at Jimin for aiding in giving you the high that he selfishly wanted for himself. The oldest grins as you quake, nursing your sore nipple with his tongue as both men ride out your high with their hands all over your body, soothing the tingles that begin to take over from overstimulation. Having both of your boys give you an orgasm with their combined efforts has you floating on cloud nine, and as Jungkook continues to fuck you, you can’t think of anything you want more than to feel him fill you up with his cum to complete the night.

“I’m close.” You hear him whisper, biting down on his lips to stop the moans building in his throat to no avail.

“Please give it to me. Wanna feel it.” You can barely complete your sentences, exhaustion taking over you but still flowing with residual lust.

Jungkook thrusts faster at your words, pushing himself past the limits of fatigue to give you what you want, and one tight squeeze of your walls is what finally sends him over the edge. His fingers dig into your thighs as his hips stutter, slowing his pace but never stopping even though he nearly screams out a moan when he cums. Seeing the veins in his neck bulge as he finds his highest pleasure makes you horny all over again, but your body can’t take any more, thoroughly worn and used by your two best friends.

“Thank him for giving you his cum, sweet girl.” Jimin mumbles against your lips, stealing a peck as Jungkook rides out the last of his orgasm.

“T-thank you for giving me your cum.” You find yourself whining, dazed.

“And for letting you cum.” He adds, kissing you again.

“Thank you for letting me cum, Kookie. It felt soo good.” You smile, closing your eyes as Jimin leans in to make out with you. Though, you all know that Jimin had a hand in both giving you permission to cum and helping you reach your orgasm.

“You were a good girl, you deserved it.” Kookie says as he finally stops moving, collapsing on top of you with his face in your titties.

When Jimin finally pulls away from your lips, there’s a strange look on his face that you can’t quite put your finger on. Somewhere between anticipatory and cocky. Then he speaks and you remember why. “So. Who won?”

You had forgotten about their stupid little game entirely and now you’re going to have to use your fried brain to come up with a winner even though you truly don’t know who you enjoyed the most.

“Well first and foremost,” you begin, “I have to give out the last points.” Jungkook lifts his head to look at you as you glance between the men. “The next point goes to Jungkook.” He fucked you better than you’ve ever been fucked before, but you’d sooner eat glass than to tell him that. Though, you have a feeling he already knows. He gives you a smile and places his head back down where he was comfortable.

“So who wins overall?” Jimin presses, excited to hear the winner. It’s clear he thinks he won but it’s also clear that Jungkook thinks the same.

“I got the most points, it’s me!” He declares, but you hold up a hand to silence him.

“I still haven’t decided who wins the big one: the overall performance point.”

“What!? That’s just something you made up just now to fuck with me. I got the most points so I should be the winner.” Kookie pouts, removing himself from you and watching his cum splatter against your floor as it rushes out of you. You all readjust so that you’re sitting on the bed so you can continue your argument.

“If it was so obvious that you won she wouldn’t need to come up with a whole other point, now would she?” Jimin brings up like a child. “I say the last point is ‘winner takes all’ and whoever she chooses wins the game.”

“If we did that then there wouldn’t be a point to the point system. You can’t just make the points irrelevant now!” Jungkook argues back, your ears hurting from being in the middle of their bickering. You should just flip a coin to end this because it’s embarrassing how seriously they’re taking this.

“I’d say winner takes all is a good idea.” You finally say, still not sure who you’re going to choose. “The points were just there to help me decide who wins overall. Jimin was clearly the winner at foreplay to me, but Jungkook blew my back out, which counts for a lot. That’s not to say that Jimin didn’t wreck my shit with that pretty dick of his or that Jungkook didn’t get me going with his strip tease. And you both gave me an orgasm each so… Gosh, I don’t knowww, you both did so well I can’t decide!”

“Well then just tell us one thing and we’ll let it go,” Jungkook starts, looking over to Jimin and seemingly talking telepathically. Jimin continues the question without missing a beat, which makes you think they really do have telepathy.

“Was fucking us better than fucking Baekhyun?”

You’re shocked by the question, then embarrassed as you realize the answer.

“…Yes.” Both of them individually were better than your friend with benefits, and combined was just an otherworldly experience.

“Good shit, that’s all I needed to know.” Kook says, hopping up from the bed.

“Let’s call this one a draw.” Jimin reaches his hand out and shakes hands with his friend like they weren’t just arguing, then he too jumps from the bed, walking toward the bathroom.

“Wait, you really don’t want to know who won?” You call after them.

“Nope, we’ve got something else to brag about.” Jungkook responds, sending you a wink from the doorway. Realizing that they intend to tell the rest of their friends and potentially Baekhyun about tonight’s escapades, you leap to your feet shakily and shuffle after them, frowning at the way they laugh at your inability to walk.

“Like hell you do! You better not mention this to anyone, you fuckers!”

#jimin smut #jungkook smut #jimin x reader x jungkook #bts smut #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #jeongguk #Jimin #jeongguk x reader #jungkook

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cottonlemonade · 28 days

Text

How You Met

word count: 1062 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers, swearing once, cause Atsumu, mentions of academic pressure/anxiety

____________________________________________

You sighed when you caught a glimpse of the unyielding gray sky out the library window. Lunch at your favorite café had lifted your spirits a little but did nothing to the overall feeling of anxiety that always came and went throughout the semester.

You felt around in your bag to make sure you packed an umbrella and tried not to think too much about the things you would rather be doing right now than sitting here and revising your notes. Listless and your head filled with melancholy, you stayed at the library for another hour, mostly on your phone, unable to concentrate on the neatly written cue cards, before finally throwing in the towel and packing up to leave.

When you stepped outside the air felt heavy but at least there was no rain yet.

You texted your friends that you had given up on academics for the day and were on your way back home, trying not to sound too miserable and eventually reached the bus stop, joining the many other commuters, all chatting or quietly glued to their phones. Finding a spot towards the end of the line you stood next to a tall guy, dressed in all black, a mask and cap covering his face and hair. After living in Tokyo for quite some time you had grown accustomed to people like him, those who so clearly didn’t want to be recognized or just wanted to pretend to be someone important or mysterious or all of the above.

Deep in thought about the possibility of dropping by your friend’s place to cuddle her dog for a while to cheer you up, you didn’t notice the wall of rain coming your way at first.

You ducked your head, hectically rummaging around for the umbrella. When you wanted to open it, however, the top just popped off, flying uselessly off the handle onto the road where a passing van swiftly dragged it along.

For a second or so you just stood there, handle in hand, watching the umbrella top disappear in traffic, not even slightly slowing down the cars.

Your mood turned from surprised to sour and you raised your hands to at least protect yourself a little, even though you were already drenched by the thick splattering drops and spray from the cars.

And just as you were contemplating that you might as well start to cry now, unnoticed in the downpour, the rain suddenly stopped, or at least for a confusing second you thought it did. The masked guy next to you had stepped to the side so that his umbrella was covering you now as well.

You gaped at him.

"Thank you.", you said, grateful, but not quite able to keep your voice steady.

He gave you a puzzled look upon the voice crack and even through the tumult of the cars whooshing past and the rain hammering onto the roof of the bus stop and his umbrella, you could hear him smirk.

"No problem.", he replied, somehow managing to sound indifferent, self satisfied and curious all at once.

He was quite a bit taller than you and a few blond strands protruded from his cap over the otherwise dark undercut.

And then, as he felt you staring, he leaned back a bit to expose a giant poster ad running on the side of the bus stop, showing a glorified action shot of a young man with a blond undercut, hitting a volleyball. In bold letters it read Black Jackals Miya Atsumu. You frowned at first, then understood and offered a politely impressed smile which he apparently took as you being too stunned to speak in his presence. He gave a nonchalant shrug as if to say “Yes, indeed it is I.”

You were sure your friend had told you about him. The name looked familiar. And judging by the poster he was just as handsome as she described. Didn’t she say he was one of the best setters in all of Japan or something?

“Hey, uhm, this is gonna sound weird, but I have a friend who is a fan of yours - I think.”

“Friend, huh?”, Atsumu looked you up and down, his mask hiding the grin he wore as he appreciated how your wet clothes clung to your plump figure.

“Yes, a friend. Would you mind giving me an autograph for her?”

He nodded and pulled a pen from his pocket, patiently waiting for you to retrieve a notebook from your backpack. You flipped to a free page and held it out to him.

“What’s yer “friend’s” name?”, he asked.

You began spelling the characters. He paused, frowning. “That’s a Japanese name.”

You nodded. “It is.”

“But ya don’t… look… Japanese.”, he said, confused.

Now it was your turn to knit your brow. “I… don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Wait, this ain’t for ya?”

“No? It’s for my friend.”, you assured him with a quite adorable little chuckle and he felt heat rising in his cheeks.

Oh.

“Oh! Right… Uhm.” Atsumu looked down at his phone number and the (in his opinion) clever pick up line he had begun to write underneath.

Clearing his throat he flipped to a new page and dedicated a signature to your friend, then turned back to the page he started on. Eh, he might as well. “Ya should come to our next match. I’ll dedicate a serve to ya, if ya do.”

You looked like you had no idea what that meant but, wait. Did you… did you blush? Shit, did that actually work?! He quickly finished his first signature and handed the book back to you. A bus pulled up.

“Hope to see ya around.”, he said cooly and gave you an encouraging nod to get on, which, in a daze, you did, still holding on to the handle of the broken umbrella.

Mercifully, you found a seat by the window, directly above him, only able to see the top of his umbrella now. He lifted the brim.

For a moment he looked at you, weighing, considering.

Then he brought his hand to his mask and pulled it down just low enough so you could see the cocky smirk that accompanied a wink.

As the bus pulled out of the station and merged into traffic you realized that it was going the wrong way.

____________________________________________

part 2

#atsumu x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu x reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #atsumu fluff #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu

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mirage-aera · 4 months

Text

•°. *࿐ Claim me

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

Keegan Russ x Reader

Synopsis: You're known to be lost in your books and their fantasies whenever you're off duty. When word gets out that you've finally found a boyfriend who is not a character, no one believes you. So Keegan makes himself known as your boyfriend to stop the soldiers from bothering you any longer. Word count: 938 Masterlist

Inspired by a little TikTok of @ lockgan. He cosplays as Keegan, so for my Keegan girlies you should check him out! 👀

Surprisingly it’s a quiet day at Fort Santa Monica. You’re not needed to patrol the walls surrounding the base and the Federation has been quiet today. The soldiers are noticeably more relaxed and easygoing. They get to sit back and poke fun at each other. But that also means lips are looser around the base. You decide to not take part in their gossip, instead, you spend your time on your beloved books. Finally being able to catch up on lost reading time. If Keegan wasn’t still busy then you would’ve opted to spend some time with him, but understandably he’s a busy man.

You haven’t gotten together for long. At most, it’s been a couple of months. But you can already see yourself grow old with him, despite all of the difficulties you’ll face. Apparently, word has gotten out that you have recently gotten a boyfriend. They don’t know yet who, so that has been the talk around Fort Santa Monica. People can’t believe that you, a bookworm, have gotten a boyfriend. You’ve approached Keegan with this, you've told him that if he’s bothered by rumors swirling around you, you can set your foot down and tell them who your boyfriend is. He just laughed and said, ‘let them find out who your boyfriend is. They’ll find out sooner or later. The base is quite small.’ He winked at you before resuming his duties, which left you a flustered mess. Not used to his ways of teasing you.

You sit in the common room with a few other soldiers. So engrossed in the book you’re reading, you don’t notice them calling out to you. Eventually one of them stomps over to you, annoyed that you aren’t paying them any attention over your book. “Hey! Are you deaf or something?!” He says exasperated while grabbing the book out of your hands. You look up at the person in annoyance, “I was reading that! Give it back!” He scoffs in response, “now you acknowledge me.” You look at him confused. He gives you a look and puts the book back down on the couch, “we’ve been trying to get your attention for minutes!” He waves his arms around in annoyance while motioning to his buddies. You sigh, “sorry. What do you want?” You ask curtly. Wanting to get back to your book as soon as possible. What you have failed to see is that Keegan has come looking for you. He’s leaning on the doorframe leading to the common room, watching your exchange with the other soldiers. Ready to intervene if necessary.

The soldier smirks at you, “I heard you have gotten a boyfriend.” He states as if it’s some sacred information. You raise an eyebrow, “I do.” You deadpan. He laughs, “so, why haven’t we seen him yet?” You chuckle, “you’ve seen him around I reckon.” At your comment, he raises an eyebrow. Getting ready to speak before getting interrupted by one of his buddies. “Are you sure he exists?” He asks snickering. You frown at him, “yes. He does exist.” Getting fed up with this stupid interrogation. “Now I would like to get back to my book if you’re done.” You state them. Subtly telling them to fuck off. The soldier who took your book from you looks at it, “I bet it’s just another one of your fantasies. He’s your book boyfriend isn’t he?” He chuckles as he points to the book. You glance at the book before scowling at him. “My boyfriend. Is real. Thank you very much.” You spit out. They all laugh at how bothered you’re getting by their taunts. “Just admit it. It’s all in your head.” The other speaks up. Just as you’re about to retort to his statement. You see a figure crossing across the room, standing in front of you protectively. Keegan.

“What’s going on here?” He says with his arms crossed. The one who grabbed your book speaks up, “we’re asking her about her so-called ‘boyfriend’. Who is clearly not real.” He smirks. Keegan lets out a dry chuckle, “her boyfriend?” The soldiers nod in unison. He narrows his eyes at them, giving them a cold look. “I’m the boyfriend. Do I look real, soldiers?” He states coldly. The way those men tense up and freeze at Keegan’s words is a sight for sore eyes. You let out a small chuckle. “I asked you something.” He says impatiently. As if they are being reprimanded by higher-ups they straighten up, “yes sergeant.” One of them stutters out. Keegan smirks at their demeanor before dropping it. “Get lost. If you pull this shit I again. I will hear about it. I will find you. And give you something to cry about.” He says menacingly. Even this got you surprised. You can’t imagine how they feel after hearing that. They all give him a quick salute before scrambling off.

You place a hand on his shoulder blade. He turns around to face you. He pulls you into his chest by your waist, kissing your forehead. He pulls away and looks into your eyes with a possessive look. “Claim. Me.” Two words. Two simple words that make your knees weak. Two words for one sentence, ‘tell them who your boyfriend is’. That is what he’s trying to convey to you. You feel your face getting slightly warm to the touch. You look into his eyes with love. “You’re mine.” You tell him. Two words for a simple sentence, ‘Keegan Russ is my boyfriend’. He smiles at your words, understanding what you are trying to say.

“I’m yours sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”

#cod #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan p russ #keegan russ #cod keegan #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan #keegan x reader

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foli-vora · 10 months

Text

run to you: ch.6

A/N: and we're back! originally thought this would be out last week but i couldn't shake the feeling that it needed more so i delayed it a little and sure enough, an extra 4k words came out lmao. we get a lot more of marcus' POV with this chapter which is nice to write, and some more flashbacks that make my heart hurt. let me know what you think! enjoy angels! x

P.S i've been god awful at replying to reblogs and comments lately but i just want you to know that i treasure you all so damn much, and i read every bit of feedback left again and again and i swear i could cry with how much you all mean to me, so thank you for taking the time to read this story and leave me kind words - forever will appreciate you beauties ❤️

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 6.6k (i hope this makes up for the wait lmao)

Warnings: angst (obviously), swearing, Patrick Jane is a warning, heartbreak, lots of talk of lies and the undercover job, a very brief moment of softness, talk of murder and descriptions about the circumstances, vague description of a bullet wound, talk of death, jealous!marcus is being birthed LMAO sir u have no right

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The room is blurry.

You’re highly aware of how you pace like a caged lion outside his closed office door but simply can’t find it in you to still your anxious limbs. You catch the bright green eyes following your movements from across the room, but you struggle to hold his gaze longer than a second in fear of what you’d find swimming in them.

Surely Jacob must know now after the meeting. He’d know it’s your fault. Is he angry? Does he see you differently now? People are dead because of you and your mistake. You should’ve known better than to get caught up on the history you and Marcus share, and now you’re going to have to pay for it. You’ll have to carry those lives on your shoulders for the rest of your life.

It’s bitter.

The tears are hot when they spill over your lash line and track down your cheeks, but you’re quick to wipe them away and instead focus on the ceiling, blinking wildly in hope to calm the sting of more.

What are you going to say? What can you say?

There’s very little that would make up for this. A simple sorry wouldn’t cut it. There’s the promise of doing better next time, but would he believe you? Would he even let you stay on the case? You don’t know exactly when you started caring so much about it all—hell, you didn’t even want to be here in the first place, but now? You feel like you’re doing something, something good and worthwhile, and it feels nice after the hell ride the last couple of years had been.

You were on the right side now, but apparently you didn’t belong here.

God, what are you going to say?

You don’t get much more time to think about it. The door is wrenched open and the agents that had been speaking to him privately step out, giving you a small nod in greeting before wandering off and finally giving Marcus the opportunity to see you standing there waiting, glued to that spot on the worn carpet.

Frozen. You’re frozen, unsure of whether to say hello or goodbye, or skip straight to the apologies that are building on your tongue.

His eyebrows raise in obvious surprise as he falters in the doorway, obviously not expecting you of all people to be waiting for him, and you see the quick flutter of something unidentifiable through his eyes.

For a moment, nothing is said, but then the words fall from your lips in a panicked burst—

“It’s my fault.”

The expression of shock quickly gives way to confusion, and his eyes bounce between yours in an effort to follow your train of thought.

“What is?”

“The murders… it’s my fault, isn’t it? I did something wrong. God, Marcus, I—I’m sorry, I swear I’ll do better—”

He wordlessly steps aside during your little ramble and you take the silent offer of entering his office, anxiety growing with the click of his door closing behind you. You start to pace again, your heart beating thickly in your throat. Your mind races with the what ifs, and how he’ll go about dismissing you from the case.

Are you in trouble? How much? Have you pissed off the FBI higher ups? Are they sick of you? Is it enough for them to just throw you back into jail and forget about your silly little existence?

A chill creeps along your spine and you start to feel sick.

No.

No, he wouldn’t do that. Not again.

He said to trust him. He said he wouldn’t.

Would he?

“Please don’t send me back,” you beg softly, eyes filling at the mere idea of that tiny cold cell you called home for far too long and his face only creases further as you start to shake, “I promise I won’t make any mistakes again, I just—please, Marcus, I-I can’t go back—”

“Just… just stop,” he demands quietly, stepping forward with one hand perched on his hip and the other held out in an attempt to soothe your trembling voice, “I need you to sit down. Now, please.”

Sit down? How could you possibly sit down? You can’t, not when you’re shaking like this. You don’t think you’d even manage a single step with the fear running along your nerves like it is.

He obviously sees the state you’re quickly falling into and comes closer, hauling the visitor's chair out from beneath his desk and sliding it right up to you. He keeps a hand raised to your arm as you slowly lower into it, palm never touching you but lingering just a short distance away should you really start to break down and have your legs give out from beneath you.

Marcus drags his own chair out and slides it around his desk before stopping in front of you and taking a seat quietly. He gives you a moment, clearly studying the tears that run down your cheeks with a deepening frown before he leans forward, bracing his forearms along his thighs and looking up at you with a slight shine of concern.

“What’s going on?”

He must want you to say it, to own up to your mistakes and give him the satisfaction of watching you crumble. Didn’t he get enough of that the first time?

You sniff pathetically, looking at him with a slight scowl.

“You know what’s going on. I’m not an idiot, Marcus.”

He shakes his head, “No. No, you’re not. So, can you tell me what happened? Why do you think you’re at fault for the murders?”

“That guy out there,” you mumble, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve and recalling the pressed light grey three piece suit, “he said the buyers knew that the painting was a fake, and that’s why they were killed. They knew it was a fake, Marcus, so I didn’t do a good enough job to—”

He silences you again with a flash of his hand and you swallow the desire to snap at him for it. He presses further, eyes locked with yours and you almost feel like you’re in an interrogation with how focused they seem to be. Determined.

“What guy?”

“The consultant,” you mutter quietly, “uh… Patrick, I think it was?”

The change is immediate. He sits back in his chair and looks away, almost angry. No, he is angry, but it’s not at you. He glances at the door with a small roll of his jaw before he sighs sharply and shakes his head. The usual warmth in his gaze has turned molten hot with his irritation and you can’t seem to look away.

What the hell is his problem?

“Don’t listen to a single word that comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t get to just walk in here and start acting like he knows everything about this case because he doesn’t.”

The bitterness in his voice comes as a shock.

You feel it play across your face, your eyes darting over his tightened expression in search of answers. He clearly doesn’t like the consultant, but why? You’d assume the FBI would be tight with anyone they chose to work with, and Marcus seemed to be friendly with his co-workers. He’s a damn good agent, you know that for a fact, so what’s the issue?

Maybe it’s the case—he must be stressed. Is it dragging longer than he anticipated? Had there been a lot of bumps along the road? Was this Patrick guy making it difficult?

Marcus sighs quietly, shifting in his seat and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Look, there’s a lot of reasons this could’ve happened, okay? It’s not your fault at all. They may have already had some issues, there could’ve been bad blood from a previous deal, they could’ve asked for more than what was arranged, they might've refused to go through with the deal… we don’t know, but I don’t want you to put this on yourself. It’s not your fault.”

Staying quiet, your teeth pinch and pick at the soft skin of your inner bottom lip. How can he say that if he doesn’t know? He just said himself that there are a lot of reasons, so how does he know for sure that you’re not the reason for this happening?

It has to be you.

"Look at me," he says softly, and your eyes fly up to meet his automatically. They’re cooler now, calmer. "It's not your fault, okay?”

It takes a moment, but eventually, you give a shallow nod.

The worry slowly eases, and as much as a part of you wants to keep placing the blame on your shoulders because that’s all you deserve, it’s not as strong as the pure sincerity emanating from him.

For once, you find yourself not doubting him. You’re not the reason people have been killed. You’re not in trouble. You’re not going back to prison.

Relief.

It’s comforting, sweet and warm, and spreads out from the back of your hand. It’s not relief, it’s him. You feel the rough surface of his palm on your skin, his thumb brushing soft reassuring strokes back and forth, and it’s only then you realise his hand is covering yours.

How long has it been there?

You study the way it looks, taking a moment to recall the past touch of something similar, something just as warm and reassuring and suddenly your throat feels thick. You hate that it feels nice, that it feels familiar, even after so long.

For a brief, brief second, you allow it, mind hazy and heart aching with the flood of memories and the ghost of fingers along your body, lips beneath your ear… but it’s not him. It’s not Alex.

You pull your hand out from under his and Marcus immediately recoils, hand clenching into a tight fist as he brings it to rest on his lap.

A chill creeps over the back of your hand from the loss of warmth and you pull your sleeve down to cover it.

“I’m sorry for anything Jane said. If I had known he’d say something like that, I would’ve spoken to you beforehand. I’ll uh… I’ll get Agent Wilson to take you home. I need him back at the office to dive into what evidence Teresa’s team has given us, and you can get some rest.”

“Sounds good,” you murmur, slightly thankful you wouldn’t have to return to your workspace with the slight ache building in your temples. You feel for Jacob, who’s probably about to endure a late night at the office, but something else piques your interest. “Teresa?”

That’s a funny coincidence.

Alex had an ex named Teresa he'd told you about. He’d worked with her, and apparently had fallen pretty hard and fast, too. She had left him for another man, leaving him broken and lost and… oh.

Oh, fuck.

Is it—?

“Patrick.”

You don’t need to say anymore.

Marcus, who had seemingly followed your silent thought process easily, gives a humourless huff followed by a nod, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. Suddenly it all makes sense—his exhaustion, the bitter feelings towards Jane. The pressure of the case, mixed with stress of not only working with your fake ex and ex-fiance, but also the man she had left you for? Shit.

The bags beneath his eyes make sense.

You should laugh, say he’s getting what he deserves and Teresa made the right fucking choice in picking another man over him because he’s nothing but a liar and a fake, but the thirst for a bitter jab is short lived. That would be a low blow, despite everything he did to you.

“That must be hard,” you mutter, reaching for the strap on your bag and readying it over your shoulder.

“It is,” he replies softly, “but this case is a lot harder for others.”

When you glance up you find he’s already looking at you.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer before you let your eyes drop and finally stand from the chair, thanking him quietly for the time he took to talk to you. He smiles, albeit sadly, and says anytime.

You risk a quick final glance over your shoulder when you close his door, and it’s no surprise to find that he’s watching you go.

—

The morning sun bounces off of his skin where it starts to seep through your windows, breaking through the night and alerting you to the early hour.

He’s asleep, face tucked into the back of your neck and warm breath fanning over your skin. You’re still cocooned in his arms, feeling much too hot to be comfortable enough to sleep with the temperature of his bare skin against yours, but reluctant to leave his embrace.

You’d endure the stifling heat for a bit longer, just to soak up the most of this moment. There’s never been someone like him before, never been a feeling like this. It hangs in the quiet stillness as the sun starts to wake, something new and sweet and promising.

His fingers are still intertwined with yours, his hold now looser since his breathing evened out. You study the way his skin looks against yours, how easily his hand overlaps the size of yours and how rough his palm feels on the back of your hand. You brush your thumb along his, heart running wild in your chest.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbles sleepily into your skin, pressing his lips into your shoulder.

The movement of you twisting and turning his hand must’ve disturbed his sleep. You tuck your hand, still tangled with his, close to your chest as a heat rises in your cheeks.

“Looking at our hands,” you reply quietly, slightly embarrassed that you’ve been caught, “sorry for waking you.”

The arm draped over you tightens, and you relish in the feeling of pure and utter safety. Nothing can hurt you here. It’s just you and him, and the growing morning light. There’s no work, no stress, just him and his hold. You want it all the time. You want it forever.

He hums, pressing himself impossibly closer.

“What’s interesting about our hands?”

You watch as he moves them back into view, feeling the way his lashes flutter against the skin of your throat as he adjusts his face to see them better himself. His facial hair rubs and tickles along your shoulder, and you squirm away from the pleasant feeling.

“Nothing,” you smile, turning your face as best you could to meet his eyes, “I just liked the way they looked.”

His nose runs along yours, his own grin soft and tired.

“Get some sleep, Scribbles,” he mutters, pressing a long kiss to your lips and you damn near have a meltdown at the tender fondness of it, “before that beautiful smile of yours keeps me up any longer.”

“Smooth talker,” you tease lightly, exhaustion finally starting to coax your eyes into closing, “goodnight, Alex.”

He sighs, burying his face into the side of your head.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

—

His hands are sweating.

He doesn’t move for a moment, willing his heart to stop beating so damn hard. The soft feel of his slacks rubs against his palms as he rakes them down his thighs before finally standing, smoothing down his tie and attempting to act like your sudden visit to his office hasn’t shaken every thought he has in his head.

You were an unexpected visitor, but not an unwelcome one. No, never unwelcome. He’d first thought he was going to have to chase you through the damn building to sit you down and talk to you about the developments of the case, but apparently the universe had other plans.

Leave it to Patrick fucking Jane to get to you first.

The slight rush of anger returns, and he feels his defences heighten—defensive over the case, over his team, over you. He doesn’t know exactly what had been said between you both, but clearly it had been enough for you to get the wrong idea. He’s not too sure if Jane was digging for more information about the case and coming up with his own theories, or simply trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing there.

Either way, he doesn’t like it, and he needs to ensure it won’t happen again, but he can’t talk to him. No, if he tells Jane to back off then his interest in you will no doubt only grow, and he doesn’t want that. You don’t need to have Jane picking away at your brain for his own sick pleasure on top of everything else.

He leaves his office just in time to see you and Wilson disappear, and he relaxes slightly knowing you’ll soon be safe at home, no doubt bundled under a blanket with a sketchbook. His eyes scan the bullpen until he sees her, and he quickly strides the distance between them until he’s right there and asking for a moment in private.

She hesitates, and he doesn’t blame her, but soon Teresa is following him just a few steps out of hearing range and he internally delights at the slight frown working its way between Jane’s brows from across the desks.

“We need to lay some boundaries,” Marcus murmurs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest when she merely rolls her eyes at his words.

“I’m sure you and I can both be professional, Agent Pike—”

Agent Pike? Is that what it’s come to now? Sure, he knew this was going to be awkward, but he didn’t expect for her to act as coldly towards him as she is. She was the one who left him, after all.

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Jane—”

“—is an integral part of my team, and won’t be going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, fighting the urge to roll his own eyes at her interruption.

“Understood, Agent Lisbon, but if we’re going to work together, he needs to reel it in on the theories with people that aren’t fellow agents, and if he continues to upset the civilian members of my team, I’ll be more than happy to kick him off the case along with the rest of your team.”

“You’re talking about the artist,” Teresa deduces, nodding in understanding with a vague twinge of interest and remaining unbothered by the threat of getting booted out of the investigation. “I saw them talking. Jane says she’s the one responsible for the replicas.”

Marcus sighs, arms tightening against his chest. It’s not a question but he gives a nod of confirmation anyway. He highly doubts that would’ve been something you would’ve freely admitted to a complete and utter stranger, so he assumes Jane has already been playing his little mind games.

“How’d she end up forging paintings for the FBI?” The interest grows, he sees it play across her face. “Doesn’t exactly seem like a dream career path for an aspiring artist.”

There’s a slight tone there. He doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t like it.

“That information has nothing to do with this case,” he replies firmly—defensively, “and it will remain that way. She has nothing to do with this investigation beyond providing her skills. Keep him on a tight leash, Agent Lisbon. I won’t tolerate it happening again, understood?”

There’s a barely there smile playing at the edges of her lips as she answers and it does nothing to calm his unease, “Understood, Agent Pike.”

—

Some of the faces on the table are familiar, and it almost feels like deja vu.

Most of the suspects in this case are new and some fully identified, however there were a few faces he vividly remembers from before. The people you had worked with, some had been jailed—like you, only with a much longer, unforgiving sentence—while others had slipped through the cracks and were simply left to return to the work that had first landed them in handcuffs.

Those who are in that deep never fully climb out of the hole, so it was more than likely he’d see them again in time.

And sure enough, some of their pictures scatter the chaotic table top of paper and files smeared everywhere, only he wasn’t expecting the obvious bullet hole in one of their foreheads. No question about how they were murdered, but the execution style of it certainly seemed personal. Did she know whoever held that gun?

You hadn’t been close, but you had been friendly enough with her during the rare times he would see you in a group back when he went by another name.

He knew all about her before even shaking her hand. She was young and naïve, lured into the illegal art trade business by the prospect of good money and no debt… much like yourself. She was talented, smart, an Ivy League dropout once she couldn’t climb atop of those heightening tuition fees.

He sees the reflection of you in her, all that wasted potential.

Could this have been you?

The images assault him before he even knows what’s happening. You laying there on that cold stainless steel autopsy table; you laying there with that gruesome hole right in the middle of your forehead; you with no family to pick your body up from the morgue.

It’s gut wrenching. He feels sick.

The photo drops from his fingers and he clenches his fist, heaving a long sigh of exhaustion and letting his body slump tiredly back into the chair. Other agents around the table mirror his position and energy, and with that, he finally decides to call it.

“Go home, guys,” he instructs, cutting through the silence and the shuffle of paper, “get a good night's rest and we’ll look over it with fresh eyes in the morning.”

There’s a sigh of relief that runs through the room, and no one wastes any time. They leave with various farewells and soon it’s just him and Wilson in silence. The man hasn’t moved much except from standing and fiddling with his folded jacket that had been previously hung over the back of his chair and Marcus waits, lifting an eyebrow in interest to urge the man to speak.

“Am I needed here tomorrow, sir? What about Picasso?”

A brief smile tugs at Marcus’ lips at the nickname.

“Yeah, we need you here. I’ll send her a text and let her know not to expect you.”

The other agent shifts on his feet, almost like he wants to object, but eventually he gives a nod and slinks out of the room with a quiet goodnight. Marcus watches the door close and briefly wonders if you’d spoken to Wilson about your shared history.

It would explain the sudden coolness he was getting from the young man, when in the beginning it was nothing but excitement and gratitude at being hired.

Marcus doesn’t mind—you need a friend, and Wilson is definitely a good guy. Besides, he deserves every bit of icy judgement from his previous choices.

He slides his cell from his pocket and types a simple text telling you not to bother preparing for tomorrow because Wilson would be in the office, hoping the alert of his message wouldn’t disturb you in your sleep and sends it without another thought before standing and starting to gather the loose documents spread out. He’s surprised when a notification sings out not even a minute later.

Is everything okay?

Eyeing the late hour at the top of his screen, he frowns at your pixelated words and replies quickly—

Everything’s fine—just lots of things to do. Did I wake you?

No, I was awake. I can’t sleep.

And you can’t. You’ve tried. You’ve tossed and turned and fluffed your pillow, kicked off your socks, put your socks back on, flicked a blanket off, wrapped yourself back up… and still nothing. You couldn’t get comfortable, you couldn’t still your mind long enough to let dreams take over.

Marcus feels his brows narrow at your words, and concern starts to creep into his system. Are you rattled about today? Do you have whatever Jane said to you playing on repeat in your mind? He starts to type his response, pausing when he starts to feel like he’s crossing some kind of line.

He reads the words over and over, wondering if he should just leave it and say goodnight. There’s an urge to talk to you, a want to hear your tired voice seep into his ears and maybe just pretend for a minute or two that everything didn’t fall to shit between you.

Do you mind if I call you?

You frown, thumb hovering over the screen as you deliberate an answer. This won’t help you sleep. If anything, it would only stir your thoughts up even more.

Yes. Yes, you do mind.

You don’t even want him to have your number, let alone to start calling in the middle of the night. No, he absolutely can’t call you, so why can’t you get your thumb to type out that three letter word to get him off your back?

Marcus holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable denial. He wouldn’t blame you. Of course not, but he still has that small flutter of hope tightening his stomach. It was always there, always waiting.

I don’t mind.

The message is delivered and received almost immediately and you miss the chance to take it back. You appreciate that he asked, though. That’s a good thing, right? He was giving you a chance to lay a boundary, and you believed he would’ve respected it should you have said you did mind.

You don’t bother with a hello when the phone eventually starts to vibrate in your hold and instead just lift it to your ear, wondering when your heart started beating so fast, when your throat got so damn dry.

“Sorry,” he breathes, the sound of shuffling and movement crackling down the line behind his voice, “I’m not much of a texter.”

“I know,” you reply quietly, huddling deeper under your comforter and tucking it beneath your chin.

Alex didn’t like texting, either.

Neither of you make another comment about it.

“I hope you’re not still thinking about earlier,” he says, and you imagine the hand that would rake through his hair as he busies about on his side.

Is he still at the office? That’s a late night. How much work is there to do? Do cases usually take this long?

“I’m not.”

And that’s the truth.

You stopped placing the blame on yourself once you made a few comments to Jacob in the car. Talking with Marcus helped, but Jacob calling you an idiot and saying it wasn’t your damn finger that pulled the trigger eliminated any remaining doubt. You didn’t hurt anyone, and even if your piece did have a mistake that alerted them to the authenticity of the piece, they made the choice to hurt others instead of just running.

“Have… have many people died during this case?” You ask carefully, before rushing to reassure him, “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. I get the whole classified thing.”

He snorts quietly, and your mind paints the picture of that pretty smile, those small dimples creasing his cheeks before you can help it.

“‘Classified’? We’re not running Area 51. The details of the case aren’t out there, but the murders are hardly a secret, you just don’t watch the news.”

“I watch the news,” you defend, knowing it’s an absolute lie.

You hate the news, you hate the constant drum of negativity and lies, you hate the motives behind it and how easily it can sway one’s mind.

Marcus chuckles softly, “You hate the news.”

Your cheeks start to ache, and it’s only then you find you’re smiling. It drops from your lips the second you realise and you shift under the blankets, a small frown starting to deepen between your brows.

“Well, maybe I don’t now. It’s been a long time since you knew me—I’ve changed a lot since then.”

He’s quiet, almost thoughtful, and then, “Have you? No more orange juice out of martini glasses?”

You can’t help it.

A huff of amusement breaks free from your lips and you’re smiling again.

You blame it on exhaustion, on stress, on anything that’s not him. It’s too nice, it’s too familiar. You don’t want to cross into these waters. You want to keep the space between you, barely talking and staying far, far away from each other until you can live your life with him nowhere near. You want to be free of him.

“Yeah well, my martini glasses got taken with the rest of my stuff when I went to jail so I can’t do that anymore.”

The slight tinge of iciness to your tone does well to kill the light hearted mood slowly creeping over the conversation and you’re almost glad for it. Almost.

A small part of you wilts from the warmth leaving your system, the walls steadily building higher and higher. You shouldn’t feel bad, and yet that feeling stirs to life in the pit of your stomach.

No, he deserves worse.

You push those tiny feelings away, burying them as deep as possible in some hidden part of you until their ache couldn’t be felt anymore. You couldn’t allow yourself to lower the walls you had built because of him. He doesn’t deserve to know you as you are now, slowly healing and on a journey to find peace.

He clears his throat softly and the gentle sound of it crackles in your ear.

“Right. Look, about that… I just…” a sigh, “I’m—”

Don’t say it.

Please don’t say it.

You don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t mean anything anymore. An apology will never, could never, make up for any of it. He could say it a thousand times, again and again, and it will never fix it. The devastation left in his wake had been violent and cutting, and the scars left from it would never heal fully. It was just something you’d have to live with. It was all a part of you now, whether you wanted it to be or not.

He sighs again, and another moment of silence passes.

“I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll let you know when Wilson will be back, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes following the dark lines of your bedroom furniture and the print framed on your wall.

A few more minutes pass and neither of you say anything, almost as if you’re both waiting for something else, something more. You don’t know what it is, and don’t care to find out, so you exhale softly and tuck yourself further in your bedding.

“Goodnight, Marcus.”

“Goodnight.”

—

This is dangerous.

It’s not good, it’s not professional, and yet, he just can’t fucking help himself. It all feels so normal, so natural. He wants it all the time desperately.

If only things had been different, if only he could’ve met you under different circumstances, where he didn’t have to hide behind a fake name and bullshit backstory. If only things didn’t have to be this way, maybe you two would stand a chance.

If only.

He’d soak it up while things felt somewhat normal. In the safety of your home, he can let his guard down a little. He can pretend. He can play the doting boyfriend madly in love to perfection, because that’s all he wants. For as long as he can remember, that’s all he’s ever wanted. Someone to be his, someone to call him theirs, and here, he has it.

He has it all with you.

His head tilts as he watches you from where he reclines into your kitchen counter, a smile slowly tugging at his lips as you sway to the music falling from the speakers.

“Why a martini glass?” He asks curiously, holding the stem of his own glass and swirling the bright yellow liquid within it.

You’re full of wonderful little surprises and quirks, and he takes them all in eagerly. He wants to know you, he wants to see the very core of you. He’ll soak in it all for as long as he can, ensuring to remember each and every thing about you.

The guilt lingers though, as it always does. It pushes through the warmth filling his system, bitter and unrelenting in its reminder of what he’s doing, what he’s already done. He used to think he was a decent person, good and true and fighting the good fight, but after this? No, he’ll never think like that again.

You’re the undoing to his entire being, and he both adores and resents it.

You grin, spinning away from the stove and sipping at the cold orange juice from the glass set beside you. “The question is—why not?”

He chuckles, giving a slow nod. “A fair point. Very fancy glassware for a simple breakfast.”

“Life is too short to keep fancy glassware in a cupboard—I’ve got to enjoy it all while I can!”

The self loathing triples.

God, you have no idea.

—

“Absolutely not.”

He’s adamant.

He doesn’t care how stubborn he seems, how defensive he must look standing at the head of the conference table with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that Jane’s eyeing him up with a new spark of curiosity, he doesn’t care that some of his agents look at him with a mix of confusion and others with understanding.

He doesn’t fucking care.

“She’d know a lot,” Jane says finally, unbothered, “given her history. I’m sure she’d be able to assist in further identifying some potential suspects, maybe even fi—”

“Her ‘history’?” Marcus snarls quietly, glare landing on the consultant. “Her ‘history’ has nothing to do with this investigation, and she’s to be left completely out of it, Jane.”

The man smiles, and it makes Marcus’ skin crawl.

How does he know about your history? How does he fucking know? How does he know who you are, what you are? Have they been digging information up on you?

There’s not a lot to be found seeing as Marcus ensured to have your name left out of case files and merely left as an anonymous source in court documents.

Your own arrest and court files had been buried, along with most of your case details struck with a thick permanent black mark, unidentifiable to anyone reading over in the future, so what does he know?

Jane eventually yields with his hands playfully held up in surrender, and lets the subject of you drop. He wants you out there, walking the path of your other life to start asking questions about the murders and the thefts. Does he not realise how much danger that would put you in? You couldn’t simply just reappear one day and start asking about things you should know nothing about.

Marcus feels anger simmer under his skin.

The debriefing continues with no further mention of you. There’s more talk of the murders, more talk of which painting they’ll go after next and details ironed out in careful preparation, but still, Marcus can’t shake the thought in his head that maybe Jane was right.

He couldn’t entertain that thought, though.

The mere idea of you landing yourself back in with the wrong people after going through so much pain and healing, the image of you potentially getting hurt and, god forbid, killed… it set him on edge. It turns his stomach. It’s too much risk, and he doesn’t feel comfortable putting you in that position, especially after ensuring you that you wouldn’t be in any danger at any point during this case.

He wouldn’t lie to you.

Not again.

That was a silent vow he made to you and strictly to himself. Never again. Going forward, you’d only hear the truth fall from his lips and that’s that. No more lies, no more going behind your back—none of it.

It’s most definitely too little, too late, but still. He refuses to do it anymore.

He goes to the comfort of his office after the debriefing, intent on closing the door firmly behind him to have a minute of peace to gather his thoughts and emotions, but the body that had been tailing him from the conference room fills his door frame and he lets them in without a word, closing the door immediately after.

“Look, I don’t like the guy, but he has a point, sir,” Wilson says as he stands in the middle of the room, hands diving into his pockets, “and I know she’d want to help more if she could. She feels pretty useless just stuck in that room all day, even if she does enjoy the art.”

He’s shaking his head before his co-worker can even finish, striding across the office and taking a seat in his desk chair. His elbows meet the arms of it and he slouches in the seat, fingers rubbing at the bridge of his nose to will away the headache threatening to grow in his temples.

“It’s out of the question.”

“Look, sir, I get it. I get that you wouldn’t want to put her back in this shit—believe me, I don’t want her to be either, but don’t you think that’s a decision she should make herself? She’s stronger than you think, and she didn’t get a lot of choice the first time ‘round.”

So he does know.

Marcus heaves a quiet sigh, looking up at the younger agent and studying his features.

There’s a swirl of worry swimming in the green eyes gazing levelly back at him, and it’s what Marcus focuses on most. It was easy to see the connection you and Wilson had made within the month you two had spent together, so that makes sense to be concerned for your welfare, but is there more to it?

It’s not his business, but he can’t help the train of thought once it’s on the tracks. Does what you share with Wilson go deeper than what it appears to be? Is there something growing between you both? Is it mere friendship, or romantic?

Fuck.

Do you like the guy?

He swallows, eyes flicking away from the admittedly good looking, much younger agent as the hideous feeling of jealousy starts to sting at his system. He has no right, no right whatsoever, to feel this way, and a part of him understands that, but once that horrid green little seed plants itself in his heart, he starts to feel the familiar wash of inferiority.

Not that he stands a chance with you now anyway—he set fire to that bridge long ago, but still… it was that damn shred of hope in the centre of everything. God, now is not the time for this.

He pushes it all away, returning to the calm and cool headed agent he’s had to force himself to be lately. It’s usually not such a struggle to be confident with his experience and skills in this position, but you made it highly difficult by being a part of this investigation.

As much as he’s enjoyed seeing and talking to you again, despite how icy and indifferent you’ve been acting towards him, he’ll be glad to see the last of you once this is all wrapped up.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Marcus finally relents, unsure of if he's making the right choice.

He’ll just have to ensure nothing bad will come of this, that you’ll be safe and remain unharmed because, god knows, his heart wouldn’t be able to take that.

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#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist fic

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