#Because he's already getting that and it's mostly shirts and no kids wants ONLY shirts for presents.
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We spendin'.
#I have no idea what to get my 10-year-old cousin who only likes Fortnite.#I landed on laser tag which I think is a good choice but it only comes with two lasers.#Two person laser tag is stupid and there are three kids in the house.#So I got him two sets.#Ouch my saving account.#“Why not just get him Fortnite stuff?”#Because he's already getting that and it's mostly shirts and no kids wants ONLY shirts for presents.
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nocturnal | choi seungcheol [M]
summary ⇾ tipsy from after-work drinks, seungcheol returns home on friday night to find you asleep. he tries not to look, but his wandering eyes keep drifting over to your slumbering figure, and he knows rest won’t come easy when you seem to be tempting him even in your sleep. seungcheol could resolve his little predicament all by himself, but shouldn’t you be the one to take responsibility for making him feel this way?
PAIRING // choi seungcheol x fem!reader
GENRE // some fluff, mostly smut, pwp (i mean it, I'm warning u), sub!reader, dom!seungcheol, fiancé!seungcheol
WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, established relationship, unprotected sex, somnophilia, consensual voyeurism, male masturbation, slight size kink, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, fingering (f receiving), edging, choking, thigh riding, talks about having kids, cheol is a teasing little sh*t
WORD COUNT // 13k
AUTHOR’S NOTE // 13k of just smut lol btw have yall seen GDA cheol? the all black fit and rolled up sleeves and the dark hair... moving on, happy new year to everyone who reads this, may 2024 bring us endless happiness and love ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅ do reblog if u enjoy this fic. I'm working on a wonwoo fic that has ten times more plot than this so pls stay tuned for that :) song rec is rock your body - clara la san
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You're already in bed when your fiancé returns home from work, drifting in and out of sleep, wanting to wait for him to come home but unable to fight your weariness. Friday is always the busiest day at work, and the idea of being able to stay in bed until noon the next day only makes you want to wait up for him even more.
Seungcheol must think you're already asleep. It's reasonable that he thinks that way—you're a light sleeper and often go to bed early. He tries his best to stay quiet as he moves around. You had barely heard him enter the apartment, and only faint thuds of his sock-clad feet can be heard as he meanders around the house.
When Seungcheol enters the bedroom, he's a little sceptical as to why the bedside lamp is still on, casting a dim, yellow glow across the room. His eyes search for you, finding you cocooned under the covers, lying on your left side with your back turned to him. He knows you can't sleep with any light on, but he deduces you must've been waiting for him and inevitably succumbed to sleep.
Seungcheol moves toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He's slightly tipsy from downing a few beers with his co-workers after work. He feels light on his feet, and his once-gelled hair is no longer slicked back, some unruly strands now falling over his forehead. He hears you shift on the bed as he loosens his tie, but he doesn't think much of it, proceeding to unbutton his dress shirt.
Two buttons in, he hears movement from the bed again, and this time, he looks in your direction in the mirror, taken aback when his eyes meet your bleary ones. He turns his head to look at you, his mouth curling into a lazy smile. "I thought you were asleep," he says in a low voice.
You say nothing, propping your elbow up on your pillow and leaning your head against it to get a better look at your fiancé. He turns back to the mirror, and you notice the rosy tint colouring his cheeks. You sigh dreamily, admiring him from the bed. Seungcheol is tall—that much is obvious—but those dress pants do his legs wonder.
When he reaches for his belt, you can't help but stare. His dress shirt is still tucked into the pants, the first few buttons open, baring the soft skin of his chest. Your eyes wander, and you think Seungcheol does notice. The man does not miss a thing when it comes to you.
The sound of his belt unbuckling makes your legs curl closer to your body, and Seungcheol definitely notices this time because he stops his movement, fingers hovering over the button of his pants. When he turns on his heels, your eyes finally snap back up to look at his face. He doesn't say anything as he approaches, coming to a stop beside the bed, towering over you.
He reaches one hand out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. It's a feathery touch, and your eyes naturally flutter close, head tilting into his touch just the slightest. Gentle fingers thread into your hair, brushing it back and tucking loose strands behind your ear.
Your eyes snap open when you feel his thumb against your bottom lip. At first, it's harmless, and he's only dragging the pad of his thumb across your lip, but then he starts to dip further into your mouth. He lets out a soft sigh when your lips part, allowing his thumb to rest against your tongue. Then, your mouth wraps around his finger, suckling at it softly, and his breath catches in his throat when he feels just how warm and wet your mouth is.
It's over before you want it to be. Seungcheol smiles a little too innocently, removing his thumb from your mouth and patting your cheek. "Get some rest, baby. I'm going to take a quick shower."
You don't stop him as he walks into the en suite bathroom, surprised that he hadn't immediately taken his clothes off and taken you right then and there. Seungcheol's self-control has always been immaculate when it comes to sex, but refusing to do it on a Friday night when neither he nor you have work tomorrow morning? You chalk it up to his exhaustion after working overtime, so you lie back in bed, eyes refusing to close even though your body is screaming at you to rest.
Seungcheol emerges from the bathroom not even a minute later, shirtless, belt discarded, pants unbuttoned. He takes off his silver Rolex, carefully setting it down on the bedside table near his side of the bed—as always. To your disappointment, he doesn't spare you even a glance before walking back into the bathroom.
You find yourself sighing, anticipating what seems to be an uneventful Friday night. You and Seungcheol usually spend Friday nights together— going out for dinner or unwinding with a movie on the couch. But if your lover is too tired to do anything other than sleep, you understand. You also have days when you feel too drained to do anything other than lie in bed and mull over your thoughts. Besides, it isn't like you don't have the entire weekend to make up for it—hell, you have your whole life to make up for it.
Seungcheol leaves the bathroom door open behind him. It's not strange for either of you to keep the bathroom door open while showering. Privacy isn't much of an issue for both of you.
You fall back asleep relatively quickly, not thinking much about the fact that the shower hasn't started running even though Seungcheol has been in the bathroom for at least five minutes.
You awaken again soon enough to the sound of soft sighs and some rustling from the direction of the couch placed near the bedroom door. At first, you try to ignore it, thinking Seungcheol might just be getting himself ready for bed. Then another sigh follows, and you peek an eye open to take a quick look. What you think will be a quick look turns into so much more.
Your beloved fiancé sits with his legs spread on the white couch, still shirtless and wearing his dress pants. This time, however, his boxer has been pushed down just slightly, and he's lazily stroking his cock in his hand, his other arm splayed across the backrest of the couch. His skin is pale and milky, glowing in the golden light. He smiles when you prop yourself on your elbow, blinking blearily as if trying to comprehend what you are currently seeing.
He's rock hard, shaft glistening with pre-cum. You and Seungcheol have always loved trying new things in bed, pushing yourself to the limit, testing just how far each of you will go before you tap out. But this... the thought that Seungcheol was touching himself to the sight of you asleep—it stirs something in you. You've always loved waking up with Seungcheol's cock inside you. The drag of his cock feels especially good when you're still drowsy, trying to pull yourself together but failing each time because your lover just feels so good inside you. But this is different.
Seungcheol's hand speeds up, and the way he groans makes you lose your train of thought. The silver ring sits snugly on his little finger—the coolness of it must feel so good on his cock. You don't break eye contact, shifting onto your stomach and folding your arms underneath your head as you watch him. You wouldn't be able to look away even if you wanted to.
Seungcheol grits his jaw when he sees you smile. It's the last thing he expects. You look so sweet, and he starts to wonder about the sight he would be met with if he were to pull the covers away from your body. Are you wearing the sheer nightgown he always loves seeing on you? Or maybe you're wearing nothing, and he'd be able to spread your legs apart and slip himself right into the warmth of your needy cunt.
Seungcheol straightens his posture just a little, cock twitching in his hold at the sight of your smile. You look so at ease, enjoying this more than he had anticipated. He was half expecting to get an earful from you, thinking you would probably scold him for his bizarre behaviour, but this, he wasn't expecting at all, and that makes his cock harden, balls tightening almost painfully. Seungcheol feels as though he's about to burst from the inside. Your smile—as if you're taunting him, teasing him.
"Fuck, fuck..." he breathes out, head tilting back, eyes closing, savouring the feeling of his rough, calloused hand moving up and down his cock. The fact that you're most likely still watching him makes his abs tense up, trying to hold back from finishing too fast. It has barely been ten minutes since he started, but the sight of your smile feels like it's burned into the back of his eyelids. It makes his brain go haywire.
He risks another look at you and immediately realises he has made a grave mistake. Instantly, he's cumming hard, unable to hold himself back because you're looking at him so prettily—slow blinks and a sleepy smile. A loud groan rips from Seungcheol's chest, fist wrapped around the tip of his cock, stroking it just barely, trying to milk everything out. His cum trickles down his knuckles, down his shaft.
The intensity of your gaze, fixed squarely on his leaking cock, spurs Seungcheol to stand up. He rids himself off his dress pants and boxers, using the latter to wipe off most of his release before walking closer to you. Seungcheol stops on the side of the bed, stroking his softening cock almost languidly. He doesn't have to say anything, and you're already sitting up against the headboard, reaching a hand to grab at his wrist to pull him even closer. Seungcheol perches one knee on the bed, watching as you lick your lips at the sight of his cum. You're still fucking smiling, and he feels himself growing hard again.
"Enjoyed that, did we?" he says quietly, trying not to break the peace and quiet too much in case you feel like going back to sleep after his little 'show'.
"Very much," you reply, voice slightly scratchy from sleep.
Seungcheol is so thick everywhere, and it makes you dizzy. Your eyes roam over his chest, bulky arms, and firm thighs. Your lover has always been strong and filled in all the right places, and you love it. He has no problem picking you up, tossing you around, manhandling you into different positions. He doesn't struggle with keeping you steady when he's fucking you against the wall or any other surface.
You brush aside his hand from his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at the excess cum on his knuckles, cleaning it off his skin. The salty, bitter taste floods your tongue, and you immediately take him into your mouth. Seungcheol hisses when you do, loving the way your mouth envelopes him. You don't waste any time trying to take all of him in, mouth stretching almost painfully around the heavy girth that's starting to harden again, your thighs pressing together to get some friction. You must look pitiful to Seungcheol, trying to fit all of him in your mouth in your sleepy state, hips shifting slightly on the bed, trying to get some relief.
Breathing in, you look up—right into his eyes—before moving forward until the tip of your nose presses into his lower stomach. He breathes out a chuckle when you gag, throat constricting around his cock. Your eyes fill with tears, but you don't pull away until you're sputtering and the droplets of tears trickle down your cheeks. Seungcheol's quick to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against the pearling teardrops on your cheek. "Easy, baby... I know you're tired. Don't force it..."
Hearing Seungcheol's instructions, you stick to shallow motions, using your hand to stroke the rest of his length you can't fit in your mouth. Seungcheol's hip jerks forward a little when you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the tip. Seungcheol mumbles an apology as he weaves a hand through your hair and starts to thrust his hips forward little by little, lost in the feeling of your mouth.
His cock glistens with your spit in the low light, and your eyes fall shut naturally, basking in the quiet noises Seungcheol is making. He doesn't force you to take all of him, pulling his hips back before the tip of his cock can reach your throat. You appreciate his sentiment, even if you feel awake enough to take whatever he gives you.
Your eyes snap open when you feel the cold air against your bare legs. Seungcheol has yanked the blanket away from your body and is now peering down at your exposed form, clad in his grey shirt and a pair of white panties. Your panties are nothing special, but Seungcheol feels his cock twitch in your mouth when he sees the wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.
He can feel the vibration of your moan against his cock when his finger grazes over the damp spot on your panties. He can't resist using the tips of his fingers to rub over your clothed pussy, teasing up and down the slit, watching the way the drenched fabric sticks to your dripping cunt—thoroughly soaked and ruined before he has even done anything to you.
When you pull away from his cock momentarily to take a much-needed breath, Seungcheol immediately leans down to capture your lips with his in a bruising kiss. He swallows all your moans, rolling his tongue over yours, dragging it against your lower lip. He doesn't pull away, even as he tugs the crotch of your panties to the side and starts to circle your clit with his fingers, which makes your legs snap shut, trapping his hand in between.
Seungcheol pulls away from the kiss, glancing down at his trapped hand before looking back at you almost expectedly. "Open," he commands. You don't need to be told twice, immediately parting your legs.
"Good girl..."
Seungcheol prods at your hole with two fingers, slipping both in only halfway. They slide in easily, slick from the wetness seeping out of your pulsing hole and the remnants of precum messily smeared all over his cock as he was jerking himself off.
"You got this wet from watching me? Or were you touching yourself before I got home?" Seungcheol grunts, gazing down at the way your pussy is fluttering around his fingers. The squelching sound is obscene, resounding throughout the bedroom. "Messy little thing..." he mumbles quietly, lost in thought as he lets his fingers dip into you right down to the knuckle.
You gasp, pulling your mouth away from his cock to look up at his face. Seungcheol doesn't meet your eyes, seemingly entranced by the sight of his fingers between your legs. Bending one of your knees, you spread your legs wider. After dating Seungcheol for two years and being engaged for one and a half, you don't feel the need to hide from him nor the embarrassment of presenting yourself to him like you're his to own and use as he pleases. In all honesty, he possesses every part of you—your heart, your soul, every inch of your body. He is yours as much as you are his.
When Seungcheol adds a third finger, he finally looks back at your face, not wanting to miss how your eyebrows furrow and mouth gape open at the tight fit. His fingers are thick—much more so than yours—but his cock is even more so, and he definitely needs to stretch you out to get you ready, or he will risk hurting you. There are occassions when a little bit of pain is most welcome, but tonight, his main objective is to give you pleasure.
With a trembling hand, you reach up to grasp at his cock, stroking him slowly, matching the pace of his fingers as they dip in and out of you. You know you won't be able to use your mouth properly, not when he's touching you so earnestly and looking down at you as though he hasn't ever seen you in such a position in your years of being together.
"You touch yourself before I came home, sweetheart?"
You're quick to shake your head, slumping further down the headboard as he continues to play with your pussy. "No..." you whimper, jolting when he suddenly curls his fingers, tips of his fingers firmly pressing up against the spongy spot inside you that sends a current of pleasure darting up your spine. "I got so wet from watching you, Cheol," you sigh out, hips canting up to match the movement of his hand. "I love watching you..."
Seungcheol hums, grinning down at you, pleased with your response. "Aw, my baby always loves watching me, isn't that right?"
His free hand envelopes the hand around his cock, urging you to keep stroking him. The ring on his middle finger glints in the light—it's the ring you gave him a week after his proposal. It serves as a reminder that no one else but him has the privilege to have you like this. No one else will ever get to touch you, kiss you, make love to you, and fuck you the way he intends to tonight. You're his, forever, and the idea has him grunting out your name breathlessly.
With his hand atop yours, he guides your hand up and down his length at a pace that makes him hiss. Your hand is much smaller than his, fingertips barely meeting around his thick girth. His skin prickles whenever you tighten your hand around him just slightly every time your hand reaches just under the head of his cock, squeezing him just the way you know he likes it.
"Fuck..." he exhales, sweat beading down his temple. "So good, sweetheart..."
"Cheol..."
"Hm? Tell me what's wrong."
You glance down at the hand between your legs, feeling short of breath from watching the way your slick seems to coat Seungcheol's fingers, some staining your thigh, some smeared on the palm of his hand. You suck in a big breath, stomach caving in. When you return your gaze to him, you're surprised to find he's already looking at you, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out to rest against his bottom lip. The way he's looking at you makes you feel sweltering hot.
"My shirt, p-please," you stutter out, feeling suffocated in only one layer of clothing.
Seungcheol immediately understands what you're asking, but he makes no move to take your shirt off. You whine when he suddenly retracts his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling so empty. He peels your hand off his cock, leaving you baffled and so goddamn frustrated.
"Cheol, why'd—"
He hushes you, lowering himself onto the end of the bed. He grabs both your thighs, pulling you down from the headboard. His cock nudges against the back of your thigh, so close to where you want him the most.
"Oh, God," you breathlessly pant. "Need you inside me," you tell him, feeling frenzied. You move to pull off your shirt, but he grunts, shaking his head.
"Don't," he orders, using his grip on your thighs to spread your legs wide enough for him to be able to get a good view of your sloppy cunt, all slick and puffy from the onslaught of his fingers. "I like seeing you in my shirt," he says in a faraway voice, distracted by the sight of your pussy, hole clenching around nothing, almost inviting him to dive right in.
You groan, propping yourself up onto your elbows, chest heaving. You lick at your dry lips, sending Seungcheol a pleading look, but he doesn't meet your eyes, too absorbed with the mess in between your legs. "Cheol, baby—"
Without warning, Seungcheol leans down, shoving his face into your pussy, mouth hungrily devouring your heat. You fall back onto the bed with a startled shout, jaw hanging open as you try to comprehend the sudden onslaught of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole. Seungcheol is good with his mouth and familiar enough with your body to know how to bring you close to the edge in only minutes.
He's sucking at your clit noisily, manic with his movements like a starved man getting his first taste of food after days without it. He's greedy and ravenous, offering you no respite—not even a moment to catch your breath.
You try to tell Seungcheol to slow down, to give you even a second to compose yourself, but only garbled moans of his name come out. By now, sleep is the last thing on your mind—only pleasure clouds it. You're trembling under him, helpless against the relentless assault of his mouth.
When Seungcheol groans, the vibration on your most sensitive part makes you choke on air, lowering a hand down to grab the strands of his dark hair. When you try to move away from him, he clutches onto your thighs tighter, tongue teasing at your hole, swirling but never diving in. You're still trying to get away, overwhelmed. He notices this, and he brings both his arms around your thighs, hugging your legs close around his head. There's no room to move—he has you locked in.
"Fuck, please, please, s-slow down! C-Cheol!"
He doesn't, lapping up all your juices, groaning at how your taste coats his tongue and how your smell overtakes his senses. He trusts you to say the safe word if it becomes too much. He also knows that you can take this—he has done far worse things to you before.
The tip of his nose presses against your clit when he delves his tongue into your pussy, earning a rather rough pull of his hair from you. The pain shoots down his spine, making him slump down onto the bed to grind his bare cock on the bed. All of it makes him so light-headed. Your legs are tightening around his head, trapping him, but he doesn't mind, not even if your moans sound muffled this way. He'll get to hear you later when he fucks you silly into the mattress anyway.
Tears brim in your eyes. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, dry from moaning so much. It's almost too much—how he is so ruthless with his mouth and tongue. He doesn't let up once, breathing in and out through his nose, delighted to be suffocated between your plush thighs. It's pure fucking torture, but it feels divine.
"Cheol... C-Close," you whisper, hoping he can hear you.
He doesn't hear you, but he knows you enough by now. He knows the telltale sign of your orgasm approaching, knows how tight you get when you're about to cum, knows how your back arches and your toes curl. He looks at your face and reads your lips, repetitions of his name spilling past it.
Then he's pulling your legs away from the sides of his head, ripping his mouth from your pussy. Your orgasm is brutally stolen from you, and the sheer frustration that surges through you makes you howl out his name. To make it worse, he only chuckles at you, hands rubbing comfortingly at the side of your thighs. The touch should be soothing, but it only leaves you angered.
The sheer audacity of this man—
"You asshole," you spit out with all the venom you can muster, chest rising and falling rapidly. Tears of frustration trickle down your cheeks, and Seungcheol thinks the sight would be so lovely if he hadn't just been devouring you like you were his first meal in months.
"Aw, don't be like that, baby..." he coos sweetly, lips and chin glossy with your juices. He wipes his face with the back of his hand before swiftly grabbing at your soiled panties, pulling them off you and tossing them somewhere in the room. He adjusts your legs, straightening both and letting them dangle over one of his shoulders. Holding his cock in his hand, he strokes it twice and then runs the tip up and down your slit.
"Choi Seungcheol, you're—you..." you trail off, finding yourself drawing a blank, still shocked by how he so meanly robbed you of your orgasm when it had been right at your fingertips. That, combined with how his cock is lightly dipping into your hole, leaves you feeling an untamed emotion, a sensation of chaos where you feel completely out of control, an experience both terrifying and exhilarating.
"Did you just call me Choi Seungcheol? We've been together for years, baby—let's not use full names now," he warns you before he sinks into you in one fell swoop, stuffing you full of every inch of him. There's a brief flash of pain as you try to adjust to the sudden stretch, hands tugging at the bedsheets and eyes rolling back. You hear him chuckle, prompting you to look up at him. You regret it almost immediately because the sight of him makes your hips lift off the bed, a strangled moan leaving you.
Your orgasm crashes into you like a freight train, sudden and jarring. You don't even register it yourself at first, at least not until the overwhelming ecstasy makes you go stiff in Seungcheol's hold, sobbing at the surge of pleasure that has striked you so abruptly. You had not had time to prepare yourself, so you try grounding yourself by grabbing his biceps and clawing at the smooth skin, leaving tender, red marks.
"G-God, oh God, Cheollie," you whine, pinching your eyes shut because everything feels too fucking good, and you're struggling to bring yourself down from this euphoria and anchor yourself in the present.
Seungcheol doesn't realise what's happening right away. He feels the way you clench hard around him, walls squeezing him so tight that he can't help but let out a small groan. He's caught off guard when he feels your nails digging into his arms. You're writhing underneath him—quivering, shaking—and finally, it dawns on him what has just unfolded. You just fucking came, all because he had eased his cock into your warm cunt.
"Oh, baby..." he mutters, snickering quietly to himself. He coaxes you through your orgasm, pressing soft kisses on the side of your thigh. "Shh, good girl, that's it, ride it out for me, darling..." he murmurs against your skin, fighting back the urge to start moving his hips and fucking you through your orgasm. You've never been this sensitive before, and he knows he needs to approach this situation carefully. He doesn't want to overstimulate you too much and too soon, both for your sake and his.
Seungcheol is equally perplexed and impressed at how little it had taken you to cum. All he had to do was slip himself into you, and you were coming undone under him? He feels his cock twitch at the thought. Seungcheol's only a man, and what you did has inflated his ego tenfold. He thinks nothing could ever top this moment, and he doesn't intend to let you live it down.
You're not sure just how long it takes you to collect yourself. A gentle palm smoothes down your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. The soft voice is murmuring your name, pulling you back down, down, down from your drunken daze.
"I'm sorry," you say, still a little disoriented, gaze unfocused. You see Seungcheol's outline and see his lips moving, but you don't hear anything except the pounding of your heart in your ears. You blink a few times, forcing yourself to adjust and snap out of whatever trance you were momentarily stuck in. "I'm sorry," you repeat after finally regaining your awareness. Your eyes zero in on Seungcheol—you can see him clearly now.
"Darling, believe me, an apology is the last thing I need," he says, slightly relieved that you seem to be returning to your senses now. He carefully sets your legs to the side, leaning down and hovering over you with a leering smile. He has you caged in his arms, looming over you with his broad frame, making you feel small. "All I need—" he begins, nosing at your jaw, breathing in your smell, "—is for you to beg."
You let out a shuddering breath, feeling the tip of his cock nudge at the back of your thigh. Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Seungcheol had pulled himself out of your pussy, knowing he would most likely reach his own climax if you kept clamping down on him the way you did.
"Beg?" you echoed back, tilting your head up, giving him more access to litter kisses on your neck.
"Mhm..." He lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin under your jaw, not biting, just gliding over your pulse point. "Beg me to make you cum again." He ends his sentence with a playful nip on your jaw, loving how you jolt under him in surprise.
His request isn't unusual or odd in any way. Seungcheol has said worse things to you before—things so filthy and obscene it would make a sailor blush. His words carry an unfamiliar weight this time, provoking a shyness in you that you never anticipated would be caused by his words alone.
Warmth begins to creep up your neck, and a lump forms in your throat as something akin to humiliation washes over you. The weight of the situation starts to dawn on you. Seungcheol hadn't even had the chance to move before you were creaming all over him like a bitch in heat. The thought of it makes you want to curl into yourself and hide until morning.
Seungcheol must feel you tensing up because he's immediately pulling away from the crook of your neck, searching your face with his eyes. You avert your eyes to the side, unable to meet his gaze with the wild embarrassment coursing through you.
"What's wrong?" he asks you. "Look at me, baby..."
You sigh, knowing he wouldn't just let this go. Still, as you drag your gaze back to his, you can't help the shameful furrow of your eyebrows.
Seungcheol immediately knows. "Are you... embarrassed?" he asks, the corners of his mouth curling up just slightly.
You groan, pushing at his chest to get him to roll over to his side of the bed. He doesn't resist, moving over to give you enough space to sit up on the bed. "Ugh... 'm not embarrassed," you grumble, tucking your feet under your legs so you're sitting cross-legged on the bed. You feel Seungcheol's hand on your back, palm warm over the shirt you're still wearing as he rubs up and down to soothe you. The gesture only makes you feel even more ashamed, especially since you can hear the quiet laughter he's emitting beside you.
Seungcheol finds it so endearing when you press your hands to your face, hiding yourself from him. His grin widens when you whine into your hands. "What are you so embarrassed for?" he asks, fully knowing the answer but still baffled about how you're so flustered from doing something that he wants to keep stored in his memory until the end of his days. The way your bewildered face had morphed into one of pure ecstasy as your orgasm washed over you is something he wants to be able to replay in his mind again and again.
His cock jerks at the memory, and he swiftly hauls the comforter up to the middle of his torso to cover himself up. He calls out your name softly, but you don't answer him, still hiding yourself with your hands. He lets out a small sigh, knowing he'll have to get your attention some other way.
He soon notices your engagement ring sitting on the bedside table. He knows you avoid wearing it to bed, too worried that it might slip off during the night due to your restless sleeping habits. Then, he comes up with the perfect distraction.
Reaching over, he swiftly grabs the ring from the table before settling back into his previous position. The movement makes you retract your hands from your face, curiously glancing at him.
Seungcheol is smiling, dimples on full display. You resist the urge to poke at the little dents on his cheeks, still feeling bashful about the incident. Then, you notice the small object he's fiddling with in his hand. He's tinkering with your ring, turning it over with his fingers, fitting it around his index, grinning when it doesn't even reach halfway down his digit.
Seungcheol's eyes seem to darken when he returns his gaze back to yours. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he grabs your left hand, fitting the ring on your finger. The way it fits so perfectly around your supple finger evokes something primal within him. How such a small thing can symbolise the commitment and love you both have for each other is such a wonder to him. He knows that no wealth or material possessions could ever encapsulate the depth of affection he holds for you, let alone this piece of jewellery.
"If this is your way of distracting me so I don't think about what happened earlier..."
Seungcheol rolls his eyes playfully. "You're welcome to forget about it all you want, but it's gonna keep playing in my mind like a broken record whether you like it or not."
You release a sigh but refrain from arguing because Seungcheol's words ring sincere, and you're aware he wouldn't acknowledge your embarrassment anyway.
He brings your hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing the ring. The gesture is intimate, even if he feels something entirely more carnal stirring in his stomach. "You're so much smaller than me. Could barely even fit the ring on my finger," he comments, thumbing at the small diamond sitting prettily atop the ring.
Through your blush, you manage a reserved smile. "That's because you're so thick everywhere."
You don't mean the sentence in a weird way, but judging from Seungcheol's booming laughter, he definitely misinterpreted your words. He squeezes your hand once before tugging you down to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets you join him under the covers before cupping your cheek, urging you to look at him.
"I'm thick everywhere, hm?" he teases you, watching how red immediately stains your cheeks.
"Don't be gross," you grumble, letting him trail kisses from your wrist, then up to your palm, and settling on your ring. "What's with you and the ring anyway?" you ask him, finding it sweet but slightly odd that he seems so fixated on it.
"I just had a thought, that's all," he responds, kissing each of your fingertips.
"Go on."
"That one day—" he says, eyes burning into yours heatedly, "—there'll be a wedding band beside this one, and you'll finally be mine forever." He says it airily, as if it's the most natural proclamation, with unwavering certainty in his emotions.
Your heart sings at the declaration. "You're wrong on the last part." You press a fleeting kiss on his mouth, smiling when his eyebrow raises questioningly. "I don't need to be married to you to be yours."
Seungcheol grins, one of his hands skimming down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass over the oversized shirt you're wearing. "You don't know half the things you do to me, do you?"
"I do, actually, and I plan to abuse that power," you jest, beginning to sit up, throwing one leg over your lover's hips to straddle him.
Seungcheol is awestruck at the sight of you on top of him. You, all beautiful and celestial, and all his. He wants to worship you, ruin you, and defile you all at the same time. He's not in the right mind to say anything yet, so he only watches, both hands gliding up and down your thighs, getting higher each time, hiking the fabric of your shirt higher up as well.
He breathes out a sigh when he allows himself to look down. Your pretty pussy is on display, all for him, with remnants of your juices on it and some smeared on your inner thighs. He's about to touch when you grab his wrist, slowly guiding his hand towards where you need him the most. He knows what you're asking of him, and he'd be stupid to deny you your wish.
You gasp when Seungcheol starts running two of his fingers up and down your slit, coating his fingers in the wetness of your cunt, unafraid to get messy. When he sinks both fingers into your hole, you can't help but mewl, one hand grabbing onto his bicep and the other still wrapped around his wrist.
"So wet for me, darling... You're fucking dripping all over my fingers," he says once he finally regains his voice back.
Seungcheol is much stronger than you, and he could easily rip away the hand on your wrist and finger fuck you to oblivion the way he usually does it. This time, however, he lets you guide him, allows you to move your hips to match the rhythm of his movements, and allows you tug his hand closer to reach deeper into you each time he buries the digits. He's still holding the reigns, and he knows that—even if you're the one sitting on top of him—but seeing you try to handle and manage your pleasure all by yourself is so fucking—"Cute."
"Oh... fuck," you breathe out, swallowing hard when Seungcheol folds his free arm and tucks it under his head. He's pretty—bicep bulging and veins crawling up his arms.
He grins when your pussy tightens around his fingers. "Think you could cum like this?"
"Mhmm..." You sit up straighter, balancing yourself with both hands firmly planted on Seungcheol's shoulders. Slowly, you switch to bouncing on his fingers instead of rolling your hips, wincing slightly at the burn of your thighs. Still, you push through the pain, aching for release, pressure in your stomach tightening at the way his fingers seem to reach deeper inside you at the new angle.
"Pretty, pretty girl," Seungcheol mumbles, more to himself than to you, but you still hear it anyway. It makes you light-headed. You love Seungcheol degrading you during sex, but hearing his compliment brings out a visceral reaction in you. It makes you giddy and scatterbrained—as though every coherent thought in your head simply just... wilts away.
You bite your lip at his praise, eyelids drooping slightly, a dreamy look settling over your gaze. Seungcheol thinks this is his favourite look on you. You're not saying anything, but your eyes tell a story of themselves. He can see it—the way you're practically begging for him and his cock.
"Please," you whisper, continuing to fuck yourself on Seungcheol's fingers, moaning wantonly at the mix of pain and pleasure. You're squeezing his shoulders with your hands, nails occasionally digging into his skin whenever the pleasure becomes a little too much. You're so close, and you think Seungcheol knows it as well.
"That's right, baby. Is my pretty girl close?" he asks, shifting slightly underneath you, cock throbbing at the lack of attention, hard as rock at the adorable sight of you bouncing on top of him. He loves the way you look in his shirt, but he thinks he'd much rather see your perky tits jiggling in his face as you ride him instead.
"Mhm, c-close," you profess, hands restless, wandering down to his smooth chest before settling around the base of his neck. You don't squeeze, only letting your hands linger as you chase your high.
Seungcheol chuckles when he notices the delicate grasp of your hands around his neck. He knows you won't put pressure—you're too meek for that. And no, he's not underestimating you. In fact, you might be the only person in the world capable of reducing him to his knees with a glance. But between the two of you, it has always been him who would dare to do such a courageous feat.
Seungcheol does exactly that. He slips his hand from under his head and clasps it around your neck, watching your eyes widen when he applies the slightest pressure onto the sides of your throat. You always cum so much quicker when he has at least one hand around your neck.
Your whole body stiffens at the contact, pussy fluttering wildly around his two digits. "O-Oh, f-fuck, fuck!" You let your head tip to the side, eyes fluttering close as you near your high. Your legs are starting to go numb, but that's the least of your concerns when your climax feels like it's looming right around the corner.
"Attagirl... that's it," Seungcheol drawls, applying more pressure when he feels your pussy squeezing tight around him. At this point, you must be growing dizzy from the lack of air and blood. He's careful not to apply any more force than he currently is. "What a pretty necklace," he taunts, awed by how perfectly his hand wraps around your neck. You're so much smaller compared to him. "Pretty necklace for my pretty girl..."
"Ungh, 'm cumming," you manage to slur out, movements growing more frantic, rhythm getting more sporadic the closer you get.
"Look at me, sweetheart."
It takes you a few seconds to register what he is asking. Your eyes drag over to his face. It's torture knowing you could be riding his cock instead of his fingers, but you know he'll want you to finish what you started. His fingers are doing a heavenly job, but the stretch isn't quite enough. You don't say that to him, though, knowing he'd probably give you hell for voicing it. He'd say you're insatiable and edge you until there are no tears left for you to cry.
"There you are..." he says once your eyes meet his. There's a hunger in his stare—an unspoken promise of the things he will do to you once you've finished fucking yourself on his fingers. Your whole body tenses, cheeks burning when he nods as though urging you to let go. "Can you look at me when you cum? Can you do that for me?"
When Seungcheol adds the smallest amount of pressure on the grip around your neck, you can't help the unadulterated moan that spills past your lips. You're so fucking dizzy, vision blurring on the edges. It's getting increasingly difficult to keep your eyes locked onto his when the world feels like it's about to crash down on you.
You still have your hands on his neck, and for a moment, you're distracted by how your engagement ring sits on your ring finger. The fat, silver diamond is a stunning contrast to his golden complexion.
"Come on, don't get distracted now. Cum for me so I can finally get you on my cock, hm?"
You come apart with a broken shout of his name, soaking his fingers with your cum, milky slick trickling down his knuckles and dripping on his stomach. At the height of your pleasure, Seungcheol decides to release his hold on your neck, letting the air and blood rush up to your brain. The sudden surge feels exhilarating, rendering you frozen in bliss as the feeling rips through you.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he remarks, his free hand coming up to brush back the hair from your face, letting your head loll into his hand sluggishly as it braces the back of your head. You look exhausted, back slouched and chest heaving. Still, he notices the way you're slowly grinding on his fingers. He knows you need more. "That looked like it felt good."
You nod, letting him slip his fingers out of you, sucking in a sharp breath at the sudden emptiness. "So good. Thank you..." Everything feels like it's aching—your legs, your back, and your pussy most of all. You're far from done, but you allow yourself to rest, lowering yourself to lie on top of him, face buried into his neck. You breathe his scent and allow it to root you in the moment.
Seungcheol wipes his stained fingers on your shirt, tsking you when you whine in protest. "It's literally your cum—why are you so grossed out about it?" he teases.
"Because..." you say slowly. When you realise you have nothing to say, you pick your head up, blinking at him.
Seungcheol hums, eyes amused when he looks down at you. "Mhm?"
You don't have an answer, so you kiss him instead. Seungcheol welcomes the kiss, letting his tongue meet with yours in a feverish kiss that makes your hands cling fervently to his hair. You're shifting on top of him restlessly, letting your pussy settle over the length of his cock, sighing heatedly into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around yours sloppily.
Seungcheol grunts at the way you let your pussy slip up and down his throbbing cock. Your cunt is hot and so fucking wet, and he feels like he might combust from how good you feel against him.
Two orgasms should've been enough for you, but you know you won't feel fully sated without Seungcheol's cock dipping in and out of your pussy, leaving it all messy in a mix of your cum. You're not sure whether you can cum again, but you do know you want Seungcheol's cum inside of you, and soon.
"Inside," you whisper against Seungcheol's lips, not letting him respond before you smash your lips to his again. Reaching down to grab at his cock, you're just about to line the tip with your hole when he shoves you away with a harsh grip on your arm.
You yelp in surprise, the world turning into a blur, hardly comprehending that you're no longer sitting on top of him. You're now lying on your back, staring wide-eyed up at Seungcheol as he hauls your shirt off, leaving you just as naked as him.
Seungcheol can't help how his eyes gravitate towards your tits, all on full display for his eyes to feast on. "Fucking perfect," he mutters, one hand jerking up and down his cock as his eyes roam up and down your body, taking everything in. The sight isn't foreign to him, but all the blood still rushes to his dick the same way every time. You're too fucking perfect. If ever comes a day that he ever sees a single flaw in your body, he'll fault his eyes instead.
When you sigh, it comes out half a moan. "Hurry, Cheollie," you tell him, spreading your legs wider, holding yourself open with two hands on the back of your knees, baring yourself to him unashamedly. You're too desperate for his cock to worry about self-dignity now.
Seungcheol groans, stomach flipping at the sweetness dripping from your lips when you say his name so endearingly. "Alright, alright..." He presses one hand on the back of your thigh while the other hand grips his cock, running the leaking head up and down your sloppy cunt. "Just don't cum on me too soon like last time, yeah?"
"Why are you bringing that up!"
"Actually... maybe I wouldn't mind. You always shut up so good after you cum." He chuckles at the deathly glare you give him, choosing that exact moment to sink into your awaiting heat, amused when your glare twists into an expression of utter bliss. Oh, he could die happy like this—cock snug in your warm, tight pussy. He allows you a few seconds to adjust, letting his hands travel all the places of your body that he can reach, leaving your skin prickling.
"Move, Cheol...Please."
Seungcheol smirks at your pleading, watching the way you spread your legs even wider for him—inviting and beckoning him to take you like you're the sweetest and ripest forbidden fruit. "How do you want it, pretty?"
Your eyebrows knit in frustration. Surely , he's trying to tease you, purposely prolonging whatever this is when he could already be fucking you into the mattress by now. Still, you humour him, hoping he will give in. "Any way you want, I'll take it."
Seungcheol nods with a hum, nibbling at the insides of his cheeks as he glances down at the point where his cock disappears into your pussy. "Any way I want, hm?" he echoes back, swiping a thumb at your swollen clit, snickering when your hips jump, causing his cock to slip out, heavy girth springing up to smack against his stomach.
You reach down with one hand, guiding his cock back to your pussy, desperate to be filled again. "Please, just please." The words come out frantic, almost distraught. "I need you."
Eventually, Seungcheol relents to your pleas. You look so pretty when you're begging for his cock, and that look you're giving him—you look delirious already, and he has barely done a thing.
"Shh, I've got you, sweetheart," he mutters, slipping back inside. Much to your delight, he doesn't dawdle this time. Although he does start off slow, pressing forward until his balls are pressed firmly against your ass each time he sinks in, earning a quiet sigh from you every time. "Pussy taking me so well, princess..."
At this pace, you're able to feel every slide of his cock against your pussy, the way the veins along his length rub against your walls so delectably. "God, f-fuck, fuck, Seungcheol..."
Your lover is watching your face closely, groaning now and then whenever your walls tighten around him, but amused for the most part. He doesn't want to seem arrogant, but he thinks it's incredibly flattering that you still react this way to his cock after years of being together. You're always so eager for him, shivering under his caresses as if you're starved of his touch, as if he has never sunk himself into your tight pussy again and again, only to come back for more.
Even now, as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him, you're sighing out his name so exquisitely, the syllables rolling off your tongue effortlessly. Your pussy drips for him, the sweet nectar leaking onto his cock, staining your inner thighs.
A frustrated groan bubbles in your throat as you prop yourself up onto your elbows, scowling at the man who is currently not fucking you the way you both deserve it. The drag of his cock feels good, but you need more, and you know he does too. "Cheollie," you mewl in your sweetest voice, one hand grasping a handful of your breast, squeezing it in the hope of enticing him to go faster. "Need you to go faster, please..."
Seungcheol doesn't try to hide his smirk, stopping the movement of his hips entirely. He knows you're trying to lure and tempt him, just like the seductress you are. He would be lying if he said your siren gaze and the sultry lilt of your voice don't make him feel as though he's spellbound. It's hard not to give in when you're looking up at him like you want him to wreck and pillage your body until you are practically ruined for everyone else but him.
When you flash him a saccharine smile, it's as if there is a magnetic pull drawing him down closer to you, mouth hovering over yours. He breathes you in, painfully aware of how his cock twitches inside you when you peer at him through your lashes.
"I thought you said you'd take anything I give you," Seungcheol mumbles, hot breath fanning against your lips. He pecks your lips once, angling his head to the side when you try to lean in for more, rejecting your kiss. He coos when you pout at his rejection. "So take what I'm giving you. That's what you promised me, isn't it?"
Then he swoops down lower to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at your collarbone. You're scowling at his statement, irked that he's using your words against you. Seungcheol doesn't seem to care about your current predicament, licking his way down to the slope of your breast, biting down on the skin with enough force to make it hurt.
"Don't you want to feel good, Cheollie? Why are you making this longer than it should be?"
"Oh, don't you worry about me, darling. I'm very much enjoying myself," he murmurs, pressing tender kisses on the side of your breast.
You're opening your mouth to retaliate but decide against it at the last second. Instead, you press your mouth together, saying nothing as you lie back on the bed. You'll let Seungcheol have his way with you for now. Whatever game he's playing right now won't last long, and his control will crumble eventually—at least, that's what you're hoping.
When Seungcheol wraps his lips around your nipple, you let his name escape you in a sigh. His mouth is warm as he gently suckles, tongue circling the pebbled bud. You don't need to look down at him to know he's looking up at your face, taking in your reaction. "Feels good..." you pant when he stretches his jaw open further, taking more of your breast into his mouth, teeth skimming over tender skin.
Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you arch your back. The slight shift makes your brain short-circuit for a moment as his cock seems to burrow deeper inside of you, sending a flash of heat through your body. "Fuck, so big..."
Seungcheol hums against your chest, still sucking earnestly, lapping at your nipple with his tongue, pulling back now and then to look at the way your chest glistens with his spit. After some time, he switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, making sure it's covered in his spit just the same as the other one.
You're not sure whether Seungcheol realises it, but his hips have started moving again, cock pushing in and out with no precise pattern, only seeking the warmth of your cunt as it sinks in repeatedly. It's addicting but agonising as well because you want more, and you're not sure whether you can hold out any longer. "Cheol," you softly call out, hoping to gain his attention. You don't wait for him to respond before speaking again. "Need you to fuck me, please..."
He pulls back slightly, blowing cold air on your damp chest, making you shudder. "Aren't I already?" he asks as he litters kisses on the valley of your breasts, fucking into you less distractedly this time, the force of his thrust growing harder.
You nod, breath stuttering when he finally gains speed, not as fast as you'd like but enough for your mind to go hazy. "Y-Yeah, just need—fuck—just need more..."
Seungcheol's laugh comes out a little shaky. He pushes himself back onto his knees, ignoring your whine at the loss of his warmth. "Are you being greedy, princess?" He gathers both your legs together, letting them dangle over one of his shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs soothingly when he hears your sigh of relief from the switch of position.
"I'm not being greedy," you grit out, looking up at him, hissing when he delivers a notably hard thrust. "Please, please, just... faster..."
"See, what'd I say? That was you being greedy." Seungcheol admires you from this position, drinking in the quiet sounds you're emitting, savouring the fluttering of your pussy around his cock.
Your eyes begin to brim with frustrated tears. You love the man with all your heart, but this is taking it a little far, even for you. You're yearning for him, blood pounding in your ears, skin aflame with desire and an insatiable hunger that threatens to swallow you entirely. How much longer do you have to wait?
"I can't, Cheol," you sniff, tears spilling onto your cheeks. "P-Please, I really can't—"
Seungcheol shouldn't feel so satisfied with how you're crying from how overwhelming it is, but an undeniable sense of fulfilment washes over him at the sight of your tears. This is what he wanted, after all—to test your limit and push you to the edge. "Alright, sweetheart, don't cry, I've got you..."
With a kiss to your calf, Seungcheol finally grants you what you've been begging for all night, quickly finding a rhythm that immediately garners a loud cry out of you. He sighs, cock finally finding relief at the friction. He enjoyed the game while it lasted, but this—it makes him think that maybe he should've given in sooner. You could've been filled to the brim with his cum by now if it hadn't been for his stubbornness to see you pushed to your breaking point. With this thought in mind, Seungcheol fucks into you even harder, trying to make up for lost time.
More tears escape your eyes, but it's not out of frustration this time. It's incredible how quickly the tiny sparks of pleasure can become something mighty—an unreckonable force that racks through your whole body, vicious and ruthless, almost cruel in a way.
"Still with me?" Seungcheol asks, gritting his teeth at how well you're taking him, his hands squeezing onto your thighs roughly, the hold almost painful. But you're too preoccupied with your own pleasure to care about whether or not his hands will leave bruises.
"Baby, you still with me?" he repeats.
"Hmm..."
Seungcheol shakes his head, not satisfied with your answer. "Talk to me, sweetheart."
"Y-Yeah," you respond, breathing in sharply. "With you..." Your words trail off into a low moan, a sound that makes Seungcheol's eyes flutter shut as he ruts into you faster.
The sound of skin slapping against skin resonates through the bedroom. It's lewd and unmistakable. His balls slap against your puffy folds with each thrust, sending your slick splattering everywhere—on your ass, on the bed, some droplets even landing on his thighs. He loves it when you get all sloppy for him like this.
Your hand claws at his own, nails digging into his wrist. Seungcheol lets you remove his hand from your thigh, a growl ripping in his chest when he realises your intention. Before he knows it, he has his palm splayed on your breast, one of your smaller hands resting atop his, guiding him to squeeze. He squeezes once, then twice, relishing the way you moan for him when he does. "That's it, always so good for me. You deserve this, yeah?"
"Don't stop, C-Cheol..." When you look up at him, he seems torn between looking at your face or down at the spot where his cock meets your pussy. He doesn't settle on one, letting his eyes flicker back and forth, breathing growing ragged when he notices your eyes on him.
"Why would I stop, baby?" He lets his free hand settle on your unoccupied breast, kneading gently, enjoying how you writhe underneath him at the contact. Both hands pinch at your nipples, twisting just barely until they harden in his ministrations. "Why would I stop when you feel this good?"
You hadn't been sure at first whether you still had it in you to cum another time after doing it twice in a short span of time, but a single glance at Seungcheol has you disoriented. Something is churning in your stomach, coiling and winding like a tightly wound spring, poised to release if twisted a little further. The more you look at Seungcheol, the less focused your gaze becomes. Tiny beads of sweat trace a glistening path down his temple, and fine strands of hair cling to his forehead—a testament to the strenuous effort he has exerted thus far.
"Cheol..." you whine, tensing your thighs together, arching your chest up into his rough touches.
"I know, I know... I can feel you tightening around me," he grits out, veins in his neck jutting out as he continues to strain himself through his thrusts, beginning to lose himself in the feeling of being buried inside your heat. He retracts his hands from your chest to grab each side of your hips. This way, he has more control of your body, able to pull you down onto his cock every time he thrusts in, pressing into you deeper. "Shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking good, taking me so well. You love this cock, don't you?"
You don't know whether Seungcheol knows how much his words affect you, but you certainly feel the tingling shudder lick a path from the base of your back to the nape of your neck. You let him grapple at your hips and move you however he pleases, using you for his pleasure.
"Say you love this cock, princess."
"Love it—fill me up so well, love your cock..." you slur.
"That's right, always so needy for it."
Seungcheol has been holding himself back for some time now, his balls heavy, ready for release. With the way your pussy envelopes him so nicely and the way you're moaning and whining out his name, he knows it will only be a matter of time before he finishes. "You close, baby?" he asks you, chest heaving with every laboured breath he takes. His eyes are screwed shut, afraid he'd cum too soon if he catches a glimpse of your fucked-out face and bouncing tits.
"Mmph, feels s-so good..."
Seungcheol brings one hand down to the space between your legs, slipping his thumb through the tight press of your plush thighs, quickly finding your clit. He doesn't take into account, however, the way your pussy would tighten around his dick as soon as he starts drawing quick circles around the sensitive bud. He doesn't have the time to warn you, only letting out a strained growl of your name as he is thrown over the edge, emptying himself inside you, filling you up in ribbons of cum that seem never-ending.
Taken by surprise, you can only squeal, wide eyes searching for his as you grab onto his wrist. Seungcheol keeps his hips pressed to yours, balls smearing slick over your ass as he fills you to the brim. You keen at the feeling, toes curling as you savour the warmth of his cum as it paints your walls white.
He shudders as the last spurts finally spill inside you, his hips rocking gently on their own, riding out the last few seconds. "Fuck, baby," he groans. He's panting, trying to suck in as much air into his lungs as he can with each inhale, the impact of his orgasm hitting more forcefully since he had been unintentionally edging himself for the past hour or so.
He knows you will eventually ask for more, but he's relieved you're giving him time to recover. He leans his head against your calf and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. It's hard because the thought that you're still in front of him, naked, dripping his seed, makes him feel winded in a way that is obscene.
"Cheol..."
"Yeah?" he grunts.
"You okay?"
He lets your legs fall from his shoulder, gently setting it down onto the bed, easing you to lie on your side. "Mhm... m' fine," he swallows, "just give me a minute."
When he slides out of you, you let slip a squeak that makes Seungcheol crack a small smile. He splays a hand on the back of your thigh, leaning back slightly to catch a glimpse of the mess between your legs. He can't help the stirring of his cock as he watches driblets of his cum leak out of you, seeping into the bedsheets.
Seungcheol finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from the glorious sight of your ruined cunt. He suddenly finds himself in a predicament. He knows he needs to take a breather, even if there is a part of him that aches to bury himself into you and fill you with his cum for the second time tonight.
Finally, he settles himself beside you, positioning himself so that he's spooning you from behind. He brushes his hand down from your shoulder to your arm and then down the enticing curve of your waist. Your skin is soft and supple against his palm. His caresses must tickle because your giggles fill his ears as you writhe away from his teasing touch. "Cheol..." your whine of his name makes a rush of affection wash over him.
Seungcheol grins, pushing himself up onto his elbow to lean over you just enough to nestle his face into the crook of your neck. When he nips at your jaw, you let out a breathless sigh, and he knows it won't be long until you ask him for more. He would give you more if only he hadn't just finished twice over the course of an hour. He will have to find another way to satiate your hunger.
Your eyes flutter shut, humming when you feel Seungcheol's lips on your shoulder blade. You don't say anything as you push your lower half into him, which earns a grunt from the man as his sensitive cock comes into contact with your ass. Much to your dismay, his hand immediately flies to your waist, gently moving you away from him.
"Baby," he rasps, the strain discernible in his voice. He pecks your lips when you tilt your head to pout at him. "Turn over and face me, hm?"
Slightly confused, you do as he says anyway, gasping when he pulls you into him with a hand on your lower back. With your chest pressed into his and face only inches away, you give him a questioning look, circling your arms around his neck and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "Now what?"
Seungcheol responds by kissing you. His kiss is hard and fierce, stealing your breath as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, soothing the stinging bite with a fleeting sweep of his tongue. You arch into him, moaning into his mouth when you feel his free hand trail up your chest to settle on the nape of your neck, allowing him to have a better reign.
Something presses against your aching cunt, and you have to break away with a dazed gasp, peering down between your bodies. Seungcheol has shoved his leg between yours, angling his thigh upward to press against you.
The hand on your back moves to the dip of your waist, encouraging you to roll your hips back and forth. The realisation of what he wants you to do makes you whimper. "Oh, God—"
"Shh, just focus on me, sweetheart. You can be a good girl and ride my thigh, yeah?"
When you try to respond, nothing comes out except a garbled moan. You must look so salacious to him—moving your hips back and forth like a desperate whore, dragging your wet pussy against his thigh, eyes rolling back from the simulation on your clit. You swear you see stars dancing in your vision, skin prickling as every thought in your mind withers into nothing.
"That's it, I can feel how warm you are... So fucking warm and wet."
You try to kiss him again but find yourself pulling away shortly after, too dazed to keep up with the force of Seungcheol's kisses. His thigh is drenched and sticky from the mixture of your juices and his cum that has leaked out of your hole, but he keeps you stable with a firm grip on the back of your thigh. Whenever you roll your hips, the squelching sound from between your thighs is distinct, and it makes your whole face burn.
With a sigh of his name, you weave your fingers through his hair, tugging when the stimulation becomes too intense for your liking. It feels fucking euphoric—the way his solid thigh feels against your soaked pussy as it drags up, down, up, down—but it's somehow not enough at the same time.
Seungcheol thinks your moans sound like angels singing in his ears, and he eagerly drinks it all in, watching your face intently at the same time, relishing the way your eyes roll back during moments when the pleasure washes over you in waves. "So cute."
"Fuck, Cheol, 's not enough..."
Seungcheol's mouth stretches into a grin, letting a few seconds pass in silence as he watches you rut desperately against his thigh, so keen to reach your long-awaited high. "Not enough? You're dripping all over me, though?" To prove his point, he withdraws his thigh from between your legs, shushing you when you whine in protest. "Let's see..."
Two of his fingers swipe at the sticky residue on his thigh. He lifts his hand to your face, showing the glossy remnant on his fingers. To further taunt you, he spreads the fingers apart, allowing a stringy thread of the creamy slick to bridge the gap between the two digits. He doesn't bother concealing his smirk when your sheepish face comes into focus, cheeks red from a combination of arousal and shame.
You huff when he sticks his fingers into his mouth, tasting the slick that clings to it. The deep hum that rumbles in his chest kindles a fire in you that you know can only be doused by Seungcheol's touch alone. You can only watch, stunned, mind teeming with a flurry of wild thoughts as he finally removes his fingers from his mouth.
"Now you choose, princess. It's either my thigh or nothing at all."
It takes you a moment to decipher his words. "But that's not fair..." you whine.
"Just choose."
"I don't wanna..."
"Time's ticking."
You give in—of course you do. Knowing Seungcheol, he probably would stay true to his words. He wouldn't have any problem leaving you high and dry as he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. Then, he would come back to bed as if nothing had happened, and he wouldn't give in no matter how much you cling to him and beg for even an ounce of his attention. Then you'd have to wait until the morning to finally get some relief, either by his fingers or tongue, because he always insists on fucking you only after he has had his dose of morning coffee. It's infuriating, but it would be a lie if you said you didn't enjoy his pesky games.
"Fine... Your thigh is fine."
"Use your big girl words."
"I need your thigh, please, Cheol. Pretty please..."
Seungcheol pauses briefly, letting your words sink in before he nods in approval. "Alright, if you insist."
When he slots his thigh between your legs again, it's as if you've stumbled upon an oasis amid a scorching drought. The pleasure is liberating, and you're sighing his name against the crook of his neck, melting into his touch, going putty in his hold. You're grasping at both his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the tautness in your stomach gradually builds again. It's slow, almost torturous, but the mounting tension from before has you trembling, and Seungcheol notices. He always does.
"Breathe," he reminds you, tapping your cheek gently to ensure you hear him. "Take your time and breathe, 'm not going anywhere."
"Unghh, I don't know if I can—"
"You can, baby," he encourages softly.
Seungcheol pulls you even closer by your thigh, hitching your leg a little higher against his hips, spreading you open a little more. He can feel you throbbing against him, and the warmth emanating from between your legs makes him feel heady.
"Fuck," he cusses, wishing so badly it was his cock that was making you writhe in his embrace and cry out his name so sweetly. "Stay with me. Are you close?"
You sob at the question. "I don't know. God, C-Cheol..."
"Hey, look at me, princess." Seungcheol nods when you finally compose yourself enough to look at him. "Breathe, and focus on me."
The movement of your hips doesn't stop as he mutters his instructions.
"Uh-uh, keep your eyes on me," he reprimands when he notices your gaze flittering down to the glistening mess on his thigh. "That's right, keep those pretty eyes on me. That's it..."
You're sure you've lost all your ability to communicate effectively or conjure up a coherent sentence. The only word you manage to babble and stutter out is Seungcheol's name. No matter how much you try, you can't help the shaking of your legs or the ragged rise and fall of your chest as you try to gulp in enough air. It feels so fucking good—you want to tell him—but nothing comes out except choked moans and whimpers.
"Don't worry about anything else. Just focus on the feeling..."
"C-Cheol, 'm close... I don't—I'm—"
"Shh, just relax. It's going to feel so good when you let go," Seungcheol says, hand still secure on the back of your thigh, helping you grind down against him. He thinks he might need a long, cold shower after this is all over.
When you breathe in, the smell of Seungcheol's tantalising cologne fills your nose, and you can't help but cry out. The mix of patchouli and bergamot combined with the natural scent of his musk makes you tense against him. He smells heavenly. He smells like home. "Oh my God, ungh—"
"It's okay, you can cum. No one's stopping you."
Your eyes drift over his face, focusing on every feature and every detail, no matter how minuscule. Ultimately, it is precisely the look in his dark eyes that throws you over the edge. His eyes have an allure to them—filled with desire and longing that dance wildly in the shadows, luring you into their mysterious depth.
The pleasure doesn't hit you all at once—it starts from the end of your toes, trailing up your legs, erupting into flurries of flames in your stomach, winding up your spine like an electric current that singes at every nerve. The euphoria builds like a crescendo, like a warmth that blossoms into an inferno and sweeps through your whole being. Your skin burns, but you feel as though you're drowning—chest tight, eyes glassy, mouth agape in a silent shout. Blood roars in your ears, and each heartbeat feels like a drumbeat, pounding against the confines of your ribcage, a relentless rhythm that drowns out every other sound.
When the pleasure finally subsides, it leaves a lingering warmth that seems to simmer under your skin. It's a pleasant buzzing, one that makes you feel drowsy. You slump against Seungcheol, hiding your face in his bare chest, trying to hide your bashful smile that would give away how blissful you currently feel. You breathe in his perfume, grounding yourself, soaking in the heat of his body as he gently brushes a palm up and down your back.
Seungcheol tenderly clasps your hand, lifting it delicately to plant a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. His kisses trail down, mouth caressing each fingertip before turning your hand gently. With utmost reverence, he presses his lips against the glimmering engagement ring on your finger, bestowing it with two tender pecks, a silent promise sealed in each kiss.
"I love you," he whispers against your temple, nosing at your cheekbone. "But do you think you could cum that fast again?"
Still recovering from your high, you struggle to grasp his words. "What do you mean?"
"Like before. I mean, I was barely in you, and you were cumming all over me so fast I almost didn't realise—"
Your loud gasp cuts him off. "You are such a dick! Stop talking about that!"
"Never!" he objects, dimples showing when he grins. "It's going to make for the perfect story to tell to all our friends—"
Deciding your words won't effectively shut his blabbering mouth, you're left with no choice but to resort to slapping his arm instead, not stopping until he seizes your wrist, effectively thwarting your assault on him.
"Okay, okay," he concedes with a laugh. "I'm just kidding. That story will forever stay with me and me only. I'm sorry, okay?"
"You don't look sorry."
"You're right, it was just so fucking hot—"
"You're insufferable. Break off our engagement right now."
The faux horror that overtakes his face is hilarious. "Alright, I'll stop. I really am sorry. Seriously."
You giggle at the admission. "You're stuck with me, you know? There's no backing out of a marriage with me."
He playfully sighs. "Hm, I'm not so sure about that.. I mean, it's not like we're already married—"
"Nice try, but I've already picked out my dress, and it's non-refundable."
"True, and I've just put a baby in you as well, so..."
You lean back, flashing him an incredulous look. "Again, nice try. Still on the pills, dummy."
"And what if they suddenly just... vanished?"
Snickering, you sit up, feeling unbearably icky and sweaty. "Why don't you marry me first, and then we can try having children. Deal?" You don't wait for his response, pushing yourself off the bed and shuffling your way to the bathroom. You can almost feel his eyes burning lasers into your bare ass.
"Why don't you start calling me daddy from now on? You know, for practice?"
"Absolutely not."
"What do you think about having four children?"
"I love you too, Seungcheol."
"Is that a yes?"
"You're cute."
There's a pause. "So, yes?"
"What should we do this weekend?"
You hear him get off the bed, his thundering footsteps drawing nearer. "Stop changing the subject!"
© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved. ✮⋆˙
#sweetlemontart writes#choi seungcheol#seungcheol#seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol smut#scoups smut#scoups seventeen#seventeen smut#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups fluff#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol imagines#seventeen imagines#scoups imagines#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#svt fanfic#seventeen fic#seventeen
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thinking of a scenario where when charles was little, his mum used to take care of his injuries and do the kissing-it-better thing, until he got older and his dad got wise to that and she couldn’t anymore. but it’s just something tiny that charles associates with comfort.
and so the first time, early on in the agency, that edwin gets badly hurt on a case and charles is patching him up, he leans in and presses a little kiss to the mostly-bandaged spot. it’s just the whole case gave him a scare, because he hadn’t seen edwin hurt bad before, and he’s just getting used to the fact that edwin’s his person, his to keep safe and he didn’t manage that this time, and in his distress he doesn’t even think twice.
edwin stiffens, and charles realizes he just kissed his best mate’s arm, and that’s not the sort of thing you do, is it, and maybe that’s really the sort of thing that’s going to get him knocked in the jaw. only edwin is just looking at him with curiosity, and edwin isn’t the sort of bloke who knocks people in the jaw but he is the type who could leave, could leave charles behind and... and now charles’s face is burning.
“sorry,” he chokes out, finishing the bandage hurriedly. “um, it’s just—something my mum used to do, y’know, kissing it better. when… um. when i’d get hurt as a kid, yeah? used to make me feel proper better, more than the plasters and all that. i know it’s silly, i didn’t think—”
“i did not mind it,” says edwin—who had never had any injury of his kissed better in his short life, and certainly not any of the damage he sustained over 73 years in hell.
“oh,” says charles. “that’s good, then.”
the next time edwin’s hurt it’s a significantly smaller injury, a really minor iron burn that’s already starting to look better even as charles applies the salve. he bandages it up anyway, though. but he’s surprised when edwin stays where he is once charles is done, still expectantly holding out his injured hand, not pulling away, as he usually does. and then he realizes that edwin is waiting for charles to kiss it better. and so he does—hesitant the whole time, in case he read edwin all wrong, up until edwin finally pulls his hand back seeming satisfied somehow, like charles has fulfilled some unspoken half of a bargain.
and that was twenty-some years ago. by now it’s just ingrained that every time charles tends to an injury of edwin’s, even one as minor as a paper cut from a page in edwin’s notebook, he kisses it better. edwin won’t move away until he does.
after edwin’s confession, things change. charles starts to notice that he feels a bit fluttery, the first time after hell that he leans in to press his lips to edwin’s scraped shoulder through a layer of bandage and the fabric of his shirt. and he tries to think nothing of it, only that then his mouth doesn’t connect with anything; because edwin has moved away, moved out of his reach, neatly risen out of the way of charles’s kiss so that he hovers, lips parted against empty air, feeling off-kilter and confused, something like hurt churning through him.
edwin had said he wanted nothing to change between them, and here edwin goes changing things himself. of course that hurts. but why does it hurt so much? and what was that fluttery feeling? and why can’t charles stop thinking about it?
#narrator voice: it was because charles loves edwin back#dbda#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency#payneland
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pillow princess
words: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, riding, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rafe calls reader kiddo/kid
“rafey.” you whine, stepping into all the chairs circled around, filled with topper, kelce and some other guys you recognize as rafes friends.
“what is it baby?” he questions, giving you his full attention despite all the boys sitting around. he doesn’t care that they see him being affectionate with you. its not like his manliness is in question.
“i miss you.” you complain. you were bored sitting upstairs in your bed all alone. you knew it was boys night. first they watched a game, then sat around and talked and drank, but you wanted your boyfriend, feeling extra clingy today.
“aww, come here kiddo.” rafe leans back, opening up his arms, letting you slot yourself onto his knee. you immediately lean your head against his shoulder, snuggling your body into his.
rafe holds you tight to him, fingers drumming against your thigh as the conversation immediately starts up again. you only pay half attention to it, most being about the game they just watched, or their max bench, whatever boy stuff they usually spend the time chatting about.
your ears perk up when the conversation changes to girlfriend and sex. “man, my girl rides me like a fucking jackrabbit.” one guy laughs, making your nose scrunch up.
the rest chime in, except for rafe. you're not sure if it's just because you're there or if he prefers to keep your sex life private.
“alright, boys.” rafe says. “better get going, my lady clearly needs me.”
you smile and blush, cheeks flaring. you bury your head in rafes shoulder as he says his goodbyes, his friends filling out the door. rafe makes sure it closes behind them before scooping you up, holding you in his arms, not even questioning if you want to be carried upstairs.
“rafe?” you hum as he sets you down on his bed. “you know i would ride you if you wanted it, right?”
rafe lets out a sudden laugh, confused by your question. “what brought this on baby?”
“just the guys… talking about their girlfriends riding them. i never do that for you.” you shrug.
rafe shakes his head. “i don't mind that you’re a pillow princess.”
you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “i am not a pillow princess!”
rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you are, but its okay. i like being on top.”
“but-but-” you stammer. “i’m not!” “okay, wanna prove it?” rafe questions, a smirk still playing on his lips, knowing exactly what he's goading you into doing.
“take your clothes off.” you challenge back.
rafe tugs his shirt over his head before pulling at his pants. he undresses quickly, watching as you stand up off the bed to take your tanktop and shorts off.
rafe climbs onto the bed once he’s stripped, leaning against the headboard with a lazy smile on his face. you blink at his dick, still mostly soft, resting against his thigh. usually rafe will eat you out or finger you and by the time you’re ready to fuck, he’s already hard.
“come on, show you’re not a pillow princess. get me hard.” rafe beckons you over.
you finish taking off your underwear before climbing onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. you reach for his cock, taking it in your hand, starting to stroke it as you watch with fascination as he hardens right under your fingertips.
“gonna suck me off too?” rafe questions.
“maybe.” you hum. you bend down, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, suckingling as your hand continues to stroke most of his length.
you work him until he’s completely hard before letting your mouth sink lower, taking as much as you comfortably can before setting a pace of moving back to just have the tip in your mouth to taking him fully.
“such a good girl.” rafe coos, placing a hand on the back of your head, but he doesn’t force you down, doesn’t help your movements. he lets you take control like you swore you could do.
you reach down between your legs as you suck him off. you’re a little wet, but it’s nothing like when rafe fingers you before sex, so you rub your clit as you flick your tongue over his length, his moans reaching your ears.
you pull off of his cock with a pop, already feeling tired of being in control. you wish rafe would have pushed himself down your throat, showed you just how he liked it, but he just watches you as you climb onto his lap.
you stroke his cock a few more times as you position yourself properly, hovering your cunt over his dick before slowly sinking down, letting out a moan as he fills you up, stretching slightly more than usual without as much prep.
“it feels different from this angle.” you admit, looking shyly down as you sit on rafes fat cock. you feel it twitch inside you, and you know he’s desperate for you to move from the strained look on his face.
you begin to bounce, placing your hands on his chest. you wish he would grab your waist or your ass, helping you move on his length, but he leaves it up to you as you grind your cunt down.
you already feel your legs beginning to get sore, your muscles not used to this type of motion as you already begin to slow down, ashamed at how fast you are ready to give up, so you try to power through, but to no avail.
“fine.” you give up. “i’m a pillow princess.”
rafe flips you over suddenly, pressing your back into the mattress. “i told you so. should have just listened to me, kid.”
you whine as you wrap your legs around his waist as rafe begins to thrust. “i just like this better.” you don’t want to admit that you got exhausted after a minute of writing, and you really do like rafe on top of you better, his hair falling around his forehead as he looks down at you.
“you’re so pretty baby, i don’t care that i have to do all the work.” rafe says as he pumps into you. “not when your pussy is this tight.”
you grab at rafes shoulders, pulling him down into you so you can press your lips together. rafe grabs your tit with one of his hands, keeping the other around your waist as he kisses you, tongue pushing inside of your mouth as another show of his dominance.
“gonna cum inside me?” you question.
“of course im gonna baby girl.” rafe says, sealing his promise with a kiss as he begins to move faster, digging deeper into your cunt.
“please.” you whimper, wanting to feel rafe release inside of you. you scratch your fingernails lightly down his back, making him shiver as his cock suddenly pulses, spurts of cum shooting into you.
“oh fuck, baby.” rafe moans as you clench around him, purposely milking him.
rafe collapses to the side of you, slipping out of your cunt, leaving his cum to slide out of your pussy onto the bedsheets.
rafe breathes deeply for a minute while you also try to get your breath back before he turns on his side, kissing your jawline and neck as he brings his hand back towards your pussy, but you shut your legs, squeezing your thighs tightly to deny him.
“but you didn’t cum yet.” rafe says with a pout, feeling like he failed if he can’t get you off too.
“i’m too tired, don’t wanna.” you admit with a shrug, feeling satisfied without the orgasm.
rafe can’t help the small chuckle that leaves his mouth. “you’re too tired from riding me for like two minutes? and you tried to argue that you’re not a pillow princess?” “yeah, whatever.” you roll your eyes. “just cuddle me.”
rafe nods, pulling you in with his big arms, letting you snuggle into his chest. “i love you princess.”
the words warm you, making your cheeks blush, never getting tired of hearing him say those three words as you tip your head up, letting your lips ghost over his. “i love you too.”
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby
#this is kinda rushed and i think i hate it :)#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fic#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fanfic#rafe cameron x you#outer banks x reader#outer banks fanfiction#obx x reader#obx fic
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older brother touya au, endeavor is still an asshole, shouto interacts w his siblings lol, bby shouto, hyper active kinda rough reader (you tackle shouto), shouto and touya have an unspecified age gap but i was thinkin like 10 years (so touya is 17 and shou is 7), just a liiiil bit angsty but mostly fluffy, lemme know if i missed sum else !
touya knows his little brother shouto is kinda weird.
he rarely ever sees him happy, or with any sort of emotion on his face for that matter. he has little habits that he hates not being able to follow and he's incredibly nit picky about them. he doesn't outwardly emote but that doesn't mean he couldn't be bratty when he wanted to be, cus he is but that's also about super specific weird stuff like what he wants to have for dinner (which always ends up being cold soba anyways).
he's also not much of a talker. he's a little shy, but he also just doesn't like talking. it's impossible to miss the huge red scar around his eye, he doesn't like to play outside and roughhouse like touya did when he was his age and he still doesn't have any friends at school. shouto never seemed to be bothered by it, though touya assumes that his peers might find him weird too.
except they better not, because touya's the only one who can call his brother weird. and deep down, he worries a little for him.
until he comes back home from school, his sweater is tucked out and there's a dirt stain on it. his hair is messy and his backpack is haphazardly closed, his little notebooks propped inside and his pencil case threatening to fall out.
natsuo, the one charged to pick him up that day, sheepishly scratches at his neck "he won't tell me what happened to him." he explains as touya practically charges towards shouto, he doesn't look hurt, so his older brother roughly turns him around to check his bag.
" but i told you what happened, natsu-nii."
"you don't have to lie, shouto--"
"what happened to you ?" touya cuts in, looking inside his brothers bag to check if nothing was missing, it looks intact from what he can tell.
"i played with my friend." shouto says simply, like that explains why he looked like he'd just walked through a hurricane. touya already knows he's gonna get an earful about this from his father. he inwardly groans.
"you sure your friend didn't just mug you ?" he flips his brother around and shouto's little arms flail as he does, unbothered by his brother's rough treatment. he tilts his head, touya sighs.
"bully you, i mean."
shouto's eyes widen, then he hurriedly shakes his head, denying him ever getting bullied and simply claiming he was playing. touya shares a look with natsuo, who looks just as unconvinced as him at his brothers words.
"who's this friend of yours, shou ?"
"yn."
"yn ?" both brothers say at the same time. shouto nods and touya catches a small little glint in his eyes as he looks back at him "she's really nice."
"this doesn't seem nice. you look like you got robbed." touya furrows his brows, sneering at his brothers dirty shirt. he starts dragging the youngest toward the bathroom. hopefully he'd be fully clean before their father got home and he wouldn't have to get in trouble. for god knows what reason. enji todoroki would probably find a way to place the blame on him, something about how he should've been the one to pick him up or gotten there earlier he guesses.
"yn likes to play games where you move around a lot." is what he offers as explanation. touya hums absentmindedly as he ushers his brother into the bathroom, deciding on how he should deal with his youngest brother's first ever bully. because of the age gap he doubts the kid is any smaller than his brother is, so he thinks he'll probably just try to scare off whoever this yn is.
"how 'bout i pick you up from school tomorrow and i can meet yn. that sound good ?" and shouto excitedly nods at the idea, gushing about how funny and nice you are and that you share your snacks with him. it's weird how fondly he talks about his bully, but touya knows his brother's always been a little weird, he probably has no idea what's happening to him. the thought makes him frown just a bit harder.
the next day after school, touya is already at the gates before they've even opened ready to scare the pants off of his brothers harasser. he sees shouto walking out of the gates with a few other kids, alone. the little boy perks up once he sees him and sends him a high wave, which touya returns with one of his own lazier one's.
"where's your friend ?" he tries his best not the spit the word too venomously, shouto doesn't seem to notice.
"yn is coming. her bag isn't closing well, so she told me to go ahead without her." he explains, reaching for his brother's hand absentmindedly.
touya is about to respond when he hears yelling. yelling that gets closer and closer to them until he notices too late that a little person is rushing towards his brother. before he can pull him out of the way the person has jumped onto shouto and knocked the both of them onto the ground. and touya watches flabbergasted as his younger brother does not look surprised at all, like shit like this just happened every tuesday. his mouth falls open when the little girl that had charged into his brother excitedly starts hopping slightly on top of him.
"shouto !"
"hi, yn."
touya is going to fucking lose his mind.
you get closer to shouto's face still sitting on him, touya assumes to make sure he could hear you even thought he doubts he couldn't before. " i thought ya left without me, i couldn't see you !"
shouto shakes his head, still on the floor "i said i would wait for you." he says seriously. and you practically beam, nudging your cheek to his and rubbing it against his affectionately. shouto doesn't seem fazed by it, but he definitely doesn't seem angry.
you don't seem like a bully, at least.
you finally realise you're not alone, looking up at touya strangely "who're you ?" you ask bluntly. shouto responds before he could. "touya- nii's my older brother, he's the one i wanted to show you."
you don't seem like a bully, especially not when you immediately turn to shouto the moment he opens his mouth, holding onto every word you hear. your eyes widen looking between touya and him, "that's your brother ?!" shouto nods proudly. you finally get off of him allowing shouto to get up too.
"coool !" you exclaim, but then you quickly turn towards shouto " but you're cooler, shouto !" shouto's eyes widen, before he almost bashfully looks away, claiming that his touya-nii is was way cooler than him. touya has never seen his brother this expressive before. it might not be much for others, and if he were anybody else he'd think so too. but even the fact his brows raise when you speak and he actually engages in conversation with you, as short as he keeps it, is surprising.
but from that small interaction, he can assume that you're not a bully. and he understands why his brother looked like he got jumped yesterday.
you're so much more different then him though, it's weird. you're hyper and giggly and chatty. you jump around and you can't seem to pull yourself away from shouto, who really doesn't seem unhappy although you're a bit rough about it. it’s like you’re glued to him.
shouto who barely even talks to his family talks to easily with you, even though you start the conversation all the time. shouto who only ever eats cold soba gleams at your promise to bring more snacks to share with him, like you apparently do every day. and shouto who touya barely ever sees emote, smiles when you tell him something funny. he can't tell wether his little brother smiles because he actually finds what you said funny or because you do. but whatever it is, it's making him happy.
touya is so shocked simply staring at his brother interact with another human being that he fails to use the little 'leave my brother alone if you know what's good for you.' speech he'd practiced the night before and suddenly you have to go. waving at him and shouto (not before hugging him with all your might first), who sadly waves back as he watches you leave. though he cheers up just a bit when with a last wave you tell him that you'll see him tomorrow.
touya, despite not having said a word feels incredibly tired, so he starts pulling his brother along home with him.
"so..that was your friend."
shouto nods "yn." he says.
"yn." touya parrots, eyes drifting from his brother to the road ahead of him. "she's kinda weird, huh ?"
at that, shouto's eyebrows furrow hard and he furiously shakes his head, tugging at his brother’s hand "no. she's nice." he corrects adamantly. touya stares at his brother, before looking away again "right.." he sighs "well, she seems to like you a lot."
his little brother nods again, a faint smile forms on his face "cus the people in class are mean to her. cus she's new and they say she's weird, but i don't think she is." he rambles, he actually rambles, touya blinks. he doesn't think he's ever been more surprised than he's been today. "yeah ?" is all he utters.
"yeah. people think i'm weird too, but yn says she thinks i'm cool." touya's eyes soften at his brothers words. he raises his arm up so his little brother is slightly lifted in the air. "course you're cool, you're my little brother." smiling softly to himself when shouto giggles.
touya knows that his little brother is weird, but he doesn't have to be worried anymore. cus it seems you like him, that you think he's cool and that you're weird too, in your own way. shouto keeps coming back home with dirty clothes and messy hair after that, but with happy and satisfied eyes and little candies he shares with his siblings that he made them promise to keep a secret. and he thinks his little brother will be fine, as weird as he is.
#btw dm my interchangeable use of shouto n shoto lmao#not proofread but will fix later !#shouto todoroki#shoto todoroki#shouto x you#shouto drabble#todoroki shouto x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#shoto x reader#shouto x reader#shoto x you#todoroki shoto x reader#shouto x y/n#shouto todoroki x reader#shouto todoroki x you#shoto todoroki x you#shoto x y/n#todoroki x reader#shoto drabble#this was a silly thing i randomly thought about#also super oc selfship coded lollololol#bby shoto#another childhood friends one whats new
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★ 'cause she's watching him with those eyes / and she's loving him with that body, i just know it / and he's holding her in his arms late, late at night / you know, i wish that i had jessie's girl / i wish that i had jessie's girl / where can i find a woman like that? ───JB⁹
⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 18k (a lot more than i expected...)
⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a college student navigates her complicated feelings for her charming yet infuriating neighbor, joe burrow, while dating the seemingly perfect linebacker. after a series of missteps, flirtatious teasing, and an unexpected kiss, she finds herself caught in a whirlwind of tension, confusion, and unexpected sparks, all while trying to avoid the loud, chaotic presence of joe and his ever-constant parade of girls.
⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | unedited (sorry... i got lazy), NSFW (with lots... and lots... AND LOTS of plot), unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it, kids) praise, teasing, lots of kissing/foreplay, p in v, uhhh.. descriptions of big dick joe??? enemies to lovers, roommates, mentions of drinking/alcohol, cheating (not on reader), joe being an asshole, cocky joe, lots of fighting, heated arguments.
⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | this has been in my drafts for a good 2 months and finally decided to finish it up on the sunday before american thanksgiving! so... yaya! please let me know your thoughts!
The muffled sound of Ja’Marr Chase’s bass-heavy playlist seeps through the thin walls of your apartment, rattling the picture frames you swore you hung up straight last week. The tiny LSU apartment complex, with its peeling beige paint and eternally broken elevator, has its charms—like the way the front door doesn’t lock unless you kick it just right or how the air conditioner only works when it’s below 70 degrees outside.
But Joe Burrow? He’s not one of those charms.
No, Joe Burrow is the bane of your existence, the human equivalent of a pothole on a road you have to take every day. His name alone makes your best friend, Ella, roll her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck in the back of her head. “Just ignore him,” she says every time you come storming through the door, ranting about whatever fresh annoyance he’s cooked up that day. “He only bothers you because you’re fun to mess with.”
Right. Like that’s supposed to make it better.
Living next door to Joe and Ja’Marr was tolerable at first. Sure, they were loud, occasionally messy, and probably violating a dozen lease terms, but it wasn’t personal. Then, you had one small misunderstanding—okay, so maybe you yelled at Joe for leaving his bike in front of your door after you tripped over it—and now it’s like he’s made it his life’s mission to drive you insane.
Sometimes, it’s harmless: an obnoxious smirk when you cross paths on the way to class or his sarcastic comments about how you always seem to be spilling coffee on your shirt. Other times, it’s borderline infuriating: stealing your parking spot, taking the last box of cinnamon rolls at the grocery store, or claiming the shared apartment complex grill for “official game day business” every single Saturday.
Still, there’s something annoyingly magnetic about him, even when you want to wring his neck. The way his eyes crinkle when he’s laughing at his own jokes. The stupid mop of curls he somehow manages to pull off. The effortless confidence that borders on cocky, though you’d never say it out loud because that’s exactly the kind of thing that would go straight to his head.
Ella always jokes that you two are like an old married couple, constantly bickering but secretly loving it. You disagree. Mostly because Joe already has enough people falling at his feet—like the swarm of girls in purple-and-gold jerseys who show up at the apartment complex every other week, giggling like they’re auditioning for a reality show.
You sigh, brushing a stray crumb off the countertop as Ella flops onto the couch behind you, textbook in hand. And if his stupid grin when he sees you on your balcony later tonight is any indication, he’s already got something planned.
You just don’t know it yet.
The parking lot outside your apartment complex is a war zone at 11 p.m., with far too many cars crammed into a space that was clearly designed with only half the residents in mind. You circle the lot for the third time, your headlights cutting through the dark like a searchlight on some hopeless mission. After eight grueling hours at the campus library helping undergrads figure out why their printers are possessed, your brain feels like oatmeal, and all you want is to collapse into your bed.
But, of course, tonight isn’t going to be that simple.
Because there he is. Joe freaking Burrow.
He’s in his Jeep—windows down, music playing softly, and, naturally, there’s a blonde perched in the passenger seat laughing at something he said. Of course, he found the last available spot. Except—it’s not his spot, because you saw it first. Your blinker’s been on since the beginning of time (or at least the last 30 seconds), and you refuse to back down now.
Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as he slowly starts to reverse into the spot, like he hasn’t noticed your very obvious claim to it. Heart pounding with a mix of exhaustion and indignation, you tap your horn. Just once. Polite, but firm. He stops, glances in his rearview mirror, and then—of course—he smirks.
Oh, hell no.
You roll down your window and lean out. “Hey, Burrow! I was waiting for that spot.”
He leans his elbow casually against the window frame, his curls catching the faint glow of the streetlight. “Were you? Didn’t see your name on it.” His voice is slow, lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world to be a pain in your ass.
You glare at him, barely suppressing the urge to snap. “I was here first.”
“And I started reversing first,” he counters, raising an eyebrow like it’s a debate class and not a parking lot at nearly midnight. The blonde giggles beside him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Just let me have it. You look like you could use the exercise.”
Oh, he’s done it now.
“Excuse me?” Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you’re too far gone to care. “I’ve been on my feet for eight hours dealing with entitled freshmen, and if you think I’m about to let you—”
“Alright, alright,” Joe interrupts, hands raised in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not trying to ruin your night.” He throws the Jeep into drive, and with a dramatic sigh, he pulls away, leaving the spot open for you. But not without one last parting comment. “Don’t scratch the paint when you park. Oh, wait—you’re really close to that pole—”
You park with excessive precision, throwing your car into park before leaning out the window to call after him. “I didn’t ask for your help, Joe!”
His laugh echoes across the parking lot, carefree and infuriating. You slam your door shut a little harder than necessary, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you trudge toward the building. Finally, peace.
Or so you think.
Because just as you reach the elevator, its ding announcing its arrival, you hear the telltale sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete and—because your luck is absolute trash—Joe freaking Burrow strolls in behind you, Blonde Giggles McGee still glued to his side.
“Hey, neighbor,” he says casually, stepping into the elevator with you like he didn’t just steal and relinquish a parking spot out of sheer pettiness. The blonde gives you a wide, vaguely clueless smile, her gum snapping between her teeth.
You press the button for the third floor with a pointed jab and cross your arms, leaning against the elevator wall as Joe and his date take their sweet time figuring out which floor they’re going to. The door finally slides shut, and the tension in the small space is unbearable.
“So,” the blonde says brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “you guys, like, live here? That’s so fun! Like, neighbors and stuff. Wow.”
Your lips press into a tight smile, trying to avoid eye contact with Joe, who you can feel grinning at you like this is the highlight of his week. “Yep. Fun,” you reply curtly, forcing the word out like it’s laced with acid.
Joe’s shoulders shake slightly, and you realize he’s laughing. He glances at you, and there’s that damn smirk again, like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it. “She’s real talkative tonight,” he says, tilting his head toward you. “Usually, she’s got more to say.”
You turn to him with a withering glare. “Don’t you have something else to do, Burrow?”
Before he can reply, the elevator lurches slightly as it comes to a stop on your floor. You step out quickly, muttering a polite “Good night” that is entirely devoid of warmth. Joe follows, his pace annoyingly casual as he throws one last look over his shoulder.
“See you around, neighbor,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
You don’t look back.
The smell of cheap ramen hits you the moment you open the door to your apartment. It’s comforting, in a way—familiar, like Ella’s answer to every late-night craving or bad day. She’s in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove, barefoot and wearing the oversized LSU sweatshirt you’d bought together during freshman year.
“You’re late,” she says without looking up, her voice light with mock reproach. “Was the library on fire, or did you stop to fight Burrow in the parking lot again?”
You kick off your shoes with a sigh, tossing your bag onto the couch. “Option B. Obviously.”
That gets her attention. She turns, spoon in hand, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? It’s, like, midnight. You two are going to give each other aneurysms before graduation.”
You slump into one of the kitchen chairs, letting your forehead hit the table dramatically. “He stole my parking spot. Had the audacity to smirk about it, too. And then—get this—I got stuck in the elevator with him and some girl who wouldn’t stop talking about how ‘fun’ it is to have neighbors.” You lift your head to glare at Ella, who is now struggling to hold back a laugh. “I’m cursed. That man is my curse.”
Ella snorts, pouring the ramen into two mismatched bowls. “He’s not your curse. He’s just a guy with too much charm and not enough common sense. And clearly, you’re living rent-free in his head, which, honestly, is kind of impressive considering he’s got a playbook in there.”
You accept the bowl she slides across the table, your stomach growling despite your lingering irritation. “I don’t want to live in his head. I want him to stop being so… so Joe all the time.”
Ella sits across from you, propping her chin in her hand with a sly grin. “Are you sure? You seem to spend a lot of time talking about him.”
You glare at her over a mouthful of noodles. “Don’t start.”
But she’s already started, her grin widening. “I’m just saying, it’s giving sexual tension.”
You nearly choke, coughing as you wave her off. “Nope. Absolutely not. There’s no tension. Only irritation. And rage. And an overwhelming desire to see him move to a different apartment complex.”
Ella laughs, leaning back in her chair. “Whatever you say, babe. But for the record, I think you secretly enjoy it.”
You open your mouth to argue, but before you can form a retort, there’s a knock at the door. Both of you freeze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.
“You expecting someone?” Ella whispers, her tone suddenly conspiratorial.
“No,” you whisper back, your heart sinking as a horrible suspicion creeps over you.
Ella gestures for you to check, and with a deep, resigned breath, you shuffle to the door, bowl still in hand. You crack it open just enough to see who’s on the other side, and—because the universe apparently hates you—there he is. Joe Burrow, in all his smug, infuriating glory, holding a box of cinnamon rolls.
“Hey, neighbor,” he says, his grin infuriatingly wide. “Figured I owed you something for stealing your spot.”
You stare at him, speechless, for a moment. Then, finally, you manage, “It’s 11:30 at night.”
He shrugs, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable time for a peace offering. “Better late than never, right?”
From behind you, Ella’s voice rings out, barely containing her amusement. “Is that Joe? Invite him in!”
You turn to glare at her, silently vowing revenge, but when you look back at Joe, he’s already stepping inside like he owns the place.
“Nice place,” he says, glancing around before holding up the box. “So… cinnamon roll?”
You sigh, shutting the door behind him. It’s going to be a long night.
Joe leans casually against the counter, still holding the box of cinnamon rolls like he’s been invited to stay for a late-night hangout. You narrow your eyes at him, folding your arms. “So, what’s this about, really? Cinnamon rolls aren’t exactly your style.”
“Wow, judgmental much?” he says with a mock-wounded expression. “What if I just wanted to be neighborly?”
Ella snickers softly behind you, spooning up her ramen as she watches the exchange like it’s prime-time TV.
Joe grins, ignoring your skepticism. “Actually,” he says, setting the box on the counter with a little too much flourish, “I’m out of sugar. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”
You blink at him, incredulous. “Sugar? You came over at almost midnight to borrow sugar?”
“Yup,” he says, popping the “p” for emphasis, completely unbothered by your glare.
Ella, ever the peacemaker—or enabler, depending on the situation—sets her bowl down and gets up to rummage through the cabinets. “We’ve got some,” she says reluctantly, pulling out a small bag. She walks over and places it in Joe’s outstretched hand, but not without narrowing her eyes at him. “You better bring this back, Burrow. Or at least repay us with something better than cinnamon rolls.”
“Noted,” he says with a charming smile, tucking the bag under his arm. He turns to you, his grin softening into something almost teasing. “Thanks, neighbor. You’re a real lifesaver.”
You don’t bother replying, instead stepping aside so he can leave. He makes his way to the door, pausing for a moment. “Oh, and don’t forget to check your parking job in the morning,” he says with a wink before slipping out into the hallway.
The second the door clicks shut, you groan, slumping against the counter. Ella bursts into laughter, practically doubling over as she grabs her bowl again. “You two are ridiculous,” she says between bites.
“I’m moving out,” you mutter, dragging yourself to the couch. “I don’t care if it’s to a cardboard box in the quad. It’ll be quieter than this.”
You think that’s the end of it—Joe’s random sugar-borrowing adventure, Ella’s endless teasing—but of course, you’re wrong. Because a few hours later, just as you’re finally starting to drift off in the tiny bedroom you call your sanctuary, you hear it.
A muffled giggle. A low, rumbling voice you’d recognize anywhere. Then, unmistakably, the rhythmic creak of a bed frame against the wall.
Your eyes snap open, and for a moment, you pray you’re imagining things. Maybe it’s a nightmare—a cruel joke your overtired brain is playing on you. But then you hear it again, louder this time, followed by a very enthusiastic “Oh my God, Joey!”
You groan, grabbing your pillow and pressing it over your ears.
From the other side of the wall, Ella’s muffled voice reaches you through the darkness. “Is that…?”
“Yes,” you hiss, your voice barely audible through the pillow. “It’s him.”
She snorts, and you can hear her shifting in her bed. “Well, at least he’s getting good use out of that sugar.”
You let out a strangled laugh, torn between exhaustion and disbelief. “I swear, if this goes on all night—”
As if on cue, there’s another creak, louder this time, followed by more giggling and exaggerated moaning.
Ella sighs. “Thin walls, huh?”
“Apparently,” you mutter, rolling onto your side and glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended you.
The noises continue—giggles, muffled moans, the occasional thud that makes you wince. You bury your face in your pillow, silently cursing Joe Burrow and his audacity.
It’s going to be a very, very long night.
The next morning comes too soon. Despite the symphony of creaks, giggles, and thuds that plagued the night, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, bleary-eyed and cranky. The coffee pot sputters as you pour yourself a life-saving cup, muttering curses at your neighbor under your breath. Ella, still in her pajamas, watches you from the couch with an amused smirk.
“You look alive,” she teases, spooning cereal into her mouth. “Barely.”
“I hate him,” you say flatly, taking a long sip of coffee.
“Sure you do,” she singsongs.
You don’t dignify her with a response, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.
As luck—or fate—would have it, the universe isn’t done with you yet. Because just as you’re locking your apartment door, you hear the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking down the hallway.
You glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it.
There she is. Last night’s Blonde of the Hour, strutting toward the elevator with a walk of shame so confident it might as well be a victory lap. She’s wearing Joe’s oversized LSU hoodie, paired with last night’s skirt and heels. Her hair is tousled, but she doesn’t seem to care.
And because the universe apparently has a sense of humor, she notices you at the same time you notice her.
“Morning!” she chirps, her voice way too chipper for someone who clearly didn’t sleep much.
You press your lips together to keep from laughing, nodding in acknowledgment. “Morning.”
The two of you step into the elevator together, the silence stretching awkwardly between you. You steal a glance at her from the corner of your eye, wondering if she has any idea that her night of “fun” ruined yours. But then she sighs and adjusts the sleeves of Joe’s hoodie, completely unbothered, and you realize she probably doesn’t care.
The doors slide open to the lobby, and you step out first, your pace brisk as you make a beeline for the exit. But as you push through the glass doors into the bright morning sunlight, you nearly collide with none other than Joe Burrow himself.
He’s leaning against his car, coffee cup in hand, looking far too put together for someone who should be as tired as you. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, then flick over to the blonde trailing behind.
“Morning, neighbor,” he says, his voice laced with amusement.
“Morning,” you reply dryly, brushing past him toward your car.
But of course, he can’t just let it go. “Sleep well?”
You stop dead in your tracks, turning to glare at him. His smirk is infuriatingly smug, and you can’t tell if he’s genuinely clueless or just messing with you.
“Thin walls,” you say pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
His smirk falters for half a second before he recovers, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Noted.”
The blonde, oblivious to the tension, giggles. “Joe, you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so fun!”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead unlocking your car with more force than necessary. “Oh, we’re a blast,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into the driver’s seat.
As you pull out of the parking lot, you catch a glimpse of Joe in your rearview mirror, still leaning against his car, watching you leave. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—amusement, maybe, or curiosity—but you don’t have the energy to figure it out.
Later that afternoon, when you’re back in your apartment trying to catch up on work, Ella pops her head into the living room with a mischievous grin.
“Guess who I ran into at the coffee shop?”
You glance up warily. “Who?”
“Joe,” she says, plopping down on the couch. “He said he’s planning a little ‘building mixer’ this weekend. Invited everyone on the floor. Including us.”
You groan, letting your head fall back against the couch. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to some Burrow-hosted mixer.”
“Oh, come on,” Ella says, nudging you with her foot. “It could be fun. Free food, free drinks… awkward encounters with your mortal enemy…”
You glare at her, but she just laughs. “You’re going,” she says firmly. “I already RSVP’d for us.”
And just like that, you realize your week is about to get a whole lot more complicated.
Saturday night rolls around faster than you’d like, and with it comes the so-called “mixer” that Joe Burrow somehow convinced Ella you had to attend. You’d held onto the slim hope that it would be a small, quiet gathering of your neighbors in the building, with maybe some snacks, polite small talk, and an early exit for you.
Instead, you step off the elevator into what can only be described as chaos. The hallway is packed with people, the distant thrum of music vibrating through the walls. Someone’s yelling about finding the keg, and the faint scent of spilled beer and cologne wafts toward you.
“This is not a mixer,” you mutter to Ella as you both navigate your way through the crowd.
Ella, of course, looks thrilled. She’s dolled up in a crop top and high-waisted jeans, her hair and makeup perfectly done. “Relax,” she says, looping her arm through yours. “It’s just a party. Have a drink, let loose. Who knows? You might even have fun.”
You highly doubt that, but before you can argue, she spots Ja’Marr Chase leaning against the doorway to Joe’s apartment and perks up immediately. “I’ll catch up with you later!” she says, already untangling herself from your arm and heading toward him.
“Ella!” you call after her, but she’s too busy tossing a flirty smile Ja’Marr’s way to notice.
Great. Now you’re alone in the middle of a party that feels like half of LSU showed up to, surrounded by strangers and sticky floors. You push your way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab a drink and then find a corner to blend into until Ella decides it’s time to leave.
But, because the universe apparently loves messing with you, you hear his voice before you see him.
“Well, well, look who decided to show up.”
You groan internally and turn to see Joe leaning against the counter, a Solo cup in hand and that ever-present smirk on his face. He’s dressed casually in a fitted t-shirt and jeans, but somehow still manages to look like he owns the place—which, technically, he does.
“I’m only here because Ella dragged me,” you say, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Joe chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Come on, admit it. You’re having the time of your life.”
“Yeah, sure,” you deadpan. “Sticky floors and loud music are exactly my idea of fun.”
He grins, clearly enjoying your irritation. “You know, if you wanted to hang out with me so badly, you could’ve just asked. No need to pretend Ella dragged you here.”
“I—” You stop yourself, realizing there’s no point in arguing. It’s exactly what he wants. Instead, you grab a bottle of water from the counter and turn to leave.
“Hey, hold up,” he says, stepping in front of you. “You’re not just gonna drink water all night, are you?”
“Yes, Joe, I am,” you say, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block you.
“At least let me get you a real drink,” he says, gesturing toward the makeshift bar someone set up on the other side of the room. “I make a mean rum and Coke.”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, stepping aside, but not before adding, “But you’re missing out. My bartending skills are unmatched.”
You roll your eyes and head toward the living room, finding a spot near the wall where you can observe without being dragged into the chaos. You sip your water and watch as Joe works the room, effortlessly charming everyone he talks to.
About an hour later, you’re starting to regret not leaving when Ella abandoned you. You’ve been stuck making awkward small talk with strangers, and the music is only getting louder.
Then Ella appears out of nowhere, grabbing your arm with a giggle. “Come with me,” she says, pulling you toward the corner where Joe and some of his teammates are lounging on a worn-out sectional.
“Why?” you ask, resisting her tug.
“Because Ja’Marr wants to introduce me to his friends, and I don’t want to go alone!”
You sigh, reluctantly following her over. Ja’Marr greets Ella with a grin, and she practically melts under his attention. You, on the other hand, find yourself stuck sitting next to Joe, who looks far too pleased about the arrangement.
“Miss me already?” he asks, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music.
“Not even a little,” you reply, glaring at him.
He chuckles, clearly unbothered. “You’re really bad at hiding how much you enjoy my company, you know that?”
You open your mouth to retort, but before you can, one of his teammates interrupts. “Yo, Burrow, who’s this?”
“This,” Joe says, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “is my lovely neighbor.”
“Neighbor, huh?” the guy says, raising an eyebrow. “You two seem… close.”
You snort. “Not even remotely.”
Joe grins, slinging an arm over the back of the couch behind you. “Don’t listen to her,” he says. “She’s just shy.”
You shoot him a withering look, but he only laughs, clearly enjoying himself.
As the night drags on, Joe makes it his personal mission to annoy you. Every time you try to leave, he finds a way to pull you back into the conversation, teasing you relentlessly. His teammates, to their credit, seem amused by the dynamic, occasionally chiming in with their own jokes.
By the time Ella finally decides she’s ready to leave, you’re exhausted—physically and emotionally. You practically sprint for the door, eager to escape Joe’s smirk and the endless teasing.
As you step into the hallway, he calls after you, “See you around, neighbor!”
You don’t bother responding, instead dragging Ella toward the elevator. But as you press the button for your floor, you can’t help but feel like you haven’t seen the last of Joe Burrow tonight—or any night, for that matter.
The next week at LSU passes like any other, but somehow, Joe Burrow has managed to worm his way into your daily routine. It starts small—running into him at the mailboxes, hearing his muffled laughter through the thin walls at ungodly hours, and the occasional “good morning, neighbor!” shouted across the courtyard when you’re clearly not in the mood.
It’s maddening, really, the way he seems to delight in being everywhere you don’t want him to be. And yet, despite your annoyance, you can’t deny that his presence makes life just a little more… interesting.
FRIDAY NIGHT
Ella bursts through the apartment door, her face lit up with excitement. You’re sprawled on the couch, flipping through lecture notes and wishing the week would end already.
“Guess what!” she exclaims, tossing her bag onto the counter.
“Let me guess,” you say dryly. “Ja’Marr invited you to another party?”
“Close,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Ja’Marr and Joe are throwing a tailgate tomorrow before the game, and we’re invited.”
You groan, already dreading the idea of spending yet another afternoon dodging Joe’s incessant teasing. “I’m busy,” you lie.
“You’re coming,” Ella insists, plopping down next to you. “It’s practically a campus tradition, and besides, you could use a little fun.”
“Fun,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what we’re calling being forced to socialize with half of LSU now?”
Ella rolls her eyes. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Food, drinks, and—” she grins mischievously—“a chance to hang out with your favorite quarterback.”
You glare at her. “Joe Burrow is not my favorite anything.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing you. “Wear something cute. We’re leaving at noon.”
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
The tailgate is, unsurprisingly, a spectacle. Rows of tents stretch across the field, decked out in purple and gold, with grills smoking and music blasting. Students and alumni alike mill about, laughing and chatting as they gear up for the game.
You follow Ella through the crowd, clutching a plastic cup of soda and trying to blend in. She, of course, makes a beeline for Ja’Marr, who’s manning the grill with an ease that suggests he’s done this a thousand times.
And where there’s Ja’Marr, there’s Joe.
He spots you almost immediately, his trademark smirk spreading across his face as he waves you over. “Hey, neighbor! Glad you could make it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, but he’s already stepping closer, his easy confidence making it impossible to ignore him.
“What, no hug?” he teases, holding his arms out dramatically.
“Not in this lifetime,” you reply, sidestepping him.
Ella, now fully engrossed in a conversation with Ja’Marr, leaves you to fend for yourself. You glance around, debating whether to make a run for it, but Joe blocks your path, clearly amused by your discomfort.
“You’re really bad at this whole socializing thing, aren’t you?” he says, leaning casually against the nearest table.
“Maybe I just don’t enjoy your company,” you retort, taking a sip of your drink.
He grins. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here.”
Before you can respond, one of his teammates calls his name, distracting him long enough for you to slip away. You find a quieter spot near the edge of the field, letting the noise of the crowd fade into the background.
But, of course, Joe finds you again.
“Thought you’d try to escape, huh?” he says, appearing at your side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I wasn’t escaping,” you lie, crossing your arms.
“Sure you weren’t.” He pauses, glancing at the crowd. “Not a fan of tailgates?”
“Not a fan of crowds,” you admit.
He nods, surprisingly serious for once. “Fair enough. They’re not for everyone.”
You glance at him, caught off guard by the genuine tone in his voice. It’s a rare moment of sincerity from someone who seems to live for getting under your skin.
And then, just as quickly, the moment passes.
“Still,” he says, his smirk returning, “you’ve got to admit, the food’s pretty good. Ja’Marr’s burgers? Best on campus.”
The party stretched well into the night, turning the once-bustling tailgate into a dimly lit, hazy scene of music, laughter, and scattered conversations. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated these kinds of events. The air was warm, the smell of grilled food and spilled beer thick, but for once, you weren’t faking a smile just to survive.
Instead, you were leaning against a folding chair near the makeshift DJ booth, chatting with a guy named Wes. He was a linebacker for LSU, though, by his own admission, mostly a benchwarmer. Shy, soft-spoken, and refreshingly normal, Wes wasn’t at all what you expected to find at a party like this.
“You’re telling me you’ve never been to Mike’s cage?” he asked, his voice slightly raised to be heard over the music.
You laughed. “I don’t know, it just never seemed like a big deal to me. It’s a tiger.”
His eyes widened in mock offense. “It’s not just a tiger. It’s our tiger.”
“Okay, okay, maybe I’ll check it out sometime,” you said, grinning at his enthusiasm.
From the corner of your eye, you caught movement, and instinctively, you glanced over. There, leaning against the bar table, was Joe.
His usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his jaw was tight, and his eyes were fixed on you and Wes.
The sight of his uncharacteristically cold expression sent a jolt through you. Was he annoyed? No, that didn’t make sense. He didn’t care about you, not really.
Wes was saying something about the tiger habitat, but your attention flickered back to Joe. His knuckles whitened around the edge of his red Solo cup, and he seemed to be muttering something to Ja’Marr, who only shrugged in response.
“Everything okay?” Wes asked, his brow furrowed as he followed your gaze.
You blinked, forcing yourself to refocus. “Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?”
Joe, however, was impossible to ignore. At one point, he stormed past your little corner of the party, brushing close enough that you could feel the heat of his arm against yours.
Wes had just finished telling a story about his first LSU practice, his nervous laughter making you smile, when Joe’s voice cut through the conversation like a jagged knife.
“Nice to see you making friends,” he said, his tone just sharp enough to raise the hairs on your neck.
You turned to find Joe standing a few feet away, his trademark smirk forced and strained. He wasn’t looking at you but at Wes, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite place.
“Hey, Burrow,” Wes said, his voice even but noticeably quieter.
Joe stepped closer, ignoring you entirely as he clapped Wes on the shoulder. “Wesley Evans, right? Linebacker extraordinaire.” His words were light, almost teasing, but there was a strange undertone to them.
“Uh, yeah,” Wes said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Though ‘extraordinaire’ might be a bit of a stretch.”
Joe chuckled, his laugh cold. “Oh, come on. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, someone’s got to keep the bench warm, right?”
The group went silent.
You froze, your stomach dropping as the words settled over the conversation like a wet blanket. Wes’s easygoing demeanor faltered for just a moment—just long enough for you to catch the flicker of hurt in his eyes.
But he recovered quickly, letting out a forced laugh. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta do it.”
“Joe,” Ja’Marr said sharply, stepping forward. “That was uncalled for.”
Joe raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering. “What? I was just joking.”
“No, you weren’t,” Ja’Marr said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You stared at Joe, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and confusion. What was his problem? You’d seen him tease people before, but this was something else. This was cruel.
Joe’s eyes finally flicked to yours, and for a brief second, something like regret flashed across his face. But just as quickly, he turned away, muttering, “Whatever,” before stalking off into the crowd.
The group stood in awkward silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
“I’m sorry about that,” you said softly, turning to Wes.
He shook his head, forcing a smile. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”
But you could see the way his shoulders sagged, the way his fingers tightened around the edge of his cup.
Ja’Marr sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not usually like that.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.
Ja’Marr shot you a look but said nothing. The group eventually dispersed, the easy energy of the night soured by the encounter.
And as you followed Ella home later, you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your head, trying to piece together why Joe Burrow seemed so determined to ruin the night—not just for you, but for Wes, too.
The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the faint buzz of crickets and distant party music filling the air as you and Ella navigated the dimly lit sidewalks. The night had been long, and your head was still spinning from Joe’s earlier outburst. You’d always known him to be annoying, maybe even a little infuriating, but tonight was different. There was a sharpness to him, an edge that left you unsettled.
Ella broke the silence first, her voice soft. “What do you think that was about? With Joe, I mean.”
You shrugged, kicking a loose pebble down the pavement. “Who knows? Maybe he ran out of people to torture and decided to branch out.”
Ella laughed lightly but didn’t press further. By the time you reached your apartment complex, the cool night air had started to seep into your skin, making you shiver. All you could think about was collapsing into bed and forgetting this day ever happened.
But, of course, Joe Burrow had other plans.
There he was, right in front of your door, pressed up against yet another blonde, her manicured nails tangled in his hair as they made out like the world was ending.
You stopped dead in your tracks, Ella nearly bumping into you.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath.
At the sound of your voice, Joe broke away from his hookup, turning to face you with a smirk that was equal parts shameless and infuriating.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Wes not invite you over for a post-party study session?”
Your jaw tightened. “Get out of the way, Burrow.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “What’s the rush? You don’t want to hang out? I can introduce you to…uh…” He glanced at the girl beside him, snapping his fingers as if trying to remember her name.
The blonde giggled, clearly unbothered. “Stephanie,” she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Right. Stephanie,” Joe said, his grin widening.
Ella groaned softly beside you, crossing her arms. “Joe, move. We’re tired.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, stepping aside but not before leaning casually against the doorframe, effectively blocking your path again. “But seriously, where’s Wes? Thought you two were hitting it off. Or is he back on the bench already?”
“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, finally losing the last shred of patience you had left.
Joe straightened up, clearly surprised by the sudden bite in your tone. “What? I’m just messing around.”
“No, you’re being a jerk,” you shot back. “First, you humiliate Wes at the party, and now you’re standing here, rubbing it in like it’s some kind of joke. What’s your problem?”
Stephanie shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between you and Joe. “Uh, maybe we should—”
“Not now,” Joe cut her off, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. He didn’t even look at her, his eyes locked on yours.
Stephanie’s mouth fell open in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Just go,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm.
For a moment, the three of you stood frozen, the tension hanging thick in the air. Then, with an indignant huff, Stephanie grabbed her purse and stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the pavement.
Ella’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath.
Joe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply before turning back to you. “Happy now?”
“No,” you said, crossing your arms. “You’re still here.”
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re acting like I committed some crime. I was just joking, okay? It’s not my fault you can’t take a little teasing.”
“Teasing?” you repeated, incredulous. “Joe, you embarrassed Wes in front of everyone tonight. And for what? To make yourself feel better? To prove you’re the big man on campus?”
His jaw clenched, the cocky facade cracking ever so slightly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then enlighten me,” you challenged, taking a step closer. “Why do you always have to be such an ass?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his gaze dropping to the ground. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and tense. “Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention.”
Your breath caught, his words hitting like a punch to the gut. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of his door slamming echoing through the quiet hallway.
Ella let out a low whistle. “Well, that was…something.”
You stared after him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something.”
“Did he just…?” Ella’s voice was barely a whisper beside you.
You swallowed hard, not trusting yourself to speak. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It wasn’t like Joe to be vulnerable—hell, he practically lived to get under your skin. And yet, there it was, hanging in the air: the truth you never asked for, wrapped up in all his stupid teasing and annoying antics.
“Forget it,” you finally muttered, fumbling with your keys as you moved to unlock the door. “He’s just trying to mess with me.”
“Uh-huh,” Ella said slowly, following you inside. “Because, you know, the guy who just ditched a hot blonde to argue with you at midnight clearly doesn’t care.”
You shot her a glare, unwilling to entertain the idea. “I’m going to bed.”
Ella raised her hands in surrender, smirking knowingly as she headed for her room. “Okay, but don’t act surprised when he shows up tomorrow. He’s not exactly the type to let things go.”
“Goodnight, Ella,” you said firmly, shutting your bedroom door behind you.
But as you lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t get his words out of your head. Maybe because it’s the only way to get your attention. Was he serious? Or was this just another game to him, a way to throw you off-balance and make you question everything?
With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over, punching your pillow as if it was somehow Joe’s fault that you couldn’t sleep. Whatever his deal was, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin any more than he already had.
But deep down, you knew it was too late. Because whether you liked it or not, Joe Burrow had already wormed his way into your thoughts—and no amount of denial was going to change that.
The next morning, you woke up to a series of loud knocks on your door, far too early for any sane person to be awake. Groaning, you pulled the covers over your head, but the knocking continued, persistent and unrelenting.
“Go away!” you yelled, but the noise didn’t stop.
With a huff, you threw off the blankets and stumbled out of bed, yanking open the door with every intention of giving whoever it was a piece of your mind.
But, of course, it was Joe.
He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe like he hadn’t just woken you up at the crack of dawn, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Morning, neighbor.”
You stared at him, too stunned and too tired to muster a response.
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he said, his tone annoyingly chipper.
“I wasn’t,” you snapped, rubbing your eyes. “What the hell do you want?”
His smile widened, and he held up a to-go coffee cup, the LSU logo bright against the paper sleeve. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up.”
You blinked at the cup, then at him, suspicion rising. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he said, still holding it out. “Just coffee. Truce?”
You hesitated, the words from last night still lingering between you. But, against your better judgment, you reached for the cup, your fingers brushing his for a brief second. “Fine. Truce. For now.”
His eyes gleamed, like he’d just won some kind of invisible battle. “I’ll take it.” He turned to leave but paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and by the way—I’m not going anywhere.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the doorway with a coffee cup in hand and the distinct feeling that, somehow, things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.
Things between you and Wes have been going really well. You’ve been texting each other daily since that first meeting in the quad, and his messages always seem to bring a smile to your face. Some days, you talk about classes and the usual college chaos—complaining about professors who seem to thrive on assigning last-minute papers, laughing over campus gossip, or sharing music recommendations.
Other days, the conversations drift into deeper topics: family, future dreams, and the things you never thought you’d share with someone you’d barely known a few weeks ago. It's easy, effortless, and you feel like you've known him forever. There's a connection that grows stronger with each passing day, his texts becoming a constant you look forward to amid the swirl of college life.
When game days roll around, you make sure to watch, even if football has never been your thing. You learn enough of the basics to text him encouragement before each game and tease him when his team makes a stupid play. And every single time he wins, you get a photo of him in his jersey, sweaty and glowing with victory, his smile so wide you can feel it through the screen.
One crisp Saturday evening after a particularly big game—a win that had the entire stadium roaring and chanting for more—your phone buzzes. It’s Wes, as expected, but this time the message is different.
Wes: Big win tonight. You should come out to celebrate—party at the house. It'll be fun, promise.
You hesitate for a moment. Frat parties aren’t usually your scene, but the idea of seeing Wes in person after weeks of building up this text-based connection makes your heart beat a little faster. It feels like the right time to finally break out of the comfort of your phone screen. You don’t want to overthink it, so you respond quickly.
You: Okay, I’ll come! What time? Wes: Perfect. Starts at 9, but I’ll be there around 10. Meet me out front? I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.
You can’t help but laugh at that—his protective side has become more apparent lately, and you find it kind of endearing. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of anticipation. You try on half your wardrobe, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness that makes your stomach flutter. After way too much deliberation, you settle on something that’s cute but comfortable—a black crop top, jeans that fit just right, and your favorite sneakers. Casual, but you don’t want to come off like you’re trying too hard.
The party was in full swing by the time you and Wes went in, the familiar buzz of laughter and music filling the air. His arm rested loosely around your shoulders as you made your way through the packed house, a red solo cup already in his hand. It was a typical LSU post-game celebration—teammates hyped up from their win, students eager for a reason to cut loose, and just enough chaos to keep things interesting.
Wes, ever the golden retriever type, was all smiles as he greeted his teammates. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you plastered on your own smile. Wes was great—sweet, thoughtful, and good-looking to boot—but there was something missing. Conversations with him always felt a little too polished, like he was sticking to a script.
Still, you weren’t going to let your wandering thoughts ruin the night. As he led you toward the makeshift bar in the kitchen, you decided to let loose a little, leaning into his world for the evening.
You were two drinks in when you felt it—a shift in the air that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Glancing across the room, your eyes locked with Joe’s. He was leaning casually against the wall, his cup dangling from his fingers as he laughed at something Ja’Marr said. But his focus wasn’t on his teammate—it was on you.
That look.
You’d seen it before, the one that screamed I’m up to something. Your stomach twisted as his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
“What’s wrong?” Wes asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.
“Nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”
Wes didn’t notice your distraction, too busy rambling about the game. You nodded along, but your attention kept drifting back to Joe. He was still watching, and now he was moving.
Straight toward you.
“Wesley,” Joe said, his voice louder than necessary as he clapped a hand on Wes’s shoulder. “Man of the hour! Hell of a game tonight.”
Wes beamed, his chest puffing out a little. “Thanks, Burrow. That means a lot coming from you.”
“Oh, don’t mention it,” Joe said smoothly, his grin sharpening. “You’re really making a name for yourself out there.” He paused, his tone dipping just enough to make the compliment feel off. “You’ve got a solid five minutes of playing time this season, right?”
Wes laughed, missing the sarcasm entirely. “Yeah, Coach says I’m improving every week.”
Joe nodded, his expression the picture of sincerity. “No doubt. You’re an inspiration, man. Really showing the bench how it’s done.”
You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to step in. Wes didn’t deserve to be Joe’s verbal punching bag, even if he was too oblivious to notice.
Then Joe shifted his focus.
“And this,” he said, gesturing toward you with his cup, “is the girl everyone’s been talking about?”
You stiffened, already bracing yourself.
“She’s great, right?” Wes said proudly, tightening his arm around your waist.
“Absolutely,” Joe said, his eyes locking on yours. “Smart, pretty, patient.” His lips twitched as he added, “Definitely one of a kind.”
The room felt hotter, smaller. You knew what he was doing, and you refused to let him win.
“Wow, Joe,” you said, your tone dripping with mock sweetness. “That’s almost a compliment. Are you feeling okay?”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “What can I say? I’m a generous guy.”
Wes chuckled awkwardly, clearly missing the tension simmering between the two of you. But the people around you weren’t as oblivious. Conversations around the kitchen began to quiet, heads subtly turning in your direction.
Joe leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Though I gotta say, Wes, you’ve got your hands full. She seems like the type to keep you on your toes. Always ready with a snappy comeback.”
You took a step forward, your jaw tightening. “Maybe because some people deserve it.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re talking about me,” Joe said, his smirk widening. “But hey, you’ve got to admit, I keep things interesting.”
“Interesting?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You mean infuriating.”
By now, you were toe-to-toe, the space between you charged with unspoken words and something else you refused to acknowledge.
Joe’s eyes flicked down to your lips for a fraction of a second before he smiled again, softer this time. “Guess that’s one way to put it.”
Your breath caught, and for a moment, you were certain everyone in the room could see the way your cheeks flushed, the way your chest rose and fell faster than it should have.
Joe straightened, patting Wes on the back. “You’ve got a good one here, man. Don’t screw it up.”
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd with that stupid smirk still on his face.
Wes turned to you, oblivious as ever. “Man, Joe’s great, isn’t he?”
You didn’t answer, too busy trying to calm the storm raging inside you. Because as much as you hated to admit it, Joe Burrow had just gotten under your skin again. And this time, you weren’t sure you could shake him off.
The days blur together after the party, each one bleeding into the next with a heavy quiet you can’t shake. Joe hasn’t teased you, hasn’t made any more snide comments in passing. It’s almost like he’s disappeared entirely, and the silence he’s left behind feels suffocating.
But it's not the kind of peace you wanted—it's the kind that echoes, that bounces around inside your skull, replaying the things he said over and over again until you can’t ignore them anymore. You try to focus on Wes, try to let his easygoing, good-natured attitude soothe the irritation that keeps curling under your skin, but the more you think about Joe’s words, the more they fester. Suddenly, everything about Wes feels too soft, too careful. He’s kind, yes, but there's a blandness to it, a safe predictability that only makes you itch for something sharper.
Then, days later, you find yourself in the apartment lobby, bundled up against the late autumn chill, glaring at a maintenance form on the wall. The hot water’s been out for days, and you’re halfway through filling out a complaint when you hear footsteps behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is—the shift in the air is enough.
"Wow, fancy meeting you here," comes Joe’s voice, smooth and mocking, with just enough bite to make your spine stiffen. You don’t turn around, don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you keep writing, the pen pressing hard enough against the paper that it almost tears.
"Cold water bothering you too?" he continues when you don’t respond, his tone amused. You can feel him looming behind you, a little too close, and you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stay calm.
"Just trying to get it fixed," you reply curtly, finally turning around and catching the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. You’re not in the mood for whatever game he’s about to play, but of course, he’s not about to let you off that easy. His gaze slides from the form in your hand back up to your face, one eyebrow quirking up in that infuriating way that always makes you want to wipe the smugness off his face.
"Surprised you’re handling it yourself," Joe drawls, his eyes bright with something almost like delight. "Thought you'd get your little boyfriend to do it for you."
Your fingers tighten around the pen, and you force yourself to take a breath, ignoring the way your pulse quickens. "Not everything revolves around Wes," you shoot back, but your voice wavers just enough to make Joe’s smirk widen. His eyes flick over your face, and you hate the way he seems to read every expression, every crack in the mask you’re struggling to hold up.
"Really?" he says, the word heavy with skepticism. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a show. "Could’ve fooled me. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, huh? I bet you’re the perfect, supportive girlfriend." His voice drips with sarcasm, and something inside you snaps.
"Shut up, Joe," you hiss, your voice low and dangerous. You turn back to the form, determined to ignore him, but he doesn’t move. In fact, he leans in closer, his breath warm on your ear.
"Why?" he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting, like he’s got all the time in the world. "Hit a nerve?"
You don’t answer. You can’t. Because the truth is, he did hit a nerve. And he knows it.
"Come on," he pushes, a note of genuine curiosity in his tone now. "Don’t you ever get tired of it? Playing nice, doing everything right, sticking with someone who’s… I dunno, safe?"
You spin around, eyes blazing, and Joe’s face lights up with triumph. "You don’t know anything about him," you snap, but there’s a waver in your voice that makes Joe’s eyes narrow with interest. "Wes is kind, and he’s decent, and he actually cares about people, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you."
Joe’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it only grows wider, almost wolfish, and you hate that it sends a thrill through you, a charge that leaves your heart racing. "Yeah," he says, his tone almost pitying, "he’s safe. Boring. He’s exactly the kind of guy who’d never get in your way, never challenge you, never push back. And you’re happy with that? Really?"
You glare at him, your blood boiling, but you can’t look away. Because some part of you—the part you’ve been trying to silence for days—knows he’s right, and it makes you want to scream. "What the hell is your problem, Joe?" you demand, your voice shaking with anger. "Why do you even care? What does it matter to you if I’m with him or not?"
For a moment, something flickers in Joe’s eyes, something you can’t quite read, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears, replaced by that infuriating smirk. "I don’t care," he says, too quickly, his voice a little too smooth. "I just think it’s funny, that’s all. Watching you pretend like he’s enough for you."
You step closer without realizing it, your fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," you insist, but it sounds weak, even to your own ears. Joe’s gaze drops to your lips for a split second, and you feel a jolt of something hot and dangerous twist in your stomach.
"Don’t I?" he murmurs, and suddenly, you’re standing toe-to-toe, your breath mingling with his, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. He’s so close, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his smirk softens just enough to be dangerous.
You don’t move. Neither does he.
There’s a beat, a moment suspended in time where it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air. Then, suddenly, Joe’s expression shifts, a slow, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he leans back, breaking the spell. He claps you on the shoulder, his touch light but lingering.
"Good talk," he says, his tone infuriatingly cheerful as he pushes past you towards the elevator, leaving you standing there, breathless and rattled.
"Have fun with Wes," he throws over his shoulder, and the door slides shut behind him before you can find the words to reply. You’re left staring at the closed elevator doors, your chest heaving and your hands still trembling around the pen, the echoes of Joe’s taunting voice ricocheting in your mind.
And for the first time in days, the silence feels even louder.
The days drag by, and every one of them feels heavier, weighed down by Joe's words. They hang over you, echoing whenever you try to ignore them, seeping into your thoughts when you're with Wes. The way he holds your hand, the way he smiles politely at your jokes, the way he never raises his voice or teases you too hard—it’s all safe. It’s what you thought you wanted. But now, thanks to Joe, it’s all starting to feel empty, like a shell with nothing inside.
As if to make matters worse, Joe's been louder, more present, and more irritating than ever. He’s upped his game, bringing a new girl home almost every night, the kind who giggle just a little too loud in the stairwell, whose heels click sharply against the tile floors, waking you and Ella up in the middle of the night. You hear them laughing through the paper-thin walls, their voices carrying long after you wish they’d shut up. Ella throws a pillow at the wall one night, groaning in frustration, but you just lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, the annoyance mixing with something else—something you refuse to name.
And then Wes’s birthday sneaks up on you, like a storm you’d been pretending not to see on the horizon. Everyone's talking about it—the party of the semester, hosted at his parents’ mansion on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. You know it’s a big deal. Wes’s parents are the kind who throw events instead of parties, the kind where everyone’s wearing their best, and you’d feel out of place if you weren’t on Wes’s arm. You spend way too long picking out your dress, ignoring Ella’s teasing smile as you change twice and then settle on something classy, something you think Wes’s parents will approve of.
The mansion is even more extravagant than you expected. Tall, stately, and glowing with warm light spilling from every window. A string quartet plays softly near the entrance, and there’s enough champagne to drown in. It’s a perfect picture of Southern elegance, the kind of party where everyone’s on their best behavior and no one dares spill a drink on the white marble floors.
You’re almost able to relax, standing with Wes as he introduces you to old friends and relatives, his arm around your waist like you’re some kind of prize. But then, from across the room, you catch sight of someone familiar stepping through the grand double doors, and the air goes still.
Joe. And he’s not alone.
On his arm is a girl who looks like she’s stepped straight out of a beauty magazine—perfect curls cascading down her back, a dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, and a pageant smile that could light up the whole room. She’s everything you’re not: polished, pristine, and undeniably beautiful. And Joe’s leaning in close to her, whispering something that makes her laugh, the sound light and carefree, echoing above the music.
Your heart sinks. You should have known he’d be here. You should have known he’d show up with someone like her.
The moment he walks in, it’s like the temperature drops. You feel him scan the room, his gaze sliding over the crowd until it lands on you. There’s a flicker of recognition, a half-smile that tugs at his lips, and for a second, you swear he’s going to make a beeline for you, but then he turns to his date, all easy charm and confidence.
You look away quickly, swallowing down the hot, bitter twinge of jealousy that rises in your chest. Beside you, Wes is oblivious, laughing with some cousin or another, completely unaware of the storm that’s building in your mind.
The party moves on, but you can't shake the weight in your chest. Every time you turn around, Joe is there—always in your peripheral, laughing with his date or effortlessly sliding into conversations with people he’s never met, commanding attention without even trying. And it’s driving you mad. You hate that he’s here, hate the way his presence seems to seep into every corner of the room, hate that you can’t stop looking for him, even when you don’t mean to.
Wes’s parents announce dinner, and you find yourself at a long table, perfectly set with silverware that you don’t even know how to use properly. Wes is on your left, chatting away, and you force yourself to smile and nod at the right moments, though your gaze keeps drifting over his shoulder. Joe is at the far end of the table, but his eyes meet yours—bright and full of something that feels like a challenge. He raises his glass in your direction, and you don’t miss the way his date practically glows under his attention, leaning into his side.
You grit your teeth, focusing on Wes, who’s completely unaware of the way your stomach is twisting. He’s sweet, attentive, a perfect gentleman, and you wish you could ignore the itch under your skin, the restlessness that grows with each passing minute. But it’s there, burning hotter every time you catch sight of Joe, laughing too loud or leaning in too close to whisper in his date's ear.
By the time dessert is served, you’re practically vibrating with frustration, and Wes’s voice is starting to blur into the background. He’s telling some long-winded story about his summer at the family lake house, but all you can think about is how easy it would be to just walk over to the other end of the table and—
“Hey, you alright?” Wes’s voice breaks through your thoughts, and you force yourself to focus on him, pasting on a smile that feels hollow.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, reaching for your glass of champagne and taking a sip that burns all the way down. He seems satisfied, squeezing your hand gently under the table, but his touch feels distant, almost suffocating.
And when you glance back at Joe, he’s watching you, his smile sharper than you remember. There’s a glint in his eyes that makes your skin prickle, like he’s waiting for something, like he knows exactly what kind of game he’s playing. His date is still chattering away, oblivious to the way his gaze keeps flicking back to you, like a tether he can’t quite cut loose.
You look away, your face heating, and try to drown out the feeling with another sip of champagne. But it's no use. The night has only just begun, and you already know—it’s going to be a long one.
You escape upstairs, the noise of the party fading as you climb the grand, spiraling staircase. It’s quieter up here, with the muted sound of conversation and laughter drifting up from below, and you can finally breathe a little easier. You’re not even sure what you’re doing—just that you need a break from the suffocating conversation, the polished smiles, and the feeling of being watched. Wes is deep in conversation with a teammate, and it was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. You tell yourself you're only going to the bathroom, but you don’t even bother finding one. You just wander down the hall, hoping to collect yourself, to calm the thudding in your chest.
But then, of course, you see him.
Joe, leaning lazily against the wall at the end of the hallway, like he’s been waiting for you. There’s no sign of his date—she’s probably downstairs, lost in the crowd—but Joe’s here, and he looks too damn comfortable, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He gives you that infuriating half-smirk the second your eyes meet, like he’s been expecting you. Like he knows you’re going to stop.
“Lost?” he drawls, his voice a low, lazy tease, and you freeze, every muscle in your body going tense.
“No,” you snap, hating the way your heart skips when he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer. “Just getting some air.”
“From Wes?” he asks, eyebrows raising, and you can hear the taunt in his tone, the way he draws out the name like it’s a joke. “Or from this whole perfect little party of his?”
“None of your business,” you shoot back, but he’s closer now, and you hate how your breath catches, how the air between you feels thick and electric. He’s looking at you like he’s stripping away all the layers you’ve put up—the polite smiles, the careful charm—and seeing straight through to the part of you that’s restless and hungry for a fight.
“You know, I can’t tell if you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost intimate. “Or if you’re just playing the role of ‘good girlfriend’ to make everyone happy.”
“Shut up, Joe,” you warn, but your voice is weaker than you want it to be, and he notices. Of course he notices. He takes another step, and suddenly he’s way too close, the heat of him radiating into the space between you, making it harder to breathe.
“Or is it that Wes is just…too boring for you?” he presses, and something snaps. You step forward, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble back a step, anger flaring white-hot in your chest.
“Why do you care?” you demand, your voice rising. “Why do you always have to ruin everything? You can’t stand seeing me happy, can you? You always have to get in the way—”
“Oh, please,” he cuts you off, his voice sharp with irritation. “Don’t act like I’m the one ruining things. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me. You’re the one who’s pretending this perfect little relationship is enough for you.”
You don’t even think. You just react, stepping closer, your chest heaving with the force of your anger, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “You don’t know anything about me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you before you can stop them. “You don’t know what I want or what I need, so stop pretending like you have me all figured out!”
He’s laughing now, a low, mocking sound that sets your teeth on edge, and you want to hit him, to scream, to do something to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face. But then he’s had enough. Suddenly, he moves, quick as a flash, and before you can even blink, he’s grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up as if you weigh nothing, throwing you over his shoulder in one swift, effortless motion.
“Put me down!” you shout, struggling against him, but he just tightens his grip, carrying you down the hall like you’re some kind of rag doll. Your fists beat uselessly against his back, and you’re half-cursing, half-panicking as he ignores you, kicking open the nearest door and stepping inside.
The door slams shut behind him, and you barely register the darkened room—a guest bedroom, dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtains—before he’s setting you down, pressing you up against the wall with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You’re too stunned to move, your back hitting the cold plaster, and suddenly his body is pinning you there, his hands on either side of your face, caging you in.
“Finally shut you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the way his breath brushes your cheek, hot and fast. His eyes are dark, burning with something you’ve never seen before, and the space between you feels like it’s crackling, alive with an energy that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race.
“Why do you have to be such a—” you start, but he cuts you off, leaning in closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest pressing against yours. His mouth is inches from yours, his lips twisting into a wicked smile.
“Go on,” he taunts, his voice low and dangerous. “Say it. Tell me what you really think.”
You’re breathing hard, your anger warring with something hotter, something that’s been building between you for months, and you can’t stop yourself. “You’re an asshole,” you spit, your hands coming up to shove at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He just leans in, his nose brushing against yours, the air between you thick and suffocating.
“And you,” he says softly, his voice almost gentle, “are a liar.”
You don’t know who moves first—whether it’s him closing the distance or you surging up to meet him—but suddenly his mouth is on yours, hard and desperate, and you’re kissing him back like it’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. The kiss is furious, full of all the things you can’t say, all the frustration and the longing and the anger that’s been building up for so long it feels like it’s going to explode. His hands are in your hair, his grip almost painful, and you’re clinging to him, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth as he presses you harder against the wall.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers against your lips, his breath ragged, and you shake your head, too far gone to think, to lie, to do anything but pull him closer, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“Shut up,” you breathe, and he laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin, before he kisses you again, deeper this time, slower, like he’s savoring the taste of your surrender. The room feels too small, the air too thick, and you know you should stop, you know this is wrong, but you can’t, not when his hands are sliding down your sides, not when his body is pressing into yours, not when he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have.
And then, suddenly, it’s too much. You push him away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps, and he lets you go, stepping back with a grin that’s all arrogance and triumph. Your lips feel swollen, your face flushed, and you hate that you can’t stop looking at him, that you want more even though you know you shouldn’t.
“See?” he says softly, his voice maddeningly smug. “I do know you.”
The words barely have time to leave his mouth before you’re on him again, shoving him away from you, your hands hitting his chest with more force than you intend. He stumbles back a step, a flash of surprise crossing his face before his eyes harden, that infuriating grin vanishing. You’re both breathing hard, the air between you heavy with everything unspoken, with all the sharp words that have been building up since the day you met.
“You don’t know anything!” you snap, your voice cracking, and he just laughs, a short, humorless sound that makes your blood boil.
“You keep saying that,” he shoots back, his voice low and dangerous, “but here you are. Every time, it’s the same thing. You want me to stop? Then say it. Tell me to leave.”
You open your mouth to say exactly that, to tell him to go to hell and stay out of your life, but the words won’t come. They catch in your throat, tangled up with the truth you can’t face, and he sees it. He always sees it. His gaze softens, something like understanding flickering in those dark eyes, and it pisses you off more than anything.
“See?” he murmurs, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You can’t. Because you don’t want me to.”
“Shut up,” you whisper, but it’s too late—he’s already crowding into your space, his hand curling around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to his. You hate him for the way he’s looking at you, like he’s unraveling you with a single glance, like he knows exactly how to break you down, and before you can stop yourself, you’re surging up, your hands fisting in his shirt as you kiss him again, harder this time, angrier.
His arms come around you instantly, pulling you closer, and you hate that it feels good, that it feels right, even as you’re pushing against him, your nails digging into his shoulders. It’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the kiss desperate and furious, and you’re drowning in it, in the heat of him, in the way his fingers are tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp.
Then the door swings open, and you both jerk apart, your breaths coming in ragged, uneven pants. You barely have time to process what’s happening before you see Ja’Marr standing there, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. He looks at you, then at Joe, and lets out a long, frustrated sigh.
“Really, Joe?” he says, his voice laced with disappointment. “In the middle of Wes’s birthday party? Do you have a death wish or something?”
“Calm down,” Joe says coolly, like he’s not the least bit bothered, his gaze still fixed on you, as if daring you to run. “We were just talking.”
“Yeah,” Ja’Marr scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Talking, right. Because making out with your teammate’s girl is totally a normal conversation.”
You feel your cheeks burn, and you step back, smoothing down your clothes like you can erase what just happened. “This—this was nothing,” you stammer, trying to ignore the way Joe’s lips curl into a smirk at your flustered tone. “We’re done here.”
Joe just gives you a lazy, almost triumphant smile, like he’s won some unspoken battle, and turns to Ja’Marr with a shrug. “She’s got a mind of her own, you know,” he says, and you want to punch him, to scream, but Ja’Marr just shakes his head, looking equal parts disappointed and resigned.
“Whatever,” Ja’Marr mutters, grabbing Joe’s arm and pulling him out into the hallway. “You need to get your act together. Wes is going to notice if you keep pulling this crap.”
Joe’s eyes flick to you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he lets Ja’Marr drag him away. The door clicks shut behind them, and you’re left alone in the darkened room, your heart racing and your thoughts spinning out of control. You know you should follow them, that you should go back downstairs and pretend like nothing happened, but your knees feel weak, and it takes you a long moment to gather yourself, to steady your breathing.
By the time you make your way back down to the party, your face feels numb, and you’ve forced on the brightest smile you can muster. Joe is already back in the thick of things, his arm slung casually around his date’s waist, laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You want to be angry, to hate him for making it look so easy, but then Wes catches sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he excuses himself from his conversation.
“Hey, there you are!” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pressing a quick kiss to your temple. You try to smile, but it feels fake, like your skin doesn’t fit right anymore. “Where’d you disappear to?”
“Just needed a minute,” you say, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears. You’re about to say something else, anything to fill the awkward silence, when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye.
Joe’s watching you, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and that’s when you realize—his lips are still stained with the faintest trace of your lipstick, a dark, telltale smear at the corner of his mouth.
Wes follows your gaze, and his smile falters, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Joe, what’s on your—”
But Joe cuts in smoothly, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his grin widening as if he finds the whole thing hilarious. “Guess I got a little carried away,” he says, his voice dripping with mock innocence, and you feel the ground sway beneath you as Wes’s arm tightens around your shoulders, his confusion shifting to suspicion.
“What’s he talking about?” Wes asks, his eyes narrowing, and you open your mouth to respond, to deny, to do something—but nothing comes out. Your voice has abandoned you, and all you can do is stand there, frozen, as Joe’s smirk deepens and he lifts his drink in a mocking toast, his gaze never leaving yours.
“Good party,” Joe says casually, his tone almost friendly. “Really enjoyed myself.”
You don’t remember what happens next—just the blur of faces, the noise of the party swelling around you, and the hollow ache settling deep in your chest as Joe turns away, laughing with someone else, like he hasn’t just blown everything to pieces.
Wes's smile is strained when he pulls you aside, away from the music and the crowd. There’s a tightness around his eyes you haven’t seen before, something almost defeated, and for the first time that night, you feel a genuine pang of guilt. This is the part you were dreading—the confrontation, the disappointment in his eyes. But instead of yelling, instead of demanding an explanation, he just looks... tired.
“Hey,” he starts softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t wanna make a scene, okay? But I think... I think maybe you should go.”
You open your mouth to respond, but the words die in your throat. There’s no anger in his voice, just resignation, like he already knows the answer before you can even try to lie. You can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.
“Wes, I—” you begin, but he holds up a hand, a weak, defeated smile pulling at his lips.
“It’s okay,” he interrupts, and there’s something achingly kind in his voice, which somehow makes it hurt more. “I think we both know this... isn’t what you want. Not really.”
You feel relief flood your chest so suddenly that it’s almost nauseating, and that’s how you know he’s right. Because instead of being devastated, instead of scrambling to explain yourself, you just feel lighter. Like a weight you didn’t realize you were carrying has finally been lifted.
You reach out to touch his arm, but he steps back, shaking his head. “Don’t,” he says quietly, and you let your hand drop, nodding numbly. There’s nothing left to say. You don’t try to apologize; you don’t try to make excuses. You just turn and leave, the buzz of the party fading behind you as you slip out the front door, the cold night air hitting you like a slap.
The walk back to the apartment feels like a blur, your mind whirling with everything that just happened, everything you don’t want to think about. You don’t know if it’s the relief of being free from something you never truly wanted, or the shame of how it all went down, but by the time you reach your building, your hands are trembling and your breath is hitching.
You let yourself into the apartment, your eyes already burning with unshed tears, and you find Ella curled up on the couch, half-asleep in front of the TV. The moment she sees your face, though, she sits up, worry creasing her brow.
“Whoa, what happened?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep, but you don’t even know where to begin.
“Everything,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and then it all spills out. You tell her everything—about Joe, about the kiss, about Wes’s sad, tired smile and the way he let you go without a fight. You’re talking so fast you’re stumbling over your words, your emotions a chaotic tangle of regret and relief and frustration, and by the time you’re finished, you feel completely wrung out.
Ella listens without interrupting, her expression shifting from shock to disbelief to sympathy as you pour your heart out. When you finally go quiet, she just sighs and pulls you into a hug, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, and you don’t realize how much you needed to hear that until the tears start falling. She doesn’t tell you that you screwed up, she doesn’t lecture you about Joe, she just holds you while you cry, rubbing soothing circles on your back until the tears run dry.
By the time you pull away, your throat is raw, and you’re exhausted. Ella doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look that says she understands, that she’s on your side no matter what, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.
But then, just as you’re wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself, you hear it—a loud burst of laughter echoing through the thin wall you share with Joe’s apartment. It’s followed by the high-pitched giggle of a girl, and your stomach twists. Of course. Of course.
Ella catches the look on your face and scowls. “He’s such an ass,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “You want me to go bang on the wall and tell them to shut up?”
“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s... it’s fine. Let’s just go to bed.”
You don’t even believe yourself, but you can’t deal with Joe right now, not after everything. So you go to your room, shut the door, and try to block out the noise. You tell yourself you don’t care. You tell yourself it’s over. But sleep doesn’t come easily, and all you can hear is Joe’s voice in your head, his mocking words echoing long after the sounds from next door have finally gone quiet.
Over the next few days, you try to fall back into a routine, but everything feels off-kilter. Wes doesn’t text you, and you don’t reach out, letting the silence stretch between you until it feels like a mutual understanding—something that was always going to happen. Ella hovers, supportive but careful not to push, and you appreciate that. You just need space, time to sort through everything.
Joe, however, is a different story.
You barely see him around the complex, but when you do, it’s impossible to ignore him. He’s still bringing home girls—more than ever, it seems—and they’re always loud, obnoxiously so, like he’s doing it on purpose, like he’s rubbing it in your face. And maybe he is. Maybe this is his way of proving a point, of showing you that he doesn’t care, that he never cared, and the worst part is... you don’t know if you care either. Or maybe you care too much.
One night, after a particularly sleepless stretch of listening to laughter and footsteps pounding through the walls, Ella finds you staring blankly at the ceiling, dark circles smudged beneath your eyes.
“He’s doing this on purpose, you know,” she says bluntly, her tone halfway between irritation and pity. “He’s trying to get to you.”
“Yeah, well,” you mutter, rolling over to face the wall. “It’s working.”
Wes’s birthday party fades into memory, and a few weeks pass. It’s easier to pretend you don’t care when you don’t have to face the fallout. You focus on classes, avoid places where you might run into Joe, and try to ignore the way your heart sinks every time you hear his voice next door.
Then, one Friday night, there’s a knock on your door. You’re half expecting Ella’s latest Tinder date or a package, but instead, you find Joe leaning against the doorframe, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. There’s something almost hesitant about the way he looks at you, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.
“Hey,” he says, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it catches you off guard.
“What do you want?” you ask, and you hate how defensive you sound, how you can’t help but put a wall between you.
Joe’s eyes flicker, and he shoves his hands in his pockets, glancing down the hallway before he looks back at you. “Can we talk?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s asking because he wants to or because he thinks he has to. “Please?”
You hesitate, every part of you screaming to slam the door in his face, to tell him to go to hell. “Talk?” you echo, as though the very idea is laughable. “What’s there to talk about, Joe?”
He shifts uncomfortably, his hands still deep in his pockets. “I just—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. For once, he doesn’t look cocky or composed. He looks tired. “I screwed up, okay? I know that. And I just… I want to make things right.”
You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Now you care about making things right? Weeks later? Where was this when you were busy humiliating me in front of everyone at Wes’s party?”
Joe flinches, and the sight of it sends a small, mean thrill through you. You want him to feel every ounce of the anger and hurt that’s been simmering inside you since that night.
“I was drunk,” he mutters, like it’s an excuse. “You know I didn’t mean half the shit I said.”
“Oh, so you only mean half of it?” Your voice rises despite yourself, and you take a step closer. “Which half, Joe? The part where you said Wes was too good for me? Or the part where you implied I’m some kind of charity case?”
Joe groans, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what I meant! You’re twisting it—”
“I’m twisting it?” Your laugh is sharp, humorless. “No, Joe. I’m finally calling you out on your crap. You think you can just waltz in here, throw out a half-assed apology, and I’m supposed to forget how you treated me? Newsflash: I’m done being your punching bag.”
“Punching bag?” His voice spikes, and you can see his patience starting to fray. “Are you kidding me? You think I don’t care about you? That I’d say that stuff to hurt you on purpose?”
“Then why did you say it?” you snap, stepping closer until you’re almost toe to toe. “Why, Joe? If you care so much, why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m not enough?”
He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his chest rising and falling as he tries to keep his temper in check. But then he snaps, his voice loud enough to make you flinch. “Because you drive me crazy, alright? You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s like I can’t think straight when I’m around you!”
You’re stunned into silence, your heart pounding in your chest. The air between you crackles with something electric, something you can’t name but can feel in every nerve of your body.
Joe’s eyes are blazing, his chest heaving as he takes a step closer. “You think I wanted this? That I wanted to feel like this about you? I didn’t, okay? But I do. And it scares the hell out of me.”
You swallow hard, your throat dry. “Joe…”
He shakes his head, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m sorry, alright? For all of it. I just—I didn’t know how to deal with this, with you.”
You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone. Joe’s hands are on your arms, his grip firm but not rough, and you’re looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.
Joe doesn’t step back. He doesn’t let the anger rise again. He stays close, his hands still resting on your arms, his grip grounding and firm. His gaze softens, something vulnerable breaking through the tension in his voice.
“You think I like being the guy who gets under your skin?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no bite to it now. Only honesty. “You think I enjoy pissing you off just for fun?”
You stare at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift, the rawness in his tone. “Don’t you?”
Joe lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “No. That’s just the only way you ever seem to notice me.” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and your breath hitches. “If I’m not in your face, annoying the hell out of you, it’s like I don’t even exist to you.”
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. He’s too quick, too honest, and you don’t have a defense ready for the truth.
“That’s why I invite them over,” he continues, and there’s no cockiness in the admission. Just exhaustion. “Those girls, the loud music, the stupid games—it’s not because I want them. It’s because I’m trying to get you to see me. To pay attention. Even if it’s just so you can yell at me.”
Your stomach twists, a lump forming in your throat. You want to stay mad, to cling to your anger like a shield, but it’s slipping through your fingers. Joe doesn’t stop; he steps closer, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him.
“I don’t know how else to get through to you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m tired, okay? I’m tired of pretending like I don’t care when I do. So much more than I should.”
Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Joe watches you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, his hesitation palpable. And then, before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours.
It’s not rough or demanding like you might have expected. It’s soft, tentative, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. His hands slide from your arms to your waist, anchoring you gently, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds back.
For a moment, you freeze, torn between the urge to push him away and the overwhelming need to lean into him. But then your walls crack, and you kiss him back, your hands clutching at the front of his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.
Joe pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing is unsteady, his expression a mix of relief and something deeper. Without a word, he steps forward, his hands tightening around your waist as he gently pushes you through the door.
You don’t resist. You can’t.
He closes the door behind him with a quiet click, then sweeps you off your feet in one swift, effortless motion. You let out a small gasp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carries you down the hall toward your bedroom.
“Joe…” you begin, but he silences you with a look—a look so tender, so unlike the Joe you thought you knew, that your words die on your lips.
By the time he lays you down on the bed, the anger and frustration from moments ago have evaporated, replaced by something else entirely. Something that hums between you like a live wire.
He hovers over you, his weight supported by his arms on either side of your head. His eyes search yours, silently asking for permission, for understanding. And when you nod, so small and uncertain, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time deeper, more sure of himself.
Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging gently as he trails his lips down your jaw, your neck, every touch making your pulse race. He’s careful, almost reverent, as if afraid to break the fragile moment you’re sharing.
And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—Joe Burrow isn’t the selfish, cocky guy you thought he was. Maybe, behind all the bravado, he’s just a boy who wanted you to see him. And now, you finally do.
Joe’s lips trail along the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, electric path in their wake. He takes his time, his breath hot against your skin, and every deliberate touch makes your pulse thunder louder in your ears.
His hands glide over your waist, fingers pressing lightly, almost teasing as they trace the hem of your shirt. You feel his smile against your neck when you squirm slightly beneath him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “No more yelling? No smart remarks?”
You swallow hard, trying to find some semblance of control, but the way his hands move, the way his lips hover so close yet don’t quite touch, leaves you breathless. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say to you right now,” you shoot back, though your voice wavers.
Joe chuckles, lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” he says, his thumb brushing over the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. “You’ve always got something to say to me. Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off.”
You glare at him, but it’s half-hearted, your resolve crumbling as he dips his head again, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I like it when you get all fired up,” he whispers, his tone teasing. “But I think I like this quiet side of you even more.”
You huff, trying to ignore the way your body betrays you, leaning into him despite yourself. “You’re so full of yourself.”
Joe smirks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers grazing your skin, and you shiver at the contact. “Maybe,” he admits, his tone smug, “but you’re still here, aren’t you?”
You want to retort, to wipe that cocky grin off his face, but before you can, he shifts his weight, his lips capturing yours again. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, and you feel the teasing edge in his movements as he kisses you until you forget whatever comeback you had planned.
His fingers inch higher, tracing light patterns on your stomach, deliberately avoiding the places where you want him most. It’s infuriating, how easily he has you unraveling, and when he pulls back just enough to smirk down at you, you let out an exasperated groan.
“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, tugging at his shirt in frustration.
Joe leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips curling into a playful grin. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”
He shifts again, his hands sliding up to frame your face as he kisses you once more. His lips are soft but insistent, drawing you in until all you can focus on is him—his weight pressing you into the mattress, the warmth of his skin, the way his touch sets every nerve in your body alight.
“Say the word,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice soft but laced with a challenge. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”
You stare up at him, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. But the word never comes. Instead, you pull him down again, your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and longing that’s been building between you for weeks.
Joe groans softly, his hands sliding down your sides, his teasing touch giving way to something more intentional. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs against your lips, his tone smug but laced with something warmer, something that makes your stomach flip.
Joe's lips find yours again, the kiss deepening as his teasing facade begins to slip. His hands roam your body with more purpose now, fingertips pressing into your skin like he’s memorizing every curve. He nips lightly at your bottom lip, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Still hate me?” he whispers, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. He moves back slowly, before pulling off your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours.
You bite back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you pull him closer, your nails grazing the back of his neck, and the quiet groan he lets out is enough to make your pulse race.
The leggings are long forgotten now, leaving you exposed in your underwear. Joe chuckles softly, his breath fanning against your lips as he trails kisses along your jaw, then lower, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck. His tongue follows, soothing the faint sting, and the combination has your hands fisting in his shirt.
“You’re not as tough as you act, you know,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. His hands slide beneath your shirt, his palms warm against your bare skin as he pushes the fabric up slowly. “I think you like this way more than you’re letting on.”
“You talk too much,” you manage to gasp, but your retort loses its bite when his thumb grazes just beneath your ribs, sending a rush of heat through your body.
Joe pulls back just enough to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. He takes a moment to look at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with something you can’t quite name, and for a second, the teasing smirk is gone, replaced by something softer.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and the sincerity in his voice catches you off guard.
Your breath hitches, and you feel your cheeks flush under his gaze. Before you can overthink it, his lips are on you again, softer this time but no less insistent. His hands trace slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra, and you arch into his touch without meaning to.
Joe grins against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s more like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing lower as he presses kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and then to the edge of the fabric.
He pauses, glancing up at you as his fingers toy with the clasp, his expression both playful and questioning. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says again, his tone softer now, without the usual cockiness.
But stopping is the furthest thing from your mind. Instead, you pull him down to you, your lips crashing into his with a fervor that answers his unspoken question.
Joe groans against your mouth, his hands moving to unclasp your bra with surprising ease, and you feel the shift in his demeanor as his teasing gives way to something more raw, more urgent. His lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat in their wake, and every deliberate touch has your body humming with anticipation.
“Still hate me?” he asks again, his voice rough and teasing, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes as he looks up at you.
You reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. “Shut up, Joe,” you whisper, your voice breathless but firm, and for once, he listens.
Joe's smirk returns, but it’s softer now, laced with something warmer than his usual arrogance. He lets out a quiet laugh, the sound low and full of disbelief, as if he can’t quite believe where the night has led. But he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lets his lips and hands do the talking, his touch reverent but still filled with that undeniable fire that seems to burn between you.
He slowly pulls away, looking up at you with a small smirk before he gets up. Before you could start questioning him, he takes off his shirt and sweats swiftly, your eyes widening at his body.
Joe’s smirk deepens as he catches the way your eyes widen, lingering on his toned frame. His confidence seems to grow with every second you stay silent, your gaze betraying the sharp tongue you usually use to deflect him. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if giving you time to drink him in.
“You’re staring,” he teases, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes burn with something more primal. “I knew you liked looking at me, but this is a new level.”
You roll your eyes, but the heat rushing to your cheeks gives you away. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter, trying to sound dismissive, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the effect he has on you.
Joe chuckles, leaning down to brace his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. “Too late for that,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “You’ve already done it for me.”
Before you can fire back, he trails his hand down your side, fingers skimming over your waist and hip with maddening slowness. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another to the swell of your chest, each one softer than the last, as if he’s savoring the way you shiver beneath his touch.
You can feel his hardened bulge against your stomach, and you're just about done with his teasing. You need him, now. “Joe,” you whined as he pulls back with a smirk.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he says, his voice low and raw. “But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Before you can reply, his lips are on yours again, his kiss stealing whatever snarky comeback you might have had. His hands move with purpose, sliding over every inch of bare skin, and the slow, deliberate way he touches you has your body aching for more.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against your lips, the words a quiet challenge. But you don’t. You can’t.
Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss him with all the frustration and longing you’ve been holding back for weeks. Joe groans, the sound vibrating against your lips as his teasing slips away entirely, replaced by something deeper, more desperate.
“God, you’re impossible,” he mutters, his voice laced with both exasperation and awe. But his actions betray the truth—he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He finally pulls away, breathless as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with adoration and lust. “I'm gonna fuck you, alright?” he mutters before leaning closer. “And for all those times you pissed me off, and annoyed me, I'll forget about all of that if I can just... hear you.”
You're caught off by the request and you almost think he's joking, but you're mistaken. He's dead serious. All you could was nod slowly in response and Joe leans away, pleased.
Joe’s control starts to slip, and it’s evident in the way his kisses grow hungrier, more urgent. His hands tremble slightly as they trail over your body, mapping out every curve like he’s afraid this moment will disappear. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide and his breathing uneven.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice raw, the cocky edge completely gone. “You’ve been driving me insane for months.”
Then finally, he slowly peels off his briefs, and his large, hardened cock falls out.
Joe lets out a small groan as his head falls back, relief in his expression. His pink tip is already leaking with pre-cum. You practically faint at the sight, you couldn't help but let out a whimper. His hands find his cock before he slowly begins to pump it, his eyes finding yours again.
He spreads your legs open before leaning in, his lips finding yours as his hands lead his cock to your cunt. His forehead falls against yours as he slowly begins to insert himself, a heavenly groan leaving his lips at the feeling of your warm, tight walls.
You felt like you were being split in half, in the best way possible. You can't even describe how good his cock felt, he wasn't even a quarter inside of you, but you still felt like you were filled to the brim.
“O-oh, fuck, Joey,” you moaned as your swollen lips form an O, your head falling back onto the plush pillows. Now you understood why the girls in his apartment were so loud—they definitely weren't exaggerating.
His hands grip your hips firmly, pulling you closer as if he wasn't inside of you already. His lips crash against yours again, the kiss filled with desperation, like he’s trying to pour every suppressed emotion into it. It’s intoxicating, the way his need for you feels almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clutching at his shoulders, wanting to be as close as possible.
He bottoms you out slowly, and he tries to give you a second to adjust—he really, really tried. He just couldn't. He slowly started thrusting in and out of you, and before you could even process the change in speed, he was rocking his hips against yours like the world depended on it.
The bed was creaking loudly underneath the two of you, the only sounds that could be heard was your loud moans, his grunts of pleasure, and the sound of skin against skin.
His cock was dizzying, to say the least. It hit all the spots you swore nobody had ever reached, making you question all your previous partners. You couldn't even form a singular thought about anything else except for Joe's huge cock and the way he was making you feel.
“Joe!” You manage to gasp as he begins to pound into you impossibly harder, but he cuts you off with another kiss, groaning softly against your lips.
“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice husky and edged with desperation. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes you gasp as his hands spread your legs wider, pinning you to the mattress.
Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, his kisses growing more frantic, more needy. His hands are everywhere, exploring, worshipping, as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. The way he touches you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, leaves you utterly undone.
His words make your head spin, and you can’t find a response. You're too caught up in the way he was pounding into you, like a fucking animal.
But Joe doesn’t seem to care; he’s too caught up in you, his hips moving faster and faster until you're practically crying out loud. His hands roam your body as if he’s memorizing every curve, every inch of skin. There’s no pretense now, no games—just raw, unfiltered desire.
You begin to feel the knot in your stomach begin to form, tight and persistent. You begin to grip his shoulders even tighter, your head falling back into the pillow as you moaned.
“O-oh, fuck! I'm gonna cum, please.” You began rambling as your legs wrapped around his waist, his hips not faltering one bit—if anything, he began going faster.
“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” He grunted out, his own impending orgasm. “Cum for me, baby.”
That was all you needed. The knot in your stomach snapped violently, your whole body spasming as you cried out in utter pleasure. The orgasm washed over you perfectly as Joe's hips began to falter, and a few moments later, his cum spilled into you.
You both lie there, tangled in the sheets, your breathing ragged and your hearts racing as the room settles into a heavy, satisfied silence. Joe’s arm is draped lazily across your stomach, his fingers tracing light, absentminded patterns on your skin. The intimacy feels different now—softer, quieter, as if the storm that had built between you for so long had finally passed.
He exhales deeply, his chest still rising and falling against your side. “Well,” he says, his voice low and hoarse, “that was... long overdue.”
You glance over at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile despite yourself. “You think?” you reply dryly, the lingering warmth of the moment making it hard to muster the sharp edge your tone usually carries with him.
Joe turns his head to look at you, his hair mussed and sticking out in every direction, his cheeks still flushed. There’s that cocky grin of his, but it’s softer now, tinged with something you don’t think you’ve seen before—contentment, maybe. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling lightly. “So overdue I’m almost mad at us for waiting this long.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. His grin widens as he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over you. His gaze flicks across your face, and he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. “But hey,” he says, his voice taking on a playful tone, “now that I’ve finally got you right where I want you, I think it’s time to make this official.”
Your brow furrows slightly as you tilt your head at him. “Official?”
Joe nods solemnly, though the sparkle in his eyes gives him away. “Yup. A real date. No fighting, no yelling, no storming off. Just you, me, and a public setting where we try very hard not to tear each other’s clothes off.”
You snort, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, is that so?”
“That’s so,” he replies with a grin, catching your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, his gaze softening. “Come on, let me take you out. I’ll even behave. Swear.”
You arch a skeptical brow, though the warmth in your chest betrays you. “Behave? You? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Joe leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Guess you’ll just have to say yes and find out,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but undeniably sincere.
You roll your eyes again, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Fine,” you say, trying to sound reluctant but failing miserably. “One date. But if you embarrass me, it’s the last one.”
Joe’s grin is blinding as he flops back down beside you, pulling you against his chest. “Deal,” he says, his voice full of triumph. “You won’t regret it. Best date of your life, guaranteed.”
You shake your head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love it,” he counters, his tone smug as his hand tightens around yours.
Maybe, just maybe, he’s right.
↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !
↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡
#jb5#nfl fic#nfl football#nfl lb#nfl imagine#joe burrow bengals#cincinnati bengals#joeyb#joe burrow fan fic#joe burrow smut#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow#joe burrow x you#joe burrow x y/n#joe burrow x oc
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Make It Ours
aka the one where Tommy asks Buck to move in
It started a little ridiculously. Buck didn't usually decorate his place for Halloween, but in his excitement over Bobby being back he'd gotten way too much for the firehouse and had a lot left over. So he took some paper bats home and hung them from his ceiling.
That should have been the end of it.
“We've got enough candy for a small army, I'm sure,” Buck said, resting his head on Tommy's chest, a hand softly rubbing over his pec.
“We don't really have any kids that come out to Harbor. A few of the kids whose parents are on shift will stop by, but that's about it.”
“Were you a Halloween fan growing up?” Buck asked, chills running up his spine as Tommy's fingers massaged his scalp.
“Oh yeah. We didn't really have the money to afford costumes, but I'd make stuff from old sheets or clothes that didn't fit me anymore. There was one year where-” Tommy stopped suddenly, and Buck looked up at him to see him staring out over the loft. “Are your bats animatronic?” he asked.
Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
Tommy nodded his head in their direction. “They're moving.”
“Oh,” Buck glanced back briefly. “Probably the air coming on. Makes them swing sometimes.”
Tommy halfway settled back into the bed, but it didn't last very long, because soon enough one of those “decorations” started flying directly into the bedroom. Then there was another, and another.
“Evan, you have bats!” Tommy exclaimed.
“I- oh my God, I have bats!”
Ironically, Tommy did not love all things that flew. Buck had known this since they went to the zoo two months into their relationship and ventured into the butterfly exhibit. That's when he saw Tommy dripping with sweat, barely taking a breath and clutching Buck's hand until he asked what was wrong.
And now, watching a 6'2 man made mostly out of muscle race to put on a shirt and shorts, foregoing underwear completely, so he could duck out of the loft with a yelp was truly fascinating.
The fact that he only stopped briefly to give Buck a kiss and tell him to grab his things and meet him at his place was the icing on the cake.
That man was inside me twenty minutes ago, Buck thought, a baby bat swooping above him. He felt nothing but pride.
Within an hour, he was bringing a suitcase and work duffel into Tommy's place. Tommy, on his part, had emptied him two extra drawers to go along with the one he already had there. He'd made space for him in the bathroom as well, and cleared a section of the kitchen counter because, “I figured you'd bring some of your cooking stuff with you.”
He wasn't wrong.
It took a few weeks for the bat issue to be resolved, due to the fact that Buck's landlord was out of town and no one else seemed to know what to do.
Once the place had been cleared of the bats, it took extra time for Buck to be able to air out his place and clean the droppings that had been so graciously left behind.
It didn't help that he had a pretty busy schedule, taking extra shifts before he knew he'd have a bat problem.
Eventually, Buck ran out of reasons to keep himself at Tommy's place.
One morning, as he got ready for his 24 and Tommy got ready for his 48, he decided it was time. “I think my place is now free and clear of everything the bats left behind,” he said, pouring coffee into Tommy's travel mug, then swapping it out for his own. “I'll be able to pick up all my stuff after my shift and get out of your hair.”
“Hm," Tommy hummed. "You should just move in here." It was so nonchalant it sounded the same as when he ordered his usual from the taco bar down the street.
Buck froze mid pour. “I- I should what?”
“Move in with me,” he repeated with a shrug, “if you want.” He walked over to Buck and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Think about it, Babe. I gotta go. Love you.”
“Yeah, I- I... I love you too.”
Tommy grabbed his mug off the counter and headed out the door, leaving Buck feeling like a deer in headlights.
Part of him wanted to chase Tommy out the door and ask, “How dare you ask so casually?!” The other part was eternally grateful Tommy exited briskly and gave him time to think it over.
Because, wasn't it too soon? He'd only ever done this moving in together thing one other time, and that wasn't exactly for a good reason.
They'd only said I love you for the last couple months. The words still sounded new, still made his heart swell every time they came out of Tommy's mouth. Still blushed when he said it back.
And did Tommy actually mean it? He did have a dry sense of humor that was sometimes easy to miss. Maybe this was one of those times. It was just a joke and he was meant to brush it off with a laugh.
He wasn't sure how long he actually stood there with a half filled mug of coffee in front of him, but eventually his phone dinged and pulled him out of his thoughts.
Stop panicking. Yes, I meant it. Seriously, just think about it.
Buck rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile that rose on his face.
Hate you. Be safe.
He only had to wait a few seconds for a reply.
Love you too. You be safer.
*****
“I'm kind of freaking out,” Buck said as Maddie grabbed her lunch from the fridge.
“Why are you freaking out?”
“Tommy asked me to move in with him.”
She paused briefly, eyebrows going up as she stood at the counter. “Really?”
“Yeah, yeah. Wh- Why really? You think it's too soon, don't you? It's too soon. That's what I thought when he asked, well suggested is more like it. He suggested I move in, and then told me to think about it, and then he left for work and then I left for work. And he told me not to panic and that he actually meant it, but-”
“Buck, I didn't mean anything by my really,” she interrupted, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Honestly, I figured that was gonna happen once you stayed with him during the whole bat thing.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised. “I- I mean, you did?”
“You already spend more time at his place than your own. The bats were taken care of, what, almost a week ago?”
“Yeah.”
“And how many nights have you stayed at your place since then?”
“Well... Well, I had to work a couple of those days,” he tried to reason, “and then it made more sense to go to his place because we wanted to see each other but we were both tired from work.”
“You don't have to explain yourself, Buck,” she assured him. “I'm only saying it's not actually all that surprising.”
When Buck didn't look any more relieved than when he'd come into the call center, Maddie continued, “Have you made a pro/con list?”
He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and laid it on the countertop for Maddie to take. “Of course I did.”
She picked it up and read it over. “Great butt is number three? Did not need to know that.”
“It- It's a very detailed list,” he replied seriously.
“I can see that,” she agreed. “Although I can't help but notice there are no actual cons on this list.” She slid the paper back to him.
“That's why I'm freaking out.”
“Is this a bi crisis?” Josh asked, walking into the break room. “Because, if so, I feel like I should be involved. Also, I've been listening and I have something to say. May I?”
Buck nodded his head, resting his hands on the countertop. “Please. I- I could use all the help I can get.”
“Great. First of all, why are you trying to talk yourself out of it?”
“Because... Because, seven months ago I didn't even know I was bi, and then there was Tommy. And it's been great. He's funny, and kind, and he listens, and he's so hot-"
"Okay," Maddie waved for him to move on.
"Even when we argued, you know, we stuck around and worked it out. It's the healthiest relationship I've ever been in. It's the happiest relationship I've ever been in.”
“God, this sounds awful,” Josh deadpanned.
“Yeah, listen, Buck, if you don't want him I'll take him,” Maddie added with a smile. “I don't think Howie would mind.”
Buck grinned. “I'm just saying, it all seems so fast. I keep trying to think of reasons to say no, or wait a few more months, but I- I can't.”
“Okay, maybe you can't think of a reason to say no, because there's no good reason to say no,” Josh replied. “How's it been staying with him while the bats took over your place?”
“It's... It's been great. I thought there would be a big adjustment, but there really wasn't. He hasn't seemed bothered by my stuff being there, and it's been nice having someone to, ya know, come home to,” he added, a blush rising on his cheeks.
“Have you had any of the big conversations yet?” Maddie asked. “You know, kids, marriage, stuff like that?”
“Mhm. We agree on everything.”
Josh glanced at Maddie before replying. “I really don't see the problem here, Buck.”
“You don't think it's too soon?”
“I think,” Josh sighed. “I think life is really short, which you probably know better than anybody. And if Tommy makes you as happy as it sounds like he does, then you're the only one stopping you from that happiness.”
Buck rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a deep breath. “Sometimes, I still feel like a fraud,” he admitted. “Like it all came too easy. You know, I- I've heard how rough it was for Tommy to come out and all the crap he went through for years. I figure out I like guys and get a boyfriend in the same day, six months later he's asking me to move in and I can picture my entire life with him.”
“I think that's your brain messing with you,” Josh said. “Because to me, it sounds like you've had thirty-three years of searching for something that feels real, and good, and settled. And you've found it with Tommy.”
Maddie nodded. “I agree. He's good to you, Evan. Everyone can see you two love each other. I can honestly say I've never seen you happier or more sure of yourself. You don't need to doubt that. You need to let yourself have a win.”
A smile started to grow on Buck's face. He was pretty sure he'd already made up his mind, but there was still one thing that worried him. “What if it doesn't work out?”
“Then you do the opposite of what you're about to do,” Josh answered simply, “and you move back out.”
*****
Tommy already knew Buck was at his place before he got inside. The giant Jeep in his driveway was always a dead giveaway.
Half of him expected Buck's things to be neatly packed up by the door, ready to move back into his loft until his lease was officially up.
The other half expected him to be sitting on the couch with a downcast look on his face that said I'm not ready to move in with you without having to actually say it.
What he didn't expect was the door to swing back on him due to it slamming into boxes.
Once he managed to hold the door open and scoot inside, he looked around at well over twenty boxes that were littered around the entryway of his place, leading into the living room.
“Evan?” he called out, a smile already on his face.
“Here!” he exclaimed, exiting Tommy's bedroom and hurrying down the hall. “Here, I'm here! So-” Buck paused briefly to give Tommy a peck on the lips, then continued through the maze of boxes as he headed for the kitchen, Tommy following behind. “This isn't everything, obviously, but I don't actually think I'll be bringing all that much from my place. The bats pooped on a lot. Like, a whole lot. Plus, I like your furniture. The kitchen will have to have some new appliances, but I already ordered what the bats, you know, pooped on. You need to let me know what appliances have a family history for you- if that's a thing- before I throw them out. Some of this stuff is, well, it's terrible. Why don't you sharpen your knives, Tommy? Mind blowing. I know the boxes are kinda a mess, but I didn't want to unpack without you because that feels like me just taking over, ya know, and I don't wanna-”
Buck was stopped by Tommy grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms around Buck's waist, and Buck's arms rested over Tommy's shoulders.
“I'm guessing this is a yes to moving in?” Tommy asked, nose scrunching up in a smile.
Buck let out a deep breath, grinning back. “Yes. It- It's a yes.”
“You didn't freak out too much?”
“I didn't freak out at all,” Buck protested weakly.
“Evan.”
“Okay, I freaked out a little,” he replied, ducking his head, “but not for the reasons you think.”
Tommy tilted Buck's chin so their eyes met. “What reasons?”
“I... The fact there wasn't a reason to say no. I- I freaked because it felt like it should feel too soon, but it didn't. It doesn't. It feels right.”
That's when Tommy leaned in for a kiss far less chaste than the one Buck had given him when he opened the door.
“Do we have to start unpacking tonight?” Tommy asked when they parted, resting their foreheads against one another.
Buck shook his head. He brought his hands to the nape of Tommy's neck and drew him in again, his tongue parting Tommy's lips. Clumsily, they began making their way toward their bedroom without letting one another go.
“Maybe we could work on christening the place then?” Tommy suggested, his nose brushing up against Buck's cheek. “For good luck or whatever.”
“Mmm,” Buck moaned, grabbing at the hem of Tommy's shirt and pulling it over his head quickly, tossing it on top of a box. “You have the best ideas, roomie.”
Tommy snorted at that, his head tossing back in laughter. “God, I love you.”
Somehow, they managed to make it to the bedroom, and Buck gently pushed Tommy down before crawling over him, leaning down to whisper against his lips, “I love you too.”
#bucktommy#911#tommy kinard#evan buckley#ive got my clown nose on and I'm ready for buck to move into tommy's place#let me live#also when you aren't sure how to end a fic#an i love you always works
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Logan’s reaction when you wear one of his shirts!
ahhhh anon the imagery that popped into my head with this one... thank you for requesting it <3 maybe a slight warning but Logan calls reader kid, (she's an adult) because he's obviously older than everyone. also smutty implications lol
/
"Kid. Is that my shirt?" Logan is not sure if he's just half-drunk already (it's nearly impossible for him to get drunk as it is on just a few beers) and you're wearing a big, oversized, Calgary Flames jersey.
He's fairly sure that's not yours- he doesn't think you know any Canadian hockey teams, not like that, and the jersey is definitely dated. Logan thinks he got that when the team was early in it's existence.
"Uhhh..." You turn from your spot in front of the kitchen fridge. The X-Mansion is out of milk and creamer, unfortunately. "Maybe? Sorry."
It's not your shirt that bothers Logan, not exactly. From this spot at the kitchen counter- he's leaning over, but he almost has the full view of your legs, because the shirt only meets the beginning parts of your thighs, and he wonders why on earth you have to be so annoyingly delectable. When Logan is trying his best to be professional, a proper X-Men member, you have to go and be half-naked, no pants, just luscious, sweet legs all taut and smooth as you reach upwards to scan through the upper shelf of the fridge.
You're too much for him, he thinks. If Logan was a slightly better person, he might not be having these thoughts at all, let alone considering acting on them- but he thinks about sneaking up behind you and grabbing, squeezing your ass, the back of your thighs.
"I think our laundry got mixed up like a week ago." You try your best to excuse it. Honestly, though? You were happy to steal Logan's jersey.
It's nice and comfy, and the material has worn away into a soft, loose shirt. Best of all, it smells just like him, after years of wearing it- a slight laundry detergent smell is there, but you mostly catch the smell of pine wood, mixed with cigar smoke and maybe something musky.
You didn't expect him to be down here- you didn't want Logan to know your terrible secret.
"And? You just decided you'd keep it, huh?" Logan grumbles, but he's mostly joking. His eyes are soft.
"I didn't-" You turn to him again, and you cross your arms, and it's with a little start that Logan realizes you're not wearing a bra. You're completely naked under there, other than your panties, and he gets a rush of exhilaration thinking about taking them off slowly, with his rough, callused fingers juxtaposed against your supple, soft hips. Gently squeezing your breasts as if he owns them.
There's something hot about it, Logan thinks. You wearing his shirt. As if he loaned it to you. As if he kind of owns you, as if he's your boyfriend. He can't help but feel a deep sense of pleasure. It's not as if all his hook ups and one night stands were clamoring to be his, and it's with fondness that he looks at you again.
"I thought I could give it back to you. After I wore it for a bit." You admit, and Logan has a slight smile.
"Keep it." Logan has a twinkle in his eye, his eyes glancing up and down your figure as he smirks. "It suits you, no pants and all."
He's not really joking about that- it looks way better on you, and to Logan's perverted mind, it is fascinating how this jersey he fills out so well, had a completely different style as it falls on you. It sort of drowns you- leaves your figure to the imagination- but there's just enough that he can see how it skims over your curves, making it easier for him to imagine running his hands over you. Logan thinks about lifting it up from the bottom hem, exposing you.
You turn red, almost forgetting that your legs are bare, and you don't know how to respond to that.
"Really?" You shake your head, ignoring Logan's compliment, knowing that he's just teasing. "Thanks, Logan. It honestly helps me sleep better."
You didn't mean to say that last part- you're not trying to expose the year long crush you've had on the guy- and you stutter over your words, trying not to reveal the comfort you feel around him.
You shut the fridge, and try to leave, but Logan is a little faster, and he's got you right where he wants. Against the fridge. Looking up at him, sweet, meek, just as cute as he remembers.
He leans over you. "Well, I could help you sleep better. If you want."
"Really?" You look up at him, tilting your head a little. "I thought you would think I was just some creep and tell me to fuck off."
"Oh, kid. You think you're the only one who can't stop thinking about us?" Logan swallows. "I think I've liked you since you had to help me figure out the teaching schedule, remember?"
"Who could forget? You were really struggling- your class started an hour late." You joke, and Logan grins. He's not usually such a smiley guy, and it's not something you take light-heartedly. You know he must trust you.
"Offer's still on the table." Logan murmurs, as he traces the collar of his jersey, against your neck and collarbones, and you shiver as he leans in, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It's warm, soft, inviting- but you think Logan must be holding himself back.
"Okay." You whisper up at him, and Logan, being as devious as he is, immediately grasps your waist, your ass, your thighs, squeezing, wanting to feel every bit of flesh, and he feels a deep rumble in his chest- something possessive as he leans in and kisses you, something firm and rough as he feels his shirt around you- and Logan's mouth slots against your own quite easily, open-mouthed, rough kisses that have you shuddering, as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pinning you against the fridge.
You know Logan didn't mean sleeping. He meant putting you to sleep, by sleeping with you, and this silly double meaning, the idea of getting to do all that and then cuddle and sleep by his side, it makes you smile against his mouth.
Logan doesn't stop kissing you as he lifts you up and away, you still wrapped around him, towards his room, feeling an immense amount of slick, lustful pride that he's bringing back his shirt and his girl there.
#logan howlett x reader#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett x you#james logan howlett x reader#wolverine#drabbles#request#x-men x reader#x men#x-men#logan howlett#asks#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett smut#fluff#smut
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Friends with benefits
Two long time friends Trent and Brett. A classic story. Met in kindergarten and have been friends since. Grew up together. Spent their holidays together. Graduated together. But then stopped seeing each other as often. Why? Because adult life ain't easy. Brett had to find a job while Trent got into college, graduated and on top of that became a fitness influencer. Brett started his Twitch account and became a gamer, which he had time for, cause how he was constantly doing a different job, depending on what he could find. But both of them always took some time off for a beer with their buddy.
This is Trent
Although he doesn't appear like that, he is a 24 year old male with young looks
On the other hand Brett is also young, but his looks are a bit more mature. Maybe it's because of all the hair
This is Brett
So hairy.
Normal guys, right? Well something was about to change very soon
Friday, August 2nd, 5 PM
Brett:"Hey, dude. Wanna grab a beer later tonight?"
Trent:"Yeah, sure. I am down. Is 8:30 ok? I gotta finish a video"
Brett:"Oh yeah, totally fine. See you then"
Friday, August 2nd, sports bar, 8:33 PM
At the bar Brett waits patiently, only his leg is slightly shaking. Trent comes in through the door. It's kinda funny, cause Trent used to be really insecure and not confident. Now he looks basically like a god. But still, he has this cute shy looking guy whose face doesnt match his body and the fact that he's 24. Brett was kinds jealous, most of the people that didn't know him always thought he was older because of his looks. Trent had the opposite problem. Always had to show ID whenever he went. Yet Brett was probably more jealous about his life in general. He finished school, took great care of his body, which now could help him hook up with anyone he would set his mind to.
Brett:"Hey, maaaan. How are you doing?"
Trent:"Heyyy. Yeah good. You know, single influencer life, haha"
Brett:"The ladies must be driving you crazy"
Trent:"If only it were just ladies. Haha. You should see the messages some of these gay dudes keep sending me. It's insane"
Brett:"You tell me. They always send random shits to my chats while playing. But it's mostly dumb kids."
Trent:"I think we should find you a date for tonight"
Brett:"Nahhh, fuck it. I'm not in the mood. I just wanna chat with my bro."
After a few beers
Brett:"Shut up, you did not!"
Trent:"I swear. She came on to me without a word."
Brett:"So what did you do?"
Trent:"You think I put up a fight? Haha"
Brett:"Maaaan. I want this stuff to happen to me to. That's so hot"
Trent:"Come with me to the gym then, I bet more chicks woukd be into you if you would gain some muscles"
Brett:"You calling me fat?"
Trent:"No, just saying that all that body hair would be good to match with a good body. You're just a walking gorilla right now"
Brett:"Oh shut up twink! Haha"
They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes and went home.
Brett felt amazing. He really needed to get a beer with his best friend. He came back home, sat behind his computer and searched Dark web. He already knew what he was looking for. He wanted to mess with Trent. Just a another one of his pranks. All he needed was Trent's personal item. He found the body swapping website. He read the rules and conditions and filled out his and Trents name. The only next step he had to follow was to go to sleep. And so he did. Only taking off his shirt in the process and collapsing on the bed. Not even brushing his teeth
Brett woke up feeling better than ever. He was used to have a hangover by now, but today he felt great. He opened his eyes and immediately noticed the different sheets. He looked around. This is Trent's place.
Brett:"Trent?" he said, but he heard Trent's voice.
He turned around to get up
His body. He has a different body
Brett:"Holy shit. It worked" he said amused. He looked down at his now soft chest. He got up
Brett:"Oh wow. getting up is so different when you have these hard muscles"
He went to the nearest mirror. And there he was. Trent in his glory. Brett was so happy right now. His prank worked. He is now inside of his best friends body. And the pranks probably won't stop there. Now he can mess with him all he wants. But not now.
He looked from top to bottom how tall and slim his body was. "Almost no hair anywhere. Lucky guy"
He took Trent's phone and snapped a photo to send it to Trent in his body. He knew it would take a while for Trent to wake up so he proceeded in his exploration.
He felt his curly hair. "How come you don't even have widow's peak? So unfair" He traced his jawline, now with tiny baby hair that Brett wouldn't even call a beard. But his sight was now caught by those nice Calvin Klein's. He looked around as if there was someone in the room with him who would judge him. He pulled on the waistband
Brett:"Just as I thought. Also shaved" he grabbed his new dick, that was getting harder and harder by the second, when suddenly his phone received a notification. he let go of his dick
It was Trent. Brett:"Haha, this is gonna be good"
There was a photo of Brett's body, observing his hairy armpits in shock
Trent in Brett's body:"Hey. Got any idea why I am a gorilla now? And why that gorilla looks exactly like you?"
Brett:"Surpriseee. And fuck you"
Trent:"So this is your doing?"
Brett:"Yeah, I kinda wanted to prank you somehow for all the pranks and the gorilla jokes. Joke's on you ape man"
Trent:"Fuck you. So this is reversible?"
Brett:"Sure, man. No worries. We'll meet tonight at the bar again and chat how our day went?"
Trent:"I don't know how to feel about this, bro"
Brett:"Just try enjoying being another person"
Trent:"Do you realise there are some no go things including intimate stuff and hygiene?"
Brett:"Sure I do. I'm already holding your dick in YOUR hands right now"
Trent:"Dude! Not cool. I meant more stuff like shitting etc. But yeah, this too."
Brett:"I gotta say Trent. You have a very nice dick"
Trent:"I'll comment on your size when I find it in the bushes I guess. Have you never heard of trimming?"
Brett:"Keeping it natural, baby face"
Trent:"Fine, let's see each other tonight at 8, ok?"
Brett:"Enjoyyy" Hangs up
Trent:"Jesus, this guy. I hope he doesn't fuck up something or someone"
Starts observing himself. "I must say, It feels good to look like a mature man and not a teenager. All of this hair. And the moustache is hot too. I could never grow this thing"
Trent looked down and had a mischievous thought. "Well, Brett. Since you have already held my dick, I think it's time to step it up. Gonna see if you can last longer than I do" Trent said with a smile and whipped out his new hard hairy dick
Saturday August the 3rd, bar, 8:04 PM
Brett is sitting amused in the bar, eating chips on the table and drinking beer. Winking at the ladies looking at his direction.
A waitress came by his table:"Want another?"
Brett noticed his old incoming body:"Sure, and another one for my friend who just arrived. Thank you, sweetheart" he said as his flirtatious look almost seduced the local waitress
Trent:"You need to stop!"
Brett:"What? I was just flirting"
Trent:"Not that. Stop eating those chips. God knows how many calories you ate already"
Brett:"So you don't mind that I was flirting with her?"
Trent:"Nah, I don't care. I jerked off your dick for like the fifth time half an hour ago"
Brett:"What? You beast. I would have never expected that. Cool. You have a really good dick to jerk off too. I didn't expect to shoot so far tho. Made a bit of a mess"
A couple off bikers started eavesdropping to their conversation and turning heads
Trent:"You might want to quiet down, or we're gonna get beaten up for mistakenly speaking like gay guys"
Brett:"But you gotta admit that my body is not so bad, right? All the hair and everything. You like it"
Trent:"It's not bad, but I prefer being in my own body. I'm used to it."
Brett:"Ok, I'll pretend I didn't hear the part before about masturbation. But what do you say? We didn't even have enough time to see what the life is like in our new bodies. It's only been a day"
Trent:"And your point is?"
Brett:"Let's stay swapped for a while. We can swap back anytime we want. It's reversible. We know almost everything about each other, so pretending to be the other one will be easy. You'll just teach me your workout routine, I'll show you... what games to play and how to set up a livestream and we'll figure it out"
Trent:"Livestream? That's all you got?"
Brett:"Come on, man. We got nothing to loose"
Trent:"I don't know man. It's gonna be complicated. I agreed to leave for a few weeks to work at one of our gym branches in another city. And now you'll be the one that has to go. I think now is not the best time"
Brett:"So? I can update you about everything. We can chat all the time. We can call. And I got nothing to do. Actually, you might need to find some job for those few weeks. And there's never gonna be a better time then now. We're single, ready to mingle. So let's enjoy that month"
Trent:"You wanna stay swapped the whole tíme I'm gone?"
Brett:"Yeah, I'll be a fitness instructor/viral star and you'll ne enjoying my chill life"
Trent:"Chill life. Man, you won't even recognise your life when we'll swap back"
Brett:"So you agree?"
Trent:"Yeah, what the hell. I'll be a gorilla for a month"
Brett:"Deal. Now, let's see if you'll have a better game in finding a hookup then me"
Sunday, August 4th
Brett sends a text to Trent:"Why do I feel like my body still hasn't gone through puberty?"
Trent:"Piss off. Yours looks like it went trough yours several times."
Brett:"Nah, gotta be honest. I'm really enjoying this lean figure and hairless body"
Trent:"And my dick..."
Brett:"Haha, yeah and your dick. How are you doing in my body?"
Trent:"Feels pretty weird to be so hairy, but gotta admit it's a nice change. Like... feeling so manly"
Brett:"Yeah, but tip for that hairy stomach. Don't cum on it. It's really irritating to get cum from it"
Trent:"Never had the issue in my body, so yeah. Thanks for the tip"
Brett:"No problem. I had to try it out in yours haha"
Trent:"Doesn't this feel kinda gay to you? All the dick and jerk off talk. Appreciating each other's bodies"
Brett:"Nah. We're exploring, man. Who knows if we ever get that chance. Gotta enjoy it"
Wednesday August 7th
Trent:"How are you settling in?"
Brett:"Yeah. Pretty great. I just jerked off to some porn"
Trent:"Ew. I mean the appartement"
Brett:"Whooops. Sorry. Right. Yeah it's nice. Very clean. Very modern"
Trent:"It's yours only for a month so don't destroy anything there"
Brett:"It's kinda poetic right. New appartement, new body, new job"
Trent:"I don't see anything poetic about me playing games in front of a camera"
Brett;"Dude you have to. My fans are gonna wonder what happened to me"
Trent:"Fine. I'll log in tonight. By the way. Dude your feet smell so much when you work out."
Brett:"Work out? You took my body to the gym?
Trent:"Yeah. I had to show off these bushes somewhere, right?"
Brett:"Ahhh thanks man. Looking good"
Trent:"And I think oke girl was checking you... me out"
Brett:"If you can score than go for it. I'm actually late for a date. Or... how do you call it if you're just gonna have dinner and fuck?"
Trent:"Standard hook up man. Please be safe. Wear a condom. And watch our foe those carbs, man."
Brett:"Sure thing, bye"
Monday, August 12 th
Brett:"Dude do you like ever have to shave your face?"
Trent:"Sure I do. I just don't have to do it so often as you. Btw can I please shave off this moustache?"
Brett:"Absolutely not. You'll learn to love it and appreciate it. Just like I will your baby face"
Saturday, August 17th
Brett:"I have to admit I really love showing off your muscles man. I have been doing it constantly at every occassion. So many people turn their heads to take a peak"
Trent:"Yeah I get it. It helps with the confidence a bit"
Brett:"A bit? I feel like I can beat any fucker whk crosses me"
Trent:"Brett, please don't beat anyone in my body"
Brett:"Just kidding, man. How have you been"
Trent:"Well I tried being consistent with the gym. I think your body is doing pretty well"
Brett:"Daaaamn bro. I look good. You really do take care of my body really well"
Trent:"I was actually thinking I could offer this for money. Swapping with people, doing their routines and then swap back. But that's a talk for another time after we swap back"
Brett:"Yeha, sure. Cool idea. Anyway... how was the streaming?"
Trent:"I don't know, man. I think they are desperste for me to say your catchphrases, but they are so cringe."
Brett:"Nah, you have to do that. That's how you get into Tiktoks and become viral"
Trent:"Honestly. I can't wait to get back to my body and to my life back. So we will swap on September 2nd?
Brett:"Yeah. I suppose. Depends how the work will be etc. Anyway I gotta go man. Talk soon"
Trent to himself:"It feels like he's avoiding me with amswering more and more. Trent rubbed his hairy chest, recalling his sweet soft pecs that he missed.
Thursday, August 22nd
Trent:"Hey, man. How is it going?"
Friday, August 23rd
Trent:"Hey. I just wanna know if you're ok. I just wanna talk about the reversal."
Saturday:"please call me back as soon as possible"
Sunday, August 25th
Brett:"I'm ok"
Trent:"What the hell happened?"
Brett:"Nothing I just felt like I needed a break from phone and that stuff"
Trent:"Brett you didn't answer the phone for 4 days"
Brett:"Ok, I was avoiding you, cause I kinda fucked up and was afraid to tell you"
Trent:'What did you do? Is my body ok?"
Brett:"Yeah your body is unharmed. Nothing that bad. We just had a party in the appartement. Broke the TV and... I had unprotected sex with one girl. She didn't know if she was pregnant or not. So I was waiting. And congrats. You're not gonna be a dad"
Trent:"Brett..."
Brett:"I know. I'm so sorry. Won't happen again. Promise. I just got drunk once and it led to this. I'll be good now"
Trent:"Please, don't do anything anymore. I want to switch back"
Brett:"Nah man. We still gotta week to finish. You said until September 2nd."
Trent:"I didn't know you'd do something like this"
Brett:"Please Trent. I'm begging you. Just that one week"
Trent:"Fine. But don't do anything else!"
Sunday, September 1st
Brett:"Hey. Are you packed yet?"
Trent:"Hey. Not really. I planned on packing tommorow. You can come and help if you got time"
Brett:"Sure. I'll come by"
Monday, September 2nd
Trent arrives to the appartement. Brett is on the couch playing video games
The TV is new and there is a PlayStation on the table
Trent:"You didn't tell me you got back into gaming and that you bought all this."
Brett:"Yeha, I missed it. I thought to myself that you'd like it too. So I bought it. By the way. You should see how the fans dig it"
Trent:"Fans? You're live streaming in my body?"
Brett:"Yeah. The gamers are so into it when I'm flexing in the spare time. I even got a viral Tiktok already!"
Trent:"I think we should swap back, Brett. My life is out of your control now."
Brett:"I'm just using all the goods, man. You don't like my body anymore?"
Trent:"Stop changing the subject. I want to swap back"
Brett:"Ok... but on one condition"
Trent:"You want money?"
Brett;"Nah I want to have sex with my body. I want to have sex with you."
Trent:"You have lost your mind"
Brett:"Oh come on. Admit it, that you thought about it. Who gets the chance to fuck their body? To watch their body in the most animalistic moments from somebody else eyes?" Brett flexes his biceps to let Brett watch
Trent:"Brett..."
Brett stands up and goes towards Trent
Brett:"You know you want to kids thus face. To suck this hard dick" he says holding tightly his hardening bulge
Trent:"I... I do. I want to suck my dick"
Brett:"Atta boy"
They begin making out. The fast movements heading towards the bedroom could be described as chaotic, but for them it was a dance of passion. Brett was ripping his old clothes from his old body was all over his body, kissing his neck. Sucking each part of his skin
The kissed even more
Brett began to be more dominant. He gripped Trent's now receding hairline and pushed him down to suck his dick. Trent was choking. But did his best to swallow most of the shaft he now had. He had his dick in his mouth. He couldn't believe it. He is straight and he is sure of that. But this is absolutely different
Brett took his old body by the neck, choking him. "Say you love being in my body"
Trent:"Brett I can't breathe"
Brett:"Fine, let's do this the hard way"
He turned him around. Trent now on all fours. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't ready
Brett spit in his hand and spread it all over the head od his dick. Ready to penetrate his old hairy hole
Trent:"Brett wait... I... Ahhhhhhhh". Trent screamed in pain
Brett:"Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm just so horny. I love your body, Trent. I love every inch od it. Admit you like mine"
Trent:"Brett, please slow down"
Brett:"Naaah, you'll get used to it in a sex"
Trent:"Please, get lube or something"
Brett spit again to where his dick was penetrating Trent's ass. Brett:"Should do it"
Trent was still in pain, but now a new feeling was making him feel better. The pain was now... pleasant? He wanted to feel more. With every thrust from Brett. He felt like shitting himself and cumming at the same time
Brett:"Admit it. Admit you love being in my body" he sped up. Thrusting painfully.
Trent:"Yeah.... yes..."
Brett:"Louder"
Trent:"I do... I love your body. I love being you"
Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm gonna cum. Turn around. I want to cum on your chest"
Trent turned around. He could feel cum leaking from his dick. And now he saw his old face like he never did before. Brett was so into it. His face was full of lust, rage and mischief.
Brett:"Ahhhh. I'm cumming!"
The cum shot all over Trent. Not only on his chest, but also on his mouth and face
Trent watched in awe what just happened.
Brett:"Whew. That was a ride wasn't it? First gay sex. Am I right?"
Trent:"Brett... I?"
Brett:"Oh sorry. I have to catch my breath. You look so funny with my cum all over you. Haha. By the way. I'm glad you love your new body. You get to keep it"
Trent:"Brett, you said we would swap"
Brett:"Yeah I did. That's true. But after this little 'cum over your face' and 'dick in your ass' we made it permanent"
Trent watched in shock as his old body was still standing on top of him. Breathing rapidly and laughing.
Several months later
Hi my name is Brett. Welcome to my only fans channel. If you got any hairy request, hit me up
Brett in Trent's body:"Well this is just pathetic. Man, I knew you'd crumble. But this just seems you lost your mind"
Trent's massive colleague came next to him:"Hey, bro. What are you looking at?"
Brett:"Just looking how one of my friends threw away their life, kinda sad. But whatever. Their life, not mine"
Friend:"Hey, wanna grab a beer later this evening?"
Brett scanned his friend from top to bottom and smiled:"Sure thing. Be there at eight"
Brett thought about switching it up a little. That body would be amazing. But then he turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. And flexed
Brett:"Nah. I'm Trent. And I'm keeping this body"
A request from messages (another one who waited for a LONG time, sorry guys) for @swappwas
Hope you like it :)
P.S. written late at night on a phone with a very irritating autocorrect, so please excuse the mistakes
#friends body swap#body swapping#body swap#body switch#body switching#m2m body swap#straight to gay#Straight body swap
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(i only have) eyes for you
18+. mdni. smut. violence! horror themes throughout!! ghostface!eddie
day seven of spooky week and happy halloween freaks!!! i can’t believe i did it… seven days of consistent posting has taken genuine years off of my life lol. pls pretend they’re in college for this, i wrote it entirely that way and then decided they were going to be in steve’s house.. who knows
a/n: i listened to this song a lot while writing this because it is so creepy but so perfect for this fic! this was sorta kinda rushed but i’ve been working this entire week so finding the time to really delve into it the way i wanted to :,(
⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧
tap tap tap
the sound of something, or really someone rattles against your window, the faint sounds of someone whistling follow shortly after.
despite being wise to eddie’s tricks, the ominous tune makes your skin prickle, too spooked by the news of some masked murderer to think straight.
your window cracks open, the wooden frame scraping upwards loudly, a prolonged creak that signals that whatever it was, was now inside.
his cologne gives him away first, and then the lingering smell of weed that catches up to your nose soon after.
it was eddie, basking in the moonlight, just waiting for you to turn and see him.
“oh my fucking god,” you hiss, “you scared the shit out of me!” scowling as he pulls his limbs through the window.
he wastes no time in kicking off his shoes and practically diving across the room to land atop of you. his heaving chest pressed against yours, finding your frowning lips for a gentle kiss.
“‘m sorry sweetheart,” pouting his lips in an attempt to mock your worried tone, eddie found it endearing really, that you cared about him so.
“there’s a murderer out there, you know?” you scold.
“mhm, is there?”
“yes,” dropping the stern expression the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, delving underneath to grasp your waist, “and i’d really appreciate if you didn’t die.”
“i’m not gonna die,” he says entirely too confidently, “and neither are you.”
“what were you doing out there?”
“i had to.. do some business,” hoping you’d get the hint.
your upper lip snarls, having never liked the fact he dealt on the side. it was mostly a bit of weed to freshmen but the weekends were always busier. “oh,” you huff, running your hands along his sore shoulders.
“you asked,” eddie states plainly. it wasn’t as if he was entirely lying, because he had dropped off a gram for some useless kid.
he had just neglected to tell you what he and steve had done to the kid afterwards.
your eyes roll back, running your fingers up his neck and into his mane of hair, “i wish i hadn’t,” though judging by the fact that you hadn’t kicked him out, you can’t be too mad.
eddie hums, desperately trying to change the subject by trailing his hand further upwards, palming your boob with a soft groan.
“and what if i told you that i was the scary killer?” his knee shifts slightly, moving on top of yours to keep it pressed to the mattress. he’s got you trapped beneath his body, his large hands enveloping both of your wrists.
if you didn’t know eddie so well, you probably would’ve been much more afraid than you were. but you do know him, this had to be some stupid prank, something he’d thought up while high. so you do what he wants you to do and play into it. if he wants to pretend that he’s a weirdo then fine, you can play that game too.
“oh yeah?” you smirk, a feeble attempt to wriggle out of his grasp, “what’re you gonna do to me, mr ghostface?” rutting your hips up to meet his, sighing softly when you feel his hardened cock.
the fact that you’re even into this is simply abhorrent but you can already feel the wet patch growing in your panties, needly bucking your hips desperate for any friction to satiate the growing ache between your thighs.
he chuckles lowly, readjusting his grip on your wrists, leaving one hand pinning them both above your head, “well first..” his breath hot on your cheeks, “i’m going to fuck the shit out of you.” his pupils grow larger, darker somehow, “and then..” prodding his forefinger to your chest, slowly tracing down the length of your torso, “i might just gut you,” his eyes follow his finger all the way down.
you quiver under his touch, breathless. holy fuck. it’s disgusting. it is. but you can’t help yourself, practically panting with animalistic need. it’s not like he was actually going to kill you see, eddie was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a murderer.
“please,” you beg, squirming as his hand slips into the waistband of your jeans. he’s so cold, fingers like blocks of ice that make your skin prickle.
“you want that? hmm?”
you’re gasping at this point, pleading with him to just touch you. he had gotten what he’d wanted from this game so why couldn’t he hurry up? you’re literally jelly beneath him, malleable and just so eager to touch.
“gotta use your words baby.. i wanna hear you,” pausing his descent into your underwear, much to your dismay. legs springing apart as a sort of encouragement to get him to continue.
“yes.. yes i want that,” desperately panting underneath his sly smirk, he’s enjoying this far too much and you can’t help but to just give it to him. so desperate to please, even if it was borderline psychotic.
“good,” he breathes, curling his fingers around the waistband of your sodden underwear. his teeth emerging to graze upon your neck, making sure to leave splotches of violet and deep maroon so that everybody knew whose you really were.
your hips cant upward the second eddie’s fingers tease your hole, crying out for him to cut the shit and just touch you properly. he was a cruel man, unable to satisfy himself with any normal level of foreplay, no. for eddie, he needed to keep this charade up for as long as possible.
“you been thinkin’ ‘bout me?” using his other hand to control your chin, keeping your flickering gaze somewhat on his face, “waiting f’me all night.. i can feel it,” plunging his fingers into your sopping cunt, drawing a sharp hiss from your lips.
“think about you all the time,” you nod, whimpering against his mouth, keeping a strong grip on his neck.
eddie grins, the twinkle returning to his dark eye, letting the charade slip only slightly, “i know you do, and i know it because you never.. ever leave my mind,” his thumb beginning to swirl around your clit, letting go of your jaw to wrap his hands loosely around your neck instead.
“fuckk,” you shudder, canting your hips in response to his fingers gliding in and out of your hole, thumb performing laps around your clit and sensitive folds.
“you’re so beautiful like this,” he utters, dotting hungry kisses to your wetted lips, punctuating his longing words. “i just wanna keep you like this forever,” the hunger returning to his blown out pupils, fingers squeezing your throat.
he wouldn’t hurt you, not on purpose. but his grip was getting mighty tight, restricting your breath as your leg slides up between his. the twisting in your abdomen only worsens, dizzying as the pleasure intensifies.
squeezing out a garbled, “eds,” that makes him loosen his grip, flashing back to reality as you squeeze around his fingers, thrashing around underneath his body as your orgasm rocks your bones, the sweetest sounds fill the room.
“that’s it sweetheart,” eddie coos, sliding his hand from your shorts to grasp your hip, kissing over his previously made markings.
“i love you,” muttering breathlessly as you regain control of your limbs.
he breathes heavily into your neck, cocking his head up to meet your gaze, “i love you too,” beaming at your lovesick gaze, praying to god that you’d never find out about the horrific things he was truly doing tonight.
-
eddie’s idea of date night usually entails him being able to whisk you off somewhere dark and alone at some point during the night. so when you’d suggested a drive-in movie, he’d been positively over the moon.
he’d thought seeing a nightmare on elm street was a little on the nose considering the shit he’d been up to recently but you couldn’t know and besides, it meant you’d be curled into his shoulder for the majority of the movie anyway.
you sit now, with your face buried into his shoulder, both arms clinging tight to his.
not because of the movie though. no, this was because his right hand had crept underneath your skirt, pumping his fingers in and out of your soaked hole.
it wasn’t as if every other couple weren’t doing the exact same thing, it was an unspoken custom of the drive-in experience.
“wait,” you pant, “let me-,” letting go to reach down, pushing your seat further back. your fingers curl around something plastic, reemerging with the damning mask he’d shoved beneath the seat. “what the fuck is this?” you shriek, sitting straight up.
eddie’s blood runs cold, frozen as you flap the plastic mask in his face. it wasn’t even supposed to be in here, let alone for you to find so easily.
“oh my god,” he sighs, thinking on his toes, “it was for a prank,” grabbing the rubber from your fingers, “me and steve were gonna scare argyle and jonathan… it’s not what you think babe,” hoping that measly excuse would be enough to get you off of his back.
“a prank?” you hiss, “is that funny to you? pretending to be some psycho murderer?” funnily enough, he didn’t really have to pretend.
“no!” he frowns, pettily grabbing at the mask though you keep it out of reach, “that’s why we didn’t do it,” sounding completely desperate as he’s lying through his teeth, “sweetheart, i know what it looks like but i promise it’s not like that,” the guilt ripples through his chest, he didn’t want to lie to you but what choice did he have?
you frown, gripping the cracked plastic as if it could tell you the answer itself, “that’s not funny eddie,” lowering your clenched fist at last, “what if someone had seen you? what if someone else found this?”
you’re angry, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. pupils dilated and your jaw clenched, he couldn’t bare to ever see you like this. god only knows how you’d react if you ever found out he was truly responsible for these killings.
“i’m sorry,” utterly exasperated, you couldn’t find out, not now, not ever. “i wasn’t thinking.. i’ve just been-,” his nostrils flare, hoping you could forget about this and quickly, “thinking about everyone dying, you know? i’m scared,” grabbing your hands to really accentuate his point.
“we’re all scared, eds,” his nickname allowing him to breathe at last, you’d never use eds when you were mad, never. “that doesn’t mean you should start pretending to kill people too, you’re so.. stupid,” said endearingly, far calmer than you were five minutes ago.
“i know.. i’m sorry baby,” squeezing your fingers together, “i love you, okay?”
your pout could solve wars, an immediate punch to his gut that had him instantly crawling on his knees for forgiveness. it’s no different now, jutting your bottom lip out with a slight quiver, vowing him to never make such a stupid mistake again.
-
eddie drives this time, rushing back from the large house they’d been at. he doesn’t even know the kids name, he just knows his spleen no longer resided within his gut.
this one was his idea, some kid that’d stiffed him for a couple grams a few months ago. stupid stuff really, but they’d needed to throw the cops off the scent.
“so,” steve begins, pulling eddie from his head, “you still wanna do this?”
he didn’t, not really. not while you were there.
“i don’t see any other way we can end this,” he sighs, turning onto the darkened street, “it has to end,” you were getting too wise, thumbing at the scratch marks on his arm or questioning why he was always out so late recently.
nothing would ever be worth losing you. not in a million years.
“alright,” steve pouts, enjoying this far more than he first let on, “what’re you gonna do about that sweet girlfriend of yours? i think we should spook her first, really up the stakes,” bouncing around the cab of the van.
“absolutely not, don’t even think about getting her involved with this shit,” baring his teeth, appalled that steve would ever even suggest something like that. you were all wide spoke about, filling up his thoughts even as he was driving a knife into the back of jason carver.
“whaat? you don’t even wanna scare her a little? make her squirm,” his smirk evident in his tone.
“i mean it steve,” eddie warns, flashing the boy a harsh glare, “if you touch her, i’ll kill you.”
the car goes silent for a moment until steve cackles, his grin shining through, “not if i kill you first.”
eddie’s blood runs cold, they could end this entire thing right now if that was what he wanted. his knuckles glow white, gripping the steering wheel as opposed to wrapping his hands around steve’s neck, “are you fucking serious?” spitting his words out, “because i’ll do it steve, i won’t fucking hesitate.”
steve pauses, trying to control his heaving breaths, “calm down loverboy, i’m not gonna hurt her,” sucking his teeth as if eddie were the crazed one here, like he hadn’t just been speaking complete sense.
“don’t even joke about that shit,” slapping his hand against the leather steering wheel, “fucking dumbass, i can’t believe you,” looking to steve with utter disbelief in his eye.
“chill out man,” steve calms, relaxing into the seat, “i’m not gonna do anything, wouldn’t wanna piss you off now, would i?”
-
eddie had thought the entire night through, every second meticulously planned so that you’d never end up in the crossfire. he just needed your willing cooperation and reassurance that his partner in crime wouldn’t lose his mind.
the last, he can’t promise.
steve had been more erratic than ever, obvious that letting go of this power wasn’t anything he wanted. eddie doesn’t know how he can live with the guilt, but then, steve didn’t look into your bright eyes each night and feel that same stab of betrayal he did.
he takes your hand now, leading you up the steep staircase and into the bathroom, under the guise of getting away from the noise, locking the door behind him as you stand at the sink, only slightly concerned.
“what’s this for?” dipping your chin when his hands meet your waist, pressing your back against the cold porcelain.
“i just wanted to.. get away,” eddie remarks, knowing that any minute now, all hell would break loose downstairs and he’d have to stab the shit out of people he called his friend.
“oh yeah? that’s all you wanted me in here for?” walking your fingers up his chest, settling on his shoulder.
“well,” letting his grin cock to the side, “what do you suggest we do in here?”
you hum, a sweet sound that makes his heart race, “i think we could start with a bit of kissing and then.. see where it goes,” weaving your fingers into his hair, bringing his face closer.
“i like the sound of that,” he coos, but the guilt is unimaginable, your oblivious smile soon to be wiped off your face and it’ll be all his fault.
your lips connect in a harmonious symphony, he can feel your smile radiating against his skin, your fingertips tracing light lines on his scalp, a motion that would usually soothe him has him anxious instead.
he so terribly wants to stay here for the duration of the night, or at least until steve had pushed his luck too far and ended up dead.
but that can’t happen, without eddie, this wouldn’t end.
you shift closer, pressing your body to his with a hum, hoping to turn this into something more that he just can’t give right now.
as if by magic, there’s a loud thud from downstairs, a blood curdling scream that echoes through the walls follows behind. your eyes full of pure dread meet his when you spring apart.
“what the fuck was that?” tightening your grip on the back of his neck.
“i.. don’t know,” a barefaced lie, “i’m gonna go and check it out, alright?” coming eye-to-eye with you, a plea of the highest order.
“what? are you fucking crazy?”
“stay here,” he orders, kindly slipping your bra strap back onto your shoulder, “lock the door after me and don’t come out.”
“no! don’t leave me in here,” true terror ringing through your words. he wishes he could tell you that you truly have nothing to worry about. not like the rest of them.
“you’ll be okay,” eddie soothes, grabbing your hand, “i promise,” his thumb tracing patterns onto your wrist.
“please come back quickly,” pleading with him not to go, your fingers shaking as they grasp his arm.
“i will,” pressing his forehead to yours, giving one last squeeze before he breaks apart, “promise,” slipping out of the door, only waiting to hear the quiet click of the lock before scuffling along to steve’s room.
his outfit had been stored in steve’s closet, the dark robe and rubbery mask that had now become dark and cracked. something about the fabric cascading over his skin had him more confident than anything, forgetting all about who was killing, unfazed by their distant screams.
he tiptoes down the stairs, careful not to bump into any stragglers, the knife poised in his hand when he hits the kitchen, fingers twitching around the handle ready to slash whoever came out first.
something squeals from behind the door, giving away their location immediately, some girl steve had tried to fuck, an obvious victim, someone quick and easy, someone you wouldn’t care about too much.
the knife plunges into her side, the dark red liquid spurting out and all over the linoleum floor, he’s sure steve’s dad wouldn’t care too much.
steve stomps through the kitchen, eyeing the scene before nodding to eddie, gesturing he follow him into the living room. it’s a silent affair, they could never know who was listening.
but eddie does as he’s told, walking in to find a barely-breathing tommy hagan, his hand reaching out pathetically as his eyelids flutter and his lungs fill with blood. eddie’s never liked him, he certainly wouldn’t be sad to see him go.
after the house is emptied, steve was to dress tommy in his robe and mask, plant the knife in his fist and call the police. they’d rehearsed it a thousand times, how steve would slash himself with his knife and eddie would scurry back up to the bathroom with you, waiting until the cops came to get you.
steve’s laugh echoes through the quiet house, maniacal as he drives his blade into tommy’s gut, his last attempts at protesting come out as squeaks before the couch turns a deep red and the sputtering comes to a sudden stop.
but eddie doesn’t want to play that game.
steve was too sporadic, untrustworthy and downright stupid, if he were to be honest. who’s to say he’d never turn on eddie? kill him or worse, you? eddie couldn’t trust him, the boy was out of it, drunk on the power it gave him.
so instead of doing anything they’d rehearsed, eddie forces the knife into steve’s chest, quickly taking it out to drive another jab into his throat, deafening his screams. steve’s eyes full of confusion, a lingering look of betrayal that makes his chest sting, if only for a second.
his body thuds as it hits the floor, a garbled sound full of air escape his throat, an anguished cry that vaguely resembles eddie.
he stares down at his accomplices twitching body, a sadness twinging his heart. steve would undoubtedly still be alive if he hadn’t been stupid enough to start joking about hurting you, all he’d had to do was keep his mouth shut and let the night play out.
but he hadn’t. desperate to make some edgy joke that now lead to him bleeding out on his living room floor.
eddie clears his throat, unwilling to dwell on his emotions for too long. he had to dress tommy and find the phone. there was too much at stake now to let steve ruin this from beyond the grave.
out of the corner of his eye he spots that same glittering top that he’d left locked in the bathroom. he can’t believe you’d been stupid enough to come out of there. why you couldn’t just listen to him for once was completely beyond him.
he bounds along behind you, esnuring that absolutely nobody was skulking around the grand house before clamping one hand over your mouth, the other snaking around your hip to bring you to the cold, wooden floor.
you scream against his palm, vibrating the skin with your pleas for help. eyes wide and watering as they meet the mask, he’s not surprised, for all you know, the knife in his hand was going straight into your side next.
he straddles your waist, keeping your pressed into the floor and not a problem for him, “shh.. sh-shut up,” he hushes, ensuring that the hall really was empty before he revealed his identity.
the thrashing stops, stilling as the cogs slowly turn and his voice becomes familiar, a blood-chilling flash of hurt overtakes your fearful eyes instead.
bile rises in his throat, sick to his stomach with the fact that he could do this to you, make you so scared of him.
“it’s me, it’s me sweetheart,” frantically trying to get you to calm down, to maybe not be so angry at him when this was all over. “promise not to scream and i’ll let go,” itching to take his gloved hand from your mouth, to prove his love.
you nod hopelessly, flashing him an expression that he really can’t place, somewhere between terror, disgust and relief.
he does as he promised, removing his hand from your mouth to slide the mask up, hoping that maybe seeing his face would help, would make you not hate him.
“baby.. it’s not- i can explain everything to you, i just need..” panting his words, scrambling for some kind of excuse to get you back to safety, “you have to listen to me, okay? you trust me, don’t you?”
your face says anything but, watching your bottom lip tremble makes him fume, so incredibly pissed off that he was capable of this.
“please,” eddie begs, pleads even, “i’d never.. ever hurt you, you know that, right?”
“i.. i trust you,” the words squeaked rather than spoken, accompanied by salty streams falling down your cheeks.
he nods, daring to lift his mask. maybe eye contact would make you comfortable, “i’m gonna take you back to the bathroom.. okay? wait for me.. i’ll be five minutes, yeah?” running his knuckles over your mascara stained cheek, “and then i’ll tell you everything,” his tone reeking of desperation.
much to his surprise, and utter delight, you lean into his hand, nodding with your pitiful trembling lip, “okay.. okay,” so innocent, totally unassuming about what he was going to admit to.
eddie clambers off of your body, offering his hand out and praying to whichever god would listen to make sure you wouldn’t run.
you don’t, of course you don’t. taking his hand as you climb up off of the floor, shoulders slumped over as you allow him to move you down the hallway, a gentle hand resting on your waist as you go.
“five minutes baby.. i’ll be back,” he reassures for the hundredth time, “promise me you’ll stay here this time?”
you nod, grabbing his hand just to feel his skin on yours, “i love you,” so sickly sweet he almost forgets what he had to do. but he had to do this for you, or he’d never hear that again.
“i love you too,” with full sincerity, letting the door shut between you as he continues his mission, sprinting back to the living room to get tommy in his clothes and shake any hints of evidence off of himself.
tommy’s heavier than he once anticipated, his lifeless body proving hard to contort into different clothes.
but he does it, dropping the knife on the couch next to his body, giving steve one last sympathetic glance before barrelling down the hallway to the bathroom, pummelling his fist against the door.
he hopes you’ll understand, you had to. everything he did, he did it with you in mind.
his fist pummels against the wood, relief washing over his body when he hears the tiny click that lets him inside and confirms that you didn’t hate him. you trusted him, completely, just as he thought.
eddie’s quick to lock it again, even while knowing the killer was inside of the room with you, the other strewn dead across the floor in a pool of his own blood.
before he can even breath long enough to curate his explanation, the echoing sound of shouting and footsteps fill the house, the cops forcing their way inside and discovering the scene.
the bathroom door splinters, eddie’s arms shielding you from the crossfire of wood. it’s the police, flashlights pointing right at your horrified faces, sharing concerned glances between one another.
“we’ve got two confirmed alive,” one of them squawks into his radio, a fuzzy crackle coming back.
“eddie? eddie munson? we’d like to speak to you about your friend, steve harrington.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson one shot#ghostface!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#chelseeebespookyweek#Spotify
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txt on girlfriend day :3 (summer edition)
bf!txt x fem!reader (mostly fluff, some suggestive material)
⭐️ soobin
soob takes you camping!!
he is such a granola bf lolz, he literally knows everything about how to survive in the wild and you find it so attractive 🤭
he sets the tent up and lets you help him if you want, but mostly he wants his gf to relax in the shade, not overworking herself on her special day <3
"you deserve princess treatment every day of course," he pecks you on the cheek, interlacing his fingers with yours while you rock on the hammock together. "but today you are the queen of the entire universe!" he starts kissing your face everywhere and it soon escalates to a tickle fight.
once the tent is set up by the shore, you walk over to the dock which of course results in jumping into the lake together, fingers interlaced.
"three! two...!" and before he reaches one you're already running full speed towards the edge of the dock, pulling you along with him. you both reunite underwater, coming up for a breath only to meet your lips together and literally could not break them apart ^3^
after drying off, the two of you roast marshmallows as the sun sets, making smores for one another! he made you as many smores until your heart's content. "my baby needs to eat as much as she wants!" he loved seeing the look on your face when you took a bite like it was the best thing you'd ever tasted.
once it was dark and crickets chirped, the two of you got cozy in the tent under thick blankets, only the lantern's warm lighting illuminating his face as you looked into his dark brown eyes. he told you the story of the day he fell in love with you as he held you in his arms, his voice soothing you like no other.
a kiss turned into another, which turned into another, which then turned into a makeout, and then his shirt was off, and then the lantern was turned off and that's when you knew tonight would be an extra special night ;)
(currently working on turning this into a full fic! :P)
⭐️ yeonjun
junie takes you clothing shopping 😋
but first, he wakes you up with snuggles, (really passionate morning sex), and your favorite latte that he took the time to perfectly prepare before you awoke.
you both wear matching outfits ofc hehe.
he takes you to your favorite clothing stores. "get anything you want baby," he kisses the side of your neck before leaving the car and if you didn't have self-control you'd want him to rip your clothes off here and now :p
he always works so hard to be able to get you whatever you need and want, of course there is no problem spending it all on you!!
as someone with impeccable fashion sense, he helps you pick out some summer outfits that he had in mind.
he cannot contain his big grin when you walk out of the fitting room wearing the prettiest outfit ever! he is literally so grateful to have such a beauty like you <3
let's not forget, he also takes you to plenty of lingerie stores and you two have lots of fun there ;)
"this one is for tonight," you wink at him as you hold a red lace piece against your body and his mind goes to unexplainable places.
"can't wait to take it off of you," he whispers in your ear and the tension is already through the roof and you cannot wait to get home.
once you get home from dinner, you get straight to it and boy is it hot ;)
⭐️ beomgyu
you and gyu stay the weekend at your beach house :)
you two had met as kids and grew up together. you crossed paths because both of your families owned beach houses right next to each other! he was always the boy next door <3
anyway, it’s ten years later and you both now own one of the houses together as a vacation home. the two of you love to spend weekend getaways here!
you chase each other around the beach like you're young all over again, falling in love over and over and over again.
you go to the farmers market together and pick fresh groceries for tonight's dinner he is cooking for you :)
you get home, put a record on the turntable, and cook together. you sip red wine, slow dancing in the kitchen as the spaghetti noodles boil.
he serves your plate, carefully using spaghetti sauce to write "happy gf day baby <3" on the side of your plate and your heart melts.
dinner is so yummy and you eat it on the balcony, just watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon, feeling the damp ocean wind comb through your hair.
"you have some red sauce here!" you wipe his lip with your thumb and he wants nothing but to kiss you all over.
he carries you upstaris after dinner once the sun completely sets, laying you down on the queen bed you both share.
he wanted to do so much for you; run you a bath, give you a massage, sing you a song.. but right now, you could not keep your hands off of each other. your eyes said it all.
"i want to show you how much i love you," he whispered against your lips as he pulled you down down into the sheets with him.
(this is a snippet of the full version i've been writing that will be published soon!)
⭐️ taehyun
terry takes you to the national art museum in the city because he knows how much you love going to museums with him <3
he takes the cutest candid pics of you while you marvel over the paintings, sure to post them on his instagram and send them to his family🥺
he takes you out for boba after because how can it be a perfect day without boba??
plus he loves hearing when you compare his large shining eyes to boba pearls hehe.
you walk around a quaint park holding hands, stopping inside little shops and simply enjoying your time together.
he stops at a bench under a tree to get something from his bag. "i have something for you," he holds something behind his back. your face grows hot, stomach twisting with the question of what it might be.
he stretches out his hand, holding a small box, opening it to reveal a pink, sparkling promise ring. "i want to be with you foreve-" he barely gets his words out before you've jumped into his arms, squeezing his strong frame as hard as you could.
tears stain your cheeks. you cannot contain how grateful you are to have such an amazing boy in your life <3
" i want to be with you forever, tae," and you share the sweetest kiss. he's sure to take over 100 pictures of you with your new sparkly ring on too :)
⭐️ huening kai
kai takes you on a drive but you have no idea where he is taking you!
the car ride consists of you blasting music and singing your hearts out, listening to his amazing vocals. you could seriously listen to him sing all day.
you arrive at the spot; atop a tall hill and looking over the entire city. its golden hour, the sun is starting to set and he looks so beautiful in the orange-yellow light.
"close your eyes!" he yells once he leads you out of the car and you hear him rummaging around in the back seat.
you open your eyes when he tells you to as he pops open the trunk of his suv and behold! the cutest arrangement of things decorate large space.
fairy lights adorn the sign he made you reading "happy girlfriend's day to the best girl in the entire planet and universe!!!" with a bunch of colorful hearts and cute emojis he attempted to draw.
there are pillows and blankets and a basket of your favorite candies. he also got you plushies and packed a picnic of your favorite fast food because he just had to.
the two of you sat in the trunk eating an arrangement of your favorite food, candy, and soda. a bit unhealthy, but it’s your special treat that he knows you had been craving it the entire week.
after eating, you lay on top of his car watching the stars, sharing little kisses and giggling over inside jokes.
he hands you a small jar in which you discover holds tons of little pieces of paper. you read them one at a time. your eyes begin to well.
he had written over 100 different things he loves about you on each piece of paper.
"kai," you look at him, tears welling your eyes.
a million i love you’s are what you expressed through the tightest embrace.
note: each and every one of you are so so special, treat yourself to a little something today :) here is a little treat, i <3 you!! also, please let me know if you’d like me to turn any of these into full length stories💓
#txt fluff#txt fanfic#txt series#txt imagines#kai txt#txt x reader#txt x you#txt x y/n#txt x moa#txt fic#txt reader#txt#txt post#txt smut#beomgyu fic#beomgyu fluff#choi beomgyu#yeonjun fic#soobin x you#soobin drabbles#txt boyfriend#txt ot5#ot5#txt taehyun#txt huening kai#taehyun x reader#huening kai fic#kang taehyun#choi yeonjun#choi soobin
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I seriously love the relationship between Megumi and reader. He is in fact, a mama's boy lol
But Dadgojo and Megumi moments are cute as hell too
So herw you go a small oneshot: Little Megs would always go to reader's or Tsumiki's bedroom when he has nightmares. He already trusts you enough to see him vulnerable and goes to seek for your protection, and of course you never complain and comfort him.
But this time is different. He had a nightmare and you were on a mission and Tsumiki is staying at a friend's house.
There is only one person left in the house: Gojo.
So, with the greatest shame and irritation in the world at having to depend on his annoying and childish dad, he goes to Gojo's room because at moments like these he can't stand being alone. So he eats his shame and goes to seek for him.
You can imagine reader's surprise when she comes back home in the morning and finds Satoru and your son cuddling together on the bed, Megumi's hold on Gojo's shirt tight as both sleep peacefully.
You swear you are not like Satoru, but you can't help it but to pick up the phone and take thousands of pictures of this rare moment, knowing it wont happen again (because Megumi won't do it twice after Satoru didn't stop mocking him about it.)
honestly you might as well just write the series for me. like do you wanna look in my inbox? you can write all of the one shots currently rotting away (i’m not asking im pleading)
this is so correct though.
megumi’s just not used to not having you home. when this arrangement first began you took some time off, let satoru handle everything (as per usual) so you could take care of the kids. adapt.
when you resume your former busy schedule, both of the kids are slightly thrown off. and satoru too—because he misses you. he’s known the caress of your absence and isn’t fond of the feeling.
and now it’s megumi’s turn.
but the boy doesn’t start having serious nightmares till around seven or eight (despite the…lack of an upbringing, the rotting apartment and cuddling with tsumiki in bed so neither of them froze in their sleep).
when it happens the first time, he sits there, waiting for some answer to come. he’s a quiet, stoic kid—and he doesn’t get scared. he’s not like his soft, kind sister. he doesn’t even flinch when others would jump.
he lays there until he falls asleep again. and he won’t mention it. megumi doesn’t need to worry you or satoru (mostly you) with this.
then it happens a second time.
this time he’s woken up on the verge of tears—already passed that breaking point—and he can’t stay in bed. he can’t lay there and recall images of monsters no child should understand.
so he gets out of bed—but just for a glass of water. he’s still not scared.
though it just so happens that you’re already in the kitchen when he gets there, and it just so happens that you know things about him—just because you know—so there’s nothing he can do to hide any of it.
still, you’ll only tilt your head at him, giving him a half-sleepy smile. “hey, megs. you okay?”
“i’m thirsty.”
so you get him his glass of water and you watch while he takes tentative sips.
again, somehow you just know. the same way that megumi knows that you know.
“are you having a hard time sleeping?” you ask him, after a minute of silence.
megumi shakes his head on instinct.
you’re still smiling. “bad dreams?”
and he could lie—he’s so very used to lying about things like this. megumi doesn’t want people to see him as this little boy who needs their help. he wants an equal playing field, and he doesn’t want to be scared.
but he is.
and when it comes to you, and only you, megumi is a terrible liar.
so he nods, and your smile remains—sure as always.
“i get ‘em too,” you whisper to him. “even when i was a kid. especially then.”
“you do?”
“yup. all the time.”
“what…” megumi furrows his brows. “what do you do?”
“hmm…” you go and stand beside him at the counter, leaning your chin on a hand. “well, it depends on the dream. sometimes they’re… smaller. and i can usually sleep through those ones, but i always remember them in the morning.”
megumi nods; he has all sorts of dreams.
dreams of running around with tsumiki, of going on missions with gojo. he dreams of you in the kitchen, you telling him to keep going. and he dreams of the dark. of a house that could never be a home.
he dreams of being all alone, and when he wakes up, it feels so real that he can’t help it.
he begins to believe that it’s true.
“when i have bigger ones, though, that i can’t sleep though… well, usually i just wake satoru up.”
megumi frowns. “why?”
“he’s so irritating that i forget all about the dream.”
“oh. yeah.”
you laugh. “or i just ask him for a hug. he always says yes. or i wake him up and we steal a car and drive around for a bit,” you add, almost absentmindedly.
megumi blinks, about to interrupt, but you continue.
“sometimes i just lay in bed until i fall back asleep. or i get up and do something else—get some water,” you give him a pointed look, “so that it feels less real.”
“does it work?”
“most of the time,” you answer, so softly. and you’re right there next to him, still smiling. “wanna watch a movie or something? i’ll let you pick.”
megumi frowns. you don’t like to let them stay up late (despite satoru’s many attempts to go out for gas station ice cream at three in the morning). “really?”
“sure.”
and you sit with him on the couch, not cuddling, but close enough.
megumi listens to you laugh at the random movie he put on—something tsumiki likes—and it feels a little bit better. he feels a little less alone.
and later on, just when he’s falling back to sleep, almost slumping on you, you’ll whisper to him: “the thing about nightmares, megumi,” your hand is in his hair and your voice is almost a lullaby. “is that you can always wake up.”
so megumi gets in the habit of looking for you when he’s had a nightmare—the bad ones, like you mentioned. he doesn’t ask you for a hug, or ask you to sit with him, but you do anyway.
and somehow the two of you will end up on the couch, or in his bed, so close together that megumi can’t have another bad dream (because he’s suffocating).
but on this night—the one night where you’re not home—megumi isn’t sure what to do.
because he doesn’t want to be alone. he doesn’t want to feel trapped in his room, and there’s no way he’s falling back asleep now, and why did he forget that you weren’t going to be home tonight, and—
“psst,” a voice says, a little bit amused. “why are you awake, kid?”
almost immediately megumi straightens. his arms cross like it’s a habit. and when he looks to gojo, he’s already expecting the grin. “why are you?”
“i was calling y/n. or she was calling me. it’s hard to be away from me, you know,” gojo is sprawled out on the couch, taking megumi’s spot.
“it can’t be that hard.”
gojo shakes his head, pouting. “are you awake because the guilt from all of the cruel things you say is keeping you up?”
megumi rolls his eyes. says a curt: “no,” and then pauses.
if you’re not here then what…
“what else could it be?”
“nothing,” megumi answers, immediately defensive.
gojo purses his lips, considering megumi. “why do you look weird?”
“why do you?”
“is that the only insult you’ve got?”
and finally, the boy gives in. he steps over to the couch, sitting down next to gojo (ten feet away) with his arms still crossed. “it’s late.”
“that’s no excuse, young fushiguro.”
they both sit there for a moment, staring off.
then gojo speaks up: “you know y/n would kill you if she knew you were awake, right?”
“no. she would kill you.”
“that’s…” gojo huffs. “true.”
at this, megumi lets out a grunt—it could be a laugh, could be a cough.
he doesn’t want to tell gojo about the dreams, he decides. because he doesn’t want to be ridiculed, and he doesn’t want gojo to tell you and then—
he’s not even scared. you’re gone, tsumiki is sleeping, and gojo is… staring at him.
“are you going to answer my question?”
megumi merely grunts again.
“c’mon, don’t make this awkward.”
“can’t. you already have.”
gojo scoffs, leaning back again, crossing his arms in a poor mimic. “we’ve been letting nanami watch you too much,” he says, but continues. “fine. don’t tell me. i can call y/n back right now and you can talk to—“
“no,” megumi looks over to him, wide eyes.
“then speak, kid.”
he sighs, annoyed. at least you’re right about one thing. it takes a moment, but megumi relents because he has to. “i had a bad dream.”
gojo’s face goes slack. “oh.”
megumi feels like crawling into himself, for just a moment, and then: “do you want to talk about it?”
blue eyes meet blue, and megumi frowns. “what?”
“do you want to talk about it?” gojo repeats, but… weirdly, this time. awkwardly.
“um..” is all the boy says, feeling like he should move away. like to his room away. like he should probably find someone else to live with, a random stranger, even, because that would be easier.
“i don’t know, okay?” gojo blurts out, like it was killing him not to. “that’s just what y/n asks me when i have a nightmare.”
“you have nightmares?”
gojo is running his hands through his hair, looking like he’s about to go on a tangent. but when megumi asks his question, gojo pauses. he gives megumi a look. “doesn’t everyone?”
megumi scowls. “i don’t know.”
“huh. well, i have them. sometimes.”
“and you tell y/n?”
gojo snorts, shaking his head. “there’s no telling y/n anything. she just—“
“knows.”
gojo nods, giving megumi a small wink that makes the little boy want to throw up.
“so…” gojo taps his fingers on the couch. “do you want to talk about it?”
“why would i want to talk about it with you?”
“well you came out into the living room looking all… surly.”
“surly?” megumi repeats, with a face.
“down. upset. sad.”
“i’m not sad.”
“people who aren’t sad don’t need to deny that they’re sad.”
“y/n isn’t here,” megumi says, shaking his head. “i could hit you and be fine.”
gojo laughs, again, relaxing once more. because the man cannot be serious for any longer than three minutes. it’s biologically impossible. “i’d like to see you try,” he whispers, and it’s just enough.
megumi falls asleep on the couch that night. he spends another half hour arguing with gojo about whatever he says—forgetting about his dream, the reason for coming into the living room in the first place.
and when you get home, you open the door to the sight of two boys, both drooling.
megumi has his head pressed against satoru’s shoulder, hair smushed against his face. satoru is crossing his arms, face tilted towards the ceiling as he snores.
…it’s pretty obvious what happens next.
#MEGUMI BROTHER. GET UP.#okay maybe not enough dad gojo. but the man can only be SO nice to megumi#(i don’t want to talk about the timeline not matching up with the events#it matches just trust me i wrote it#a typical family#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jujutsu gojo#satoru x reader#jjk fanfic#gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#satoru gojo#gojo satoru fluff
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windbreaker x reader - sakura, suo, sugishita, kiryu, ume + togame AS DADS 🤍🤌🏻
(warning - mentions of bio kids/birth/nursing + etc!)
HARUKA SAKURA - goes from the panicked dad to the dad who can handle five children at once...
His first year of parenthood is mainly... chaos. It's him struggling to change a diaper with less than six baby wipes. It's him going on patrol with spit up on his shirt. It's falling asleep as soon as his head his the pillow, barely any spare moments left in the day to spend with you without baby by your sides.
His third year of parenthood, however? His third year has him with two kids on his hip and one hanging off his back, all while he's in the kitchen warming up bottles and scrambling eggs for lunch with enough time once everyone's down for a nap for him to sneak you into your bedroom to spend a surprise hour under the sheets.
It doesn't matter if the kids are his or not, he runs his household like a preschool military... even if, at the end of the day, he can't tell you how he managed to do it. Sakura always knows where every kid is stationed in the house, what they're all doing and want to do next, and who needs a meal or a nap or anything in between. It's like he's psychic of sorts, because one kid could just be popping out of their bedroom and he'd already have their milk and afternoon snacks at the ready.
He's also a miracle at handling fights and spats, able to sit down every single child involved and help them talk it out before making them apologize. It's almost as though he was made to be a dad... if his main purpose on earth wasn't already... fighting people?
(It makes sense, though; he's grown to be such a peace keeper.
That being said, just because he can handle five kids at once doesn't mean they can handle him. He can really be Mr. Tough Love sometimes, especially to kids that aren't his own and don't yet know he means everything with love.)
(Also, he will jog around the neighborhood with a stroller lmao, or power walk with the youngest on his back. The neighborhood ladies LOVE him. Keep him locked up for his own safety. Eventual dilf.)
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HAYATO SUO - the dad to an extremely fussy baby...
Suo being the type of man that he is (and has always been)... you never would've guessed that one of the few things able to sway such an infallible man could be his very own baby.
That first year after your... very expressive... daughter is born is mostly spent with Suo in shambles. Neither of you are sure if it's just the lack of sleep and all the other emotions that come with being a first time dad that are making him so flustered when he can't figure out why she's crying or what she wants... or if your daughter really is just that powerful to have the almost-always-unfazed Suo so pissed at a piece of broccoli for simply existing under his daughter's nose.
Every patrol around town or date night or time spent without your daughter on his lap is time he spends PONDERING how he can master the whole... "being a good dad" thing. One of the few things he's not able to immediately master and pull off with grace.
He eentually gets the hang of it though, once his kids grow into their security and start acting just like him.
(For every kid you have, there's at least a year spent like this. No matter how much he's learned or how easy it becomes for him to read his children, it's like the process resets as soon another bugger shows up.
Of course, all his kids are born fussy because HE was a fussy baby. But don't tell him that.)
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KYOTARO SUGISHITA - the "go get my wallet" dad...
Like all the time he spent in Ume's garden during his youth, when Sugishita becomes a dad, the best way he knows how to spoil his girls is by investing every single spare moment of his time at their side... and heeding every. single. one of their requests.
As soon as they're old enough to walk (and no longer need him carrying them around everywhere, which he is devastated about, btw)... he's not only trailing behind them everywhere, but also insisting they get whatever their little hearts could desire.
...which sometimes means he's secretly pulling out his wallet and paying off the employee at the zoo to let them stay another hour after their tickets expire... and sometimes means he's coming home from the grocery store with three extra bags of snacks and four, brand new toys.
(This indulgence of his does not go away even as they age. If his daughters want a caviar bento every day for lunch, they're getting that caviar bento no matter what. No matter the cost. No matter the labor. And yes, before you ask, he makes their lunches too.)
Discipline also doesn't really exist for this guy, it's lowkey embarrassing because YOU WOULD THINK it would, wouldn't you?
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MITSUKI KIRYU - the dad whose kid ends up wearing mad drip to day care...
You know those memes that sometimes come around that are like... "hispter" or "swaggy" baby? Kiryu ends up with one of those, sort of... unintentionally, even if the outfits don't stop when you point out how much needless concern he has for his son's fashion.
(It's not even that he's trying to make your child is fashionable... it's just how naturally good he is at buying clothes; he always comes home from the department store with a whole ensemble rather than just the two or three pairs of shirts and pants you asked for.
It's a little... self-conscious-making, honestly... to walk into a preschool with the nicest dressed toddler in tow, wearing clothes even he doesn't care about, and that are obviously going to get dirty the second he starts playing in the dirt (which he does, practically the second you let go of his hand. He's a wanderer, lol.)
Not that Kiryu cares a thing about your baby making a mess in his specially chosen, mini flannel (not that I need to say so, but he does his share of laundry)... but when all the other kids are in regular leggings and Minecraft t-shirts... it's definitely sort of funny that yours wears baby converse and button-ups.
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HAJIME UMEMIYA - picture man dad…
Not only does Ume have pictures of all his kids happiest moments and biggest milestones, he has pictures of every second in between:
Pictures from between your legs of your baby literally being born, videos of the next one crowning. Pictures of your kid's first poop, or of their diaper rash from when he panicked and tried to emergency contact your doctor. Pictures from the first night they slept in their big kid beds, to pictures of their first (and worst) pimples.
He's lowkey (highkey) a vlog dad without the youtube channel; similarly, he also tries to record everything. Birthdays, sibling fashion shows, nighttime routines, wake-ups on holidays, fights, YOU NAME IT, he's pulling out his phone.
You honestly wouldn't think he does anything with the pictures but sometimes you find him asleep in bed just going through everything... he loves his kiddos that much <3
(He never forgets to take pictures of you both, either. Mostly you, but also some of the moments you're together, like your outfits or when you're on a date. He wants to be able to hold on to his memories forever, and give his kids something to remember you both by when they grow up.)
(Almost everyone has him muted on social media too except for Sugi lmaooo because he posts way. too. many. pictures and writes 500 word captions even over something as small as a lost tooth...)
(And lmao, he has at least one kid who is always ready to strike a pose, and in fact, does strike a pose whenever there's a camera out.)
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JO TOGAME - the most hands-on father who will NOT put his child down...
For Togame... fatherhood essentially turns him into a willing jungle gym... likely due to the fact that when your baby was first born, he happily took on the night feeds and changings and often fell asleep in the armchair right next their crib just waiting for the next time he could hold them...
But you know those dads you sometimes see out in public, who play with their kids the way they'd play with a monkey? No sooner than he's finally able to is he holding your child up on his shoulders or swinging them around by the ankles like a sack of potatoes every time they're together; causing you to have a heart attack whenever you witness it, and everyone in the general vicinity with a shitty partner to ask how you "got him to be so involved with raising with your kids."
(Of the two of you, he's actually the one who gets antsy when people who aren't close to either of you ask to see or touch the baby. He's the one who hovers cautiously when his cousins pester you about letting them have a turn holding the baby, or when another relative makes a joke about you hiding them from family when you just went off to nurse in private. He is Pissed and is not afraid to express that lmao.)
It's really a blessing and a curse... because on one hand it's sooo sweet to watch them together... but then on another, your child is just, if not more, clingy than him... and cries louder than any other kid in the room when Togame finally lets go of the hug on their first day of preschool.)
-
Thank you for reading!
#windbreaker x reader#jo togame x reader#haruka sakura x reader#hayato suo x reader#kiryu x reader#umemiya x reader#sugishita x reader#sakura#suo#togame#umemiya#kiryu#sugishita#kids tw#caitie post#gen#ask me about everyone individually and i will have even more for each of them lmao#anyway. sorry.
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Chaos Theory
[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: When Mike's crazy schedule finally aligns with one of the so-called "parental meetings" at Abby's school, he decides to see what it's all about. Little did he know he'd come to seriously regret that.
WC: 2,590
Category: Slight Fluff
I failed an exam today, so I wrote this to cheer myself up. I still feel pretty crappy, but this was really fun to write lol.
Also if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn’t.
『••✎••』
When it came to Abby’s school, Mike was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t go to any of the parental meetings, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was constantly doing something work-related during the time those meetings were scheduled.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on her grades and school attendance. It just meant he couldn't be there for the day-to-day things. Abby was a good kid, though; she never gave him trouble about the things he missed, and she did a pretty good job of keeping her grades up and attending all her classes.
Her teacher, you, was also very understanding of his schedule and position. He wasn’t sure how many teachers would have been as patient with him as you were. It was part of the reason he had grown fond of you, though it had been a gradual process that happened mostly unbeknownst to him.
At the beginning of the year, he had only been concerned about getting Abby acclimated to her new school. She was a quiet kid, stuck to her drawings, and it was even hard for him to get her to open up sometimes. Runs in the family, apparently. But, somehow, you were able to break down the wall that had been erected around her. Abby still didn't talk all that much, but she would always come back from school with a smile on her face. So, Mike was happy.
Then, like all good things, it came crashing down like a house of cards when his work schedule finally aligned with one of the “upcoming” meetings. This one was apparently a very big deal, and it was strongly implied to show up.
He hated these things despite never going to any before, but he just knew it would be filled with nosey people asking questions about his life. His sister. His “wife.”
God, he was already annoyed. The only saving grace was that it was the last meeting before the holiday break, so once it was over, he would be free for a while. Free to do what, exactly? Work, most likely, but a guy can dream.
The bell rang, signifying the end of the school day and the start of his personal nightmare. The door to the classroom was opened by one of the school's assistants, who held a clipboard in hand and waited for the “parents” to enter the room. He had arrived earlier than the scheduled time so he could speak to the assistant and find out what the meeting would entail, and already he knew it was a bad idea coming in here.
The woman was a nosy old biddy that was all too eager to learn the details of his and Abby's life.
He kept his answers short and clipped, but it did nothing to dissuade the woman. It got worse when he entered the classroom and saw the number of other parents who had shown up. He felt like an animal in a zoo; all the eyes followed his movements as he went to sit closest to the wall and away from the rest of the people.
The surrounding parents looked as though they lived in the next town over. They were clean-cut, hair styled perfectly, and clothes ironed. It was like they were trying to be a picture-perfect family.
He looked down at his own attire. His work boots were scuffed and dusty. His pants had a few grass stains from a recent job. His flannel shirt was buttoned wrong, and the sleeves were pushed up. Even his hair was a mess; he had tried to style it but didn't have much success, so he eventually gave up. The only thing going for him was that he had taken a shower before he left, so at least he didn't smell like sweat and grime.
As the meeting began, Mike had to try his best not to fall asleep. It was the typical teacher stuff. How the kids were doing. What the curriculum was for the following year. What their goals were. Blah, blah, blah.
Mike didn't care. He trusted you, and he knew his little sister was smart. She didn't need someone holding her hand and telling her what she was doing right or wrong. He knew this because he did that, and she didn't need it.
What did interest him, though, was the fact you kept looking his way. You didn't look at the others, and when you spoke, it was usually aimed toward them, but he saw the way you would look at him from the corner of your eye. He figured you were probably in shock that he actually showed up this time.
The meeting dragged on, and he was ready to leave. There were a few moments he had caught himself nodding off as he needed sleep, and this wasn't helping him. But then, like everything else in his life, the universe decided it was his time to suffer.
There was one woman who had sat at the front of the classroom. She wore her hair pulled back tight in a bun, her shirt was pressed, and her face was set in a permanent frown. He hated that lady; she reminded him of his good-for-nothing aunt who only wanted to criticize every choice he made.
The lady was also the mother of the most spoiled, brattiest child in the whole class. That damned kid had made it her life mission to torment Abby. He had come home more than once with her complaining about it, and when Mike had brought it up with you, you had told him that you had spoken with the parent.
That, of course, had done nothing. The child was an annoying pest, and he hated the way she treated Abby, but his sister had learned early on to deal with the bullying on her own. It didn't stop him from wanting to throttle the little shit, though.
The woman, the one who had started all his problems, took the opportunity to start a round of questioning. The first few were innocuous until they weren't.
"You seem to be a very patient woman." The woman had spoken to you, but her eyes were locked on him. "Is it a skill that was learned?"
The question itself was innocent enough, but the inflection and tone she used were meant to cut. He wasn't stupid. He knew she was alluding to something. It was always something, but he had to force himself not to say anything; the woman was a viper, and if he said something, she would attack without hesitation.
"I think anyone can be patient," You had responded diplomatically. "It's just a matter of the situation."
The woman didn't look happy with your answer, but she didn't pursue the line of questioning.
"Well, I couldn’t help but notice a certain someone who decided to finally drop in."
There it was. That was the opening.
Mike could tell you didn’t like the turn of conversation, and you were clearly trying to divert it elsewhere. It was no use, though. Mike could see the glint in the woman's eye as she prepared for the kill. She had a smile on her face, but her eyes were cold. "I was starting to think that Mr. Schmidt had abandoned his responsibilities. Wouldn’t be the first time someone in that family did such a thing."
He couldn’t help but have visions of his accidental mall incident from last year flash in his mind when he processed what the woman had said. He could easily hop over the desk and deck her right in the mouth. He had the muscle for it, and it was very tempting.
However, he would not.
If there was anything Mike had learned over the years, it was how to control his emotions, even if the situation was dire. The last time he had lost his cool, he ended up getting fired, but that was a long time ago… okay, not really, but the point was, he wouldn't make the same mistake again.
He wouldn't give the woman the satisfaction.
Mike leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over his knees, and looked the woman straight in the eyes. "That's funny. I could say the same thing about your kid."
"Excuse me?!" She hissed, and she seemed offended. Good. He hoped she was offended.
"Okay, okay." You intervened, hands up as if to placate the two of them. "Let's keep this civil, okay? The last thing we want is to be kicked out of the school for brawling. That's not beneficial for any of us." You then looked back at the woman. "Let's not bring personal matters into this."
"Personal matters?" The woman was appalled at your statement, and her voice was so loud in the quiet room. He could tell many of the other parents were looking at them now, and he felt the weight of their gazes on him. It only made his anger spike. "That monkey of his tried to bully mine for three months now, and she's never done anything."
Monkey? Monkey?! Oh, he was going to kill her. It was one thing to talk shit about him; he was used to that, but Abby? No. Absolutely not. His little sister was the best damn thing to come into his life. He wouldn't have it.
But before he could say something, before he could even get out of the chair, you had done something he would never have thought you would. You got up and went to your desk, then you returned, holding a paper. You held it up for all the parents to see.
"This is a drawing my students did a few weeks ago," you started, and he was surprised at the level of calmness you were exuding. "The assignment was for them to draw the thing they loved the most."
Hearing those words, Mike had a feeling what was coming next, but he wasn't going to say anything. It would be like tempting fate. Still, he watched as you grabbed one of the papers, and then you turned it around so he could see it. Abby had done the drawing, and it was not only of him but of everyone else in her class as well. She had even drawn you standing near her with a kind smile. It was the picture she had brought home from that field trip months ago. It was a nice picture. Really nice. He liked it, and he knew Abby was proud of it.
"I made copies of every drawing so the parents could see them," You continued as you held out the picture for everyone to see. "So, tell me, would a bully do this?"
Your voice had a bite to it now, and he could finally see just how angry you were. He was surprised at how much control you were exerting. The other parents, however, were shocked at your sudden display of emotion. Even the woman, who had looked as though she was ready to take you on herself, looked like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't know what to say. No one said anything. Even he was shocked by your sudden outburst.
You were normally such a mellow person. Understanding, even. Always ready to listen, always ready to understand. You were the one who was there to help when something went wrong. You were the person who everyone turned to. You were… nice. You were a kind person. You were—you were just like Abby. That's all he saw in you now. You were just like his sister. You were just like her. You had that same determination and that same look of knowing something that others didn't, but there was also something else. You were a fighter, too. It was just something he hadn't noticed until this very moment.
You weren't the nice teacher everyone thought you were. No, you were more. You were the person he knew his sister was becoming.
"And to answer your question from before," you continued, ignoring the growing outrage from the other parent. "I'm a very patient woman because I understand that not everyone has the same opportunities. Some of us have a responsibility to provide the basic necessities for our family, which can often lead to not being able to attend these types of meetings.”
You looked directly at the woman when you spoke the last part, and you did not look happy. At all. In fact, he was pretty sure that was a little vein on the side of your head.
"Not everyone can be at their best every moment. Not everyone is at their best all the time. Not everyone has the privilege to complain about things not going their way. So, while I am a very patient woman, I will not have any of this derogatory about my students and their guardians." The calmness in your voice was gone, and your voice was rising, and you had started pacing back and forth behind your desk as you spoke. "Because if there is one thing that I cannot stand, it's someone who criticizes others just to make themselves feel better."
You went on to speak about your experience with the woman's daughter, explaining that a meeting needed to be called upon to address the issues with the child. You didn't stop there, though. No, you also spoke about how she should have addressed the situation when it was first brought up and how that, in turn, impacted the rest of your class. You had even pointed out some of the other parent's children who had done the same thing.
Suddenly, this meeting wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.
It took a while, but once you finished your little speech, everyone had finally gotten over their shock and embarrassment. The meeting, as such, continued without incident, and by the time it was all said and done, Mike was ready to go home.
As he stood from his seat and made his way to the door, however, you stopped him. You had your bag in your hand and your coat on as well.
"I just wanted to—"
"You don't need to apologize," Mike cut you off. He didn't want an apology. He knew you weren't at fault here. In fact, he was surprised you took the time even to defend him. That didn't happen often. "I was expecting something like that to happen, but I appreciate you speaking up for Abby. She's got a good teacher."
He thought you would be embarrassed or even annoyed, but instead, your face lit up, and your cheeks turned red. "Oh, uh, well, it's my job. It was what I needed to do."
"Maybe, but you did it anyway. So, I appreciate it." He looked around the room and noticed everyone else had left. Even the nosy assistant had disappeared. He didn't know what to say, so he settled with saying the first thing that came to mind. "And hey, maybe next time you can tell them this is why I don't go to these meetings."
Your laugh was light, and you had a smile on your face. He liked the sound of it. He liked seeing it, too. He also liked the way it lit up your eyes. They had a beautiful color. So bright, so shiny. It was almost hypnotic.
"I'll consider it."
Mike wasn't sure how, but somehow, he knew you were telling the truth.
#mike schmidt#mike schmidt fanfic#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt x female!reader#fnaf#fnaf games#fnaf fic#fanfic#reader#x reader#fnaf movie#five nights at freddys movie#five nights at freddy's#josh hutcherson#michael schmidt x reader#fanfiction#abby schmidt#fnaf fandom#fnaf fanfic#william afton#mike afton#michael afton#fnaf x reader#fnaf x you#michael afton x reader#mike schmidt x y/n#fnaf x female reader#fluff#female! reader
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Unkuna for your Christmas drabble game? 🫣
ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: uncle!sukuna
"ji-chan... why are you looking at pictures of underwears?"
sukuna jolts upright from his place on the couch, dropping his cellphone into his lap in a belated effort to hide the device's screen from the pair of big, curious eyes peering over his shoulder.
"for the love of—" sukuna cuts himself off, whipping around in his seat to see his nephew clinging to the back of the sofa. "stop spyin' on me you little brat!"
"i wasn't spying on you!" yuuji protests, wiggling a little as he attempts to hold himself up off the ground by gripping the sofa cushions with all his might. "you just weren't paying attention to me because you were looking at underwears."
"first of all," sukuna holds a finger in his nephew's face "there's no 's' on the end of underwear." yuuji blinks owlishly, his eyes crossing a little as he stares at his uncle's outstretched finger. the elder then uses it to flick the little boy gently between his brows. "second of all... don't tell your dad you saw that."
"why were you looking at them anyway?" yuuji asks, clambering the rest of the way up the back of the sofa to flop himself down into his uncle's lap. sukuna grunts as the kid lands over his thighs, shifting to accommodate the new intrusion.
"i wasn't."
"were too!" yuuji argues and then laughs.
sukuna sighs, running a hand through his hair.
"i'm buying a present for my friend."
"you're buying your friend underwears?" yuuji blinks up at his uncle in confusion.
"i gotta..." sukuna cuts himself off with a groan. "i gotta buy a christmas present."
"for who?"
"for someone."
"who's someone?" yuuji asks, tugging on the front of his uncle's shirt insistently. sukuna's eyes roll upwards as he takes a deep breath to find the will to deal with this pint-sized annoyance.
"i already told ya,—"
sukuna attempts to pry yuuji's hand off his shirt and then tickles him when the kid's grip refuses to slacken. his efforts are successful and yuuji instinctively lets go of the material when his sides are threatened by his uncle's underhanded attack. he squirms away from his uncle with a giggle, and then takes a seat at his side.
"—it's for a friend."
yuuji's lips purse thoughtfully as he mulls over his uncle's statement.
"i've got friends," sukuna says warningly, sensing what yuuji is about to say.
"isn't that a weird present to give to your friend?" yuuji ignores his uncle's unprompted defense in favour of his own point.
it's sukuna's turn to purse his lips pensively now.
and... fuck, the kid's right.
yuuji slips from the sofa and returns to his previously occupied place at the kotatsu, picking up his green safety scissors to continue his momentarily paused craft. he's cutting snowflakes out of paper to decorate the apartment, though he hasn't quite mastered it yet and is mostly just cutting out variously lopsided triangles.
sukuna flops down face first on the couch with a groan, mulling over his nephew's (annoyingly accurate) point. he listens to the sound of yuuji's dull scissors slicing through paper for a few moments and then picks his head up to look at him.
"hey... what would you get your friend for christmas?"
"i don't get my friends presents for christmas, that's santa's job," yuuji says, looking over at his uncle with an expression that seems to say 'don't you know that?'
a throb of irritation blooms behind sukuna's eyes.
"then how do you know they don't want underwear?" he asks tersely, though his anger is largely misdirected considering yuuji is only six years old.
"because underwears are boring," yuuji says matter of factly. "that's why papa buys mine for me. let your friend's papa buy them underwears, that's their job."
sukuna's lips part for a moment to explain that your father certainly would not be buying you the underwear he has been looking at on his phone a few moments prior, but thinks better of it in the last second.
"what should i get them, then?" sukuna finally asks, his tone far more defeated than it had been a moment prior when he was arguing with the child before him.
"dunno!" yuuji exclaims, examining the 'snowflake' he'd just cut (another hack job.) "what kinda stuff do they like?"
that's the problem. sukuna has no idea what you like—at least not in the way that's gonna help him with his gift giving. he knows what makes you flustered, what makes you scream, but he hasn't the faintest idea about what makes you... happy.
"i know!" yuuji whips around to face his uncle with a look of clarity on his little face, his eyes lit up in excitement.
sukuna waits eagerly to hear his revelation.
"it's fushiguro's birthday next week, and i got him a super cool spiderman toy. wanna see it?"
sukuna flops down on the sofa again in defeat, all hope abandoning him.
yuuji seems offended by his uncle's lack of enthusiasm. "i bet your friend would like it too!"
"don't think so, brat."
yuuji gapes. "but everyone loves spiderman!"
"maybe everyone who's six," sukuna snorts. "my friend's a grown up."
"grown ups can like spiderman too, me and papa watch it together."
"your dad's just an oversized kid anyway," sukuna waves his hand dismissively as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling overhead.
yuuji laughs, setting about cutting out another horrifically terrible snowflake. "that's what he says about you!"
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Importance
pairings: dad!Chan x mom!reader
warnings: angst, fluff
summary: Having a child with an idol isn't easy...
author's note: I'm sorry that I couldn't post anything the last two weeks. But here I am with a new one!
Marriage wasn't easy. Especially when your beloved husband was an idol. The Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids.
Between tours and busy schedules, there was little time for your relationship. But even though it was hard and you missed him like hell when he was gone for a long time, you still didn't regret to come to your best friend Changbin's party years ago. There, you had met him.
Well, he didn't see you and accidentally poured his drink over you. When your eyes met, he was fascinated by your breathtaking beauty. Maybe it was destiny back then. It felt surreal, like he was your soulmate. The missing piece in in your heart and life.
Apologetic, he bought you a drink and after a wonderful night together, asked for your number.
Soon, he took you out on a date and there followed a second and a third, becoming a huge part in your life.
Without noticing, time passed and Chan proposed to you.
You immediately said yes and became Mrs. Bang.
The second you were married, your family asked when you both would begin to try for a baby but Chan and you wanted to wait some time before thinking about an addition to your family.
You still were young and Stray kids took much time and you understood that. Your job was also one of your top priorities and wanted to earn more money.
But it seemed that the universe had other plans with you two. Seven months after the wedding you started feeling sick. At first you brushed it off and thought that it is just a stomach bug or the stress due to work.
As the lovely but overly concerned husband that he is, Chan took you too a doctor to get a check up. Even though you found it a little bit overdramatic, he still insisted and the reason why you felt nauseous was soon found. You were indeed pregnant and already two months into pregnancy.
Sure, it wasn't planned but you and Chan felt excited to have a small addition to the family. And sooner or later it would have happend anyways.
Chan promised that when the pregnancy was farther along, he would take some time off and help you. You agreed to that and decided to work some more months too before you need to go into maternity leave.
The months passed fast and soon, you welcomed your newest family member. A girl. A sweet girl with already some black locks on her head and the same brown eyes that you fell in love with.
Chan was over the moon. Even though during labour, he was terrified. Would he be a good dad? But all these thoughts washed away when he saw the beautiful angel you both had created with your undying love.
He was the first one to hold her as her crying filled the room. Exhausted, you observed the picture in front of you. Your husband with his precious daughter that already looked like a smaller copy of him.
He was told to undress his shirt and to lay the little bundle of joy against his bare chest to help her breath and keeping her warmth while the doctor checked on you because you had lost a lot of blood during birth.
The first weeks were exhausting. Your little girl, Nari, held both of you awake most of the night. Yourself needed to heal and time to recover from the labor, so you relied mostly on your husband who took such good care for his girl. Fortunately, he got some weeks off to settle into parenthood before going back to the boys even though they nearly saw each other every day.
Since you got home from the hospital, four days after birth, they visited you to meet their 'little sister' as they called Nari. Oh lord, they were so smitten. The only one that seems not so sure about that little human was Seungmin but when he thought that nobody would watch, you catched him drawing circles over Nari's hands, smiling when she wrapped her hand around one of his fingers.
When Chan went back, the house was suddenly so empty. After weeks of being together 24/7, the sudden quiet was unfamiliar. In the mornings, Chan was already out, you loved to lay on the couch, your daughter on your chest, snuggling close to you while sleeping.
When Chan came back home in the evening, he greeted you with a kiss and immediately ran off to his daughter to tell her about his day even though she was already sleeping. You loved to observe him while cooking. You loved this little family. It was something that you ever wanted.
You really loved Nari. But after the pregnancy and early motherhood, you needed some space for yourself. You would love to spend an evening with your girls. Just making yourself look pretty and have fun without watching over a child.
Especially since you almost never leave the house except for some stroller walks and buying errands.
You asked your husband if he comes home some hours earlier so that you could enjoy your night. Immediately, he agreed and you were so grateful that he understood you.
On that day, you took your time with getting ready while your daughter slept. You hoped that Chan would be home soon so that you would be on time since you hated being late.
Minutes passed as you sat on the couch waiting for him. Minutes turned into half an hour and you wrote your girls that you would run a little late today. They were understanding.
More minutes passed and you waited already for a whole hour. You tried to call him since he was always so focused on his work so that he sometimes forgets the time.
He didn't pick up and you were already half an hour late. Your girls were already seated in your restaurant, waiting for you to show up so that they could start ordering food.
Sighing, you texted then that you couldn't make it and they shouldn't wait up on you. Frustrated, you cleared your face from the make up that was hours worth of work.
You took off the new dress that you had bought. You were so excited to wear it because it made you feel so pretty again after the pregnancy made you look bloated and your belly was still not the same then before.
You didn't know if you felt rage, sadness or disappointment that you needed to stay home because of your husband.
It wouldn't be so bad if it was the first time after he got back to work. He used to come back at a normal time to have some time with you and the baby. But as the weeks passed, he stayed later and got up earlier so that you saw him just for some minutes per day.
It was like you were all on your own here in your home. You knew from the beginning that Stray kids was really important to him but after entering parenthood you had hoped that he wouldn't stay till past midnight in the company.
You heard the key unlocking the front door and your husband finally decided to come home after he had promised you that he would be here three hours ago. He greeted you with a small peck on the forehead as you waited for him in the living room.
He looked so calm while dropping his bag to the ground and sitting down on the couch.
"Why are you standing there honey?" He asked. You crossed your arms. He didn't even remembered that this was supposed to be your night out.
"Why are you so late?" You tried to remain calm since your daughter slept in the neighbouring room.
"I was working on the newest song for stray kids" he explained.
"Oh really? Because you said you would be here hours ago" you didn't want to pick a fight. You hated fighting with him. It made your heart clench but this night was important to you.
"I'm sorry honey. But I needed to get it done"
"Well, I had plans for the night, Chan."
"Really? I'm sorry honey. I forgot and this song was important"
"The song was important? My reservation with the girls was important to me" you said and couldn't hold the calm tone that you wanted.
"I already said I'm sorry, Y/n. I got caught up in work" He grew annoyed.
"Like always. You're always so late that I wonder if you even remember that you have a family at home" You knew you were mean and unfair but all these things were twirling around your head for days.
"Of course I remember! I'm sorry that I make money for us" he exclaimed sarcastically. His voice loud, nearly shouting.
These words hurt you. He knew damn well that you aren't dependent on his money and that you make good money as well. Even though you currently took a maternity leave.
"Fuck you, Chan. You aren't the only one working. I was asking you for just one thing. Just being home a little earlier so that I could have some time for myself." You said loudly, your voice cracking in the middle as some tears stung in your eyes.
"Y/n. I-" he tried but you stopped him.
"Nari is your child too. Currently, I'm the only one she sees whether it's in the morning or in the evening. And I'm tired. Tired of being the only one raising her."
You heard cries from the other room. You must have woken up your sleeping daughter. Sighing, you excited the room and headed to Nari without waiting for an answer.
Chan knew that he went too far and that he was more away than home. And it pained him to not spend so much time with his daughter. Slowly he followed you to your daughter's room.
It was dimly lit and you sat in the rocking chair next to her crib with Nari in your arms, rocking her. He hated seeing her in distress and guilt crept up. He was a terrible father and an even more terrible husband.
You felt Chan's hot gaze on you. You knew that the guilt ate him alive right now. He couldn't fool you. Therefore you knew him too well.
After placing Nari back into her crib, giving her a light kiss on her soft skin that smelled so sweet like a baby. Your baby.
Then, you took Chan's hand and lead you outside to the kitchen, farther away from your daughter.
He just followed you, deep in thoughts.
"Y/n, I'm so sorry. I should have come early. And I know that parenting a child alone is difficult. I didn't want to lash out on you like that. I know that the meeting with your friends was important to you" he said and caressed your hand.
"I'm sorry too. It's obvious that you try to be around Nari as long and often as you can."
"No, you were right. I need to be here more. Especially with you both. I shouldn't let work take over so much" he said and pulled you into his arms.
His arms circled around your waist while yours travelled upwards into his fluffy locks. Exhausted he let his head fall on your shoulder, all the tension leaving his body.
"I love you Chan" you whispered.
"I love you too. You and Nari are the most important things in my life"
#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan imagines#stray kids#stray kids angst
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