#i miss that silly voice box

[alexcharmsyou]

i lost my voice and now i realize more than ever what a coping mechanism talking and making little noises is. being unable to yap and let out my constant mindless thought generator is so painful and clouding- sent me straight to the zombie adhd mode

[bratbby333]

choso kamo — the boy next door

synopsis you were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. but choso liked it that way. cw nsfw, stalking, somnophilia, voyeurism, overstimulation, dirty talk, cream pie wc 4.1k

author note i received three separate requests for pervy!choso, dom!choso, and boynextdoor!choso so i decided to combine them into one story to celebrate hitting 250 followers! eeek i love y'all so much, i hope this scratches the right itch in y'alls brains ♡ proofread and edited up by my favorite person in the known cosmos: @remlionheart *+:｡.｡ thank you for pushing me to finish this

Choso was a constant fixture in your life. For as long as you could remember, it was always you and him. His house neighbored yours and your families had become close over the past fifteen years. Your childhoods were intertwined, filled with joint pool parties, barbecues, and movie nights. The two of you even shared a babysitter when your parents would go out on double dates. You carpooled to school, played in the cul-de-sac until the streetlamps came on, snuck through each other's windows when your parents thought you were sleeping; inseparable. You guys even ended up at the same university after graduating high school. You were finally home for the summer and you couldn’t wait to spend time with your best friend, uninterrupted by the hecticness of college.

A brisk knock resonated through your home, the door answered by your mother. 

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you again,” Choso grinned, nodding gently as he stepped into your foyer. You perked up at the sound of his voice echoing through your house. It was difficult to see one another as much as you had wanted this semester; you both explored different hobbies and found separate friend groups while in college, but you always made sure to find the time. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, though; the stress of final exams kept the two of you apart. It had been far too long.

“How have you been, honey? How was your semester?” your mother chirped as she engulfed him in a quick embrace. The two of them shared genial words as they caught up with one another. They continued to chat before being interrupted by the heavy sounds of your excited feet thumping down the staircase. He turned to greet you, only to be entrapped in a bearhug, the momentum pushed his body into the wall behind him.

“Choso! Missed you so much,” you squealed, voice muffled as you buried your face into his chest. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne dancing through your nose. His cheek found the top of your head as his warm hands rubbed gentle circles into your back, rocking you side to side. Your mother smiled with adoration at the two of you. He squeezed you tight before he pulled away, peering down at you. You noticed a light dusting of pink that surfaced on his skin as you looked up at him, but chalked it up to the sweltered heat of summertime.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he replied before returning his gaze to your mother while still holding on to you. ”Exams were tough but I’m happy that it’s finally over,” he added.

His attention fell back to you as his hands rubbed against your arms, “But, I’m all yours for the summer!”

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You sat next to him on the floor, backs pressed against the foot of your bed. The two of you shared a pizza as a silly rom-com played on your TV. You took turns catching up on each other’s lives while the film faded into background noise. You felt renewed in his presence, the youthful glow of his features reminded you of how he was when he was younger. But your chest began to ache as you thought about how the time you spent with one another would become harder and harder to come by. The conversation lulled a bit, and you willed yourself to voice your concerns to Choso.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to how things were,” you blurted, hands fidgeting with the pizza box. Choso quirked his eyebrow at the statement. You met his gaze, smiling softly, bringing your knees to your chest. You sighed deeply. Being away from him hurt more than you thought it would, and you never recognized how much you needed him until you saw less of him.

“I miss being a kid…I miss the way we were,” you continued, “Not a single care in the world. I feel like the older we get, the less we’ll see each other. I don’t want that, Cho,” you mumbled, reextending your legs. His heart thrummed at your earnest confession as he leaned forward and captured your hand in his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere…I can promise you that, sweetheart,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. 

The conversation quieted, his words of consolation seemed to ease your mind enough for you to fixate on the screen. He watched you through his peripherals as you giggled at the corniness of the movie. Choso tried his hardest to follow along, but there you were, sat before him in a thin tank top and skimpy pajama shorts. He sent a silent “thank you” to the heavens; the record-high heatwave that plagued your city gifted him such a magnificent sight.

He side-eyed you, his vision tracing along your body. He took another bite of his pizza as he drank you in; dinner and a show. His vision followed every dip and curve of your almost fully exposed legs. He was thankful that you felt comfortable enough around him to dress how you pleased, but his dark heart wished you were sitting in just a thong, or better yet, fully nude. His eyes meandered north, hovering over the peaks of cleavage that your shirt didn’t cover. He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on his food when another giggle erupted from you, your breasts bouncing as you laughed.

He smiled inwardly, your fear of losing him warmed his heart. He wasn’t going anywhere. How else would he be able to see you like this; all nostalgic for him, the desperate expression on your face sent waves of arousal through his veins. His desire to know how you’d look splayed out underneath him rocketed through his body as he envisioned your fucked out face when he feathered hot, wet kisses along your neck and plunged two thick fingers deep inside you…how pretty you’d look just for him. What sounds would you make when his throbbing cock was fully enveloped in your gushy walls? Would you whimper and whine? Would you cry out for him? Rake your nails down his torso with your eyes blown wide? He so badly craved the answers to his searing questions.

Your laughter panged through his chest, snapping him out of his trance. You were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. But he liked it that way. You continued to sit so good for him, eyes casted toward the TV. If only you knew the innocent relationship you had manifested in that sweet little mind of yours was one-sided. For him, it was dirty–downright filthy and sinful. But you would never know that.

Blood rushed between his legs as he shifted on the floor. The movie had about twenty minutes left; he was trying to hold out until then. He was desperate for release, anxiously anticipating the thick load he would shoot out at the thought of you, though he would pretend that it was going inside of you, instead. Oh, how he wanted to breed you. How soft you’d look carrying his spawn. He shook his head as he cleared his throat, single handedly fighting off every demon known to man that was telling him to pounce on you. He couldn’t. It would ruin the close friendship that took years to curate. It would kick him off the pedestal you placed him so highly on, tarnish the clean-cut version of him in your parent’s mind. He battled with his own thoughts as he mindlessly stared at the TV. 

The end credits rolled and Choso stood abruptly.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Gotta get some sleep,” he said, readjusting his pants. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your pretty face.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you pouted, before pushing yourself off the ground.

“I know…I’m sorry, sweetheart. But knowing us, we’d stay up all night watching TV and talking instead of actually sleeping,” he played off. The ache between his legs intensified at the thought of sharing a bed with you like you usually did when he slept over. But he can’t. Not tonight…not like this. Normally he was good about keeping his composure, but tonight was different. Your puppy dog eyes didn’t help, either. He so badly wanted to see those same eyes gaze up at him while his cock was shoved down your throat. His dick pulsated against the soft fabric of his shorts as he shadowed you toward your bedroom door, taking an internal note of how good your ass looked as your shorts rode up between your plush cheeks. He nearly lost it as you skipped down the stairs, your precious mounds bouncing in all the right places. You opened the front door for him, spreading your arms to hug him goodbye. He opted for a side hug, knowing damn well you would have been able to feel his hard on from the full-frontal contact. 

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You closed the door, pressing your back against it as you wondered what had gotten into Choso this evening. He was always up for a sleepover. You shoved your hurt down, embarrassed by your apparent clinginess. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought of your neediness pushing him away. Your warm body glided toward the fridge, throwing it open and basking in the cool air as you grabbed yourself a drink. You shook the shame from your mind as you shuffled back up the stairs. You peered out your window and into Choso's room; it was dark. He must’ve gone straight to bed. You opened the bay windows to your bedroom. The cool air danced through the panes, swirling around the confines of your dwelling. You inhaled deeply before stripping down, settling peacefully atop your sheets; it was far too warm to be under the covers.  

Choso surveyed you from the comforting shadows of his room. He did this frequently before the two of you had moved away, watching you get ready for bed with a firm grip on his shaft. 

“That’s it, pretty…take it all off f’me,” he muttered. His strokes sped up as he watched you undress, the moonlight that seeped into your room illuminated your heavenly body so perfectly. He huffed as he watched you retreat to your bed, his hand stilling around his cock. The thought of you wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed you.

An hour or so passed before he ascended the tree that stood tall next to your window. His clammy hands gripped the railings that lined your small terrace as he heaved his body over, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before, whether his presence was expected or unbeknownst to you. He crept through the open window and entered your room, settling himself in the chair next to your bed. Your nude frame emanated the most ethereal energy, your bare chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft gasps that fluttered from your parted lips sent blood straight to Choso’s groin. He palmed himself through his pants, leaning back a bit to shove them down his legs. His hand paced up and down his length agonizingly slow, before he stopped dead in his tracks as soft groans emerged from your throat.

“-oso,” was all that was audible. His blood ran cold as he leaned closer to your slumbered body, ears ringing in hopes to hear more. Was that–No…it couldn’t have been. You shifted a bit, another moan breaking through the silence of your room.

“Mmm…Choso,” you whimpered dreamily, one hand moving to rest just under your navel. His heart rate spiked. He watched as your hand traced lower, snaking its way to your precious cunt. You rubbed sleepy circles in your clit as your head lulled to the side, soft, sweet whimpers dancing from your parted lips. It was now or never. He pulled his shorts back up as he situated himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your shoulder. 

You stirred a bit after a few gentle shakes of your body, your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Your body went rigid as your eyes focused on the outline of a person sitting before you, but the familiar smell of Choso met your nose and kept you from jumping out of your skin. You closed your eyes again, the hand that was playing with your wet cunt moved over your body to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Choso nearly broke down at the contact, the stickiness that he so badly needed graced his skin, numbing his brain. 

“Hey, Cho…y’scared me. Thought you weren’t sleeping over,” you murmured. Choso’s conscious worked overtime to keep his composure leveled as he exhaled deeply. 

“Seems like you needed me, though,” he chuckled. You hummed in response, your sleep-ridden mind not registering his comment. You began to doze off once again before panic rumbled through your body as you finally recollected the dream you were just immersed in. Then the realization hit. You shot upright, tearing your hand away from Choso as you grabbed for the covers, attempting to shield your naked body from him. You clicked on your bedside lamp, turning to Choso with your brows furrowed deeply. Your best friend just caught you in the middle of a wet dream. A dream about him. Embarrassment coupled with shame as you held the sheets tight against your body. You were thoroughly confused–what was he even doing here? How much did he hear? You wanted to protest, to plead your case, to interrogate him. A million questions buzzed around your brain, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he soothed. He kicked his shoes off and kneeled beside you, hand still firm against your face. Your shoulders were tense, but you relaxed a bit at the baritone voice that fell from his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?” His question seemed rhetorical. He felt your face flush underneath his palm as you nodded slowly. He removed his hand and you spoke up immediately.

“How’d you know I–”

“Was watching you sleep,” he shrugged. “I’ve wanted you for so long…figured it was a lost cause. But it seems the feelings are mutual, huh, sweetheart?” he cooed, his body loomed over yours as his palm brushed your face, cradling your cheek.

“You were tryin’ so hard to fight it…to pretend those dirty feelings for me didn’t exist…isn’t that right?” He mused. You glanced down at his crotch, the heavy bulge pressed firm against his thin shorts. You audibly gulped, your breath caught in your throat before meeting his eyes. You nodded at him again.

“Bet you dressed like that on purpose…such a tease,” he chastised, thumbing your cheek.

“Gotta make up for lost time, yeah?” He ripped the duvet off of you and moved so he was hovering over you, your body laid out underneath him, his arms placed on either side of your head. 

“Cho…I—we shouldn’t,” your voice wavered, suddenly unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders. “I don’t wanna lose you…don’t wanna ruin what we have,” you added, worry painted across your face, eyes fluttering back and forth between his. You were splayed out beneath him, fully nude, every dark secret of yours laid out in front of Choso. The hungry look in his eyes caused your arousal to drip onto the sheets beneath you. 

“Wanted this for years, pretty girl. I already told you I’m not goin’ anywhere,'' his head dipped down to lick a thick stripe down your neck. “You gonna let me take care of you now?” he questioned, lips pressed against your flesh, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched immediately at the sensation. You moaned softly in response as you ran your hands up and down his toned back. 

“Tell me, pretty girl,” his fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin around your core. “Tell me you want me as much as I’ve wanted you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“W-want you…Cho. So bad…needed you for s-so long,” you begged, your brain fogged and voice airy while your hands clawed desperately at his back. He smirked at you as he sat back on his heels, tearing his clothes from his body. Your eyes dragged up and down the man you had grown up with. A part of you knew how you felt about him, knew how much you needed him. But you didn’t understand the full depth of that need until he was kneeled before you, perspiration glistening along his toned body as he repositioned, laying himself along the bed, his face settled right above your dripping cunt. The way he looked at you through his luscious, jet-black lashes set your pounding heart ablaze. 

You couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. All you could feel were the sharp aches in your core as he teasingly ran his fingers through your slit. He smiled against your thigh as he plunged his fingers in immediately. You gasped at the intrusion before succumbing to the pleasure as the pads of his fingers massaged your sweet spot.

There was a sense of urgency behind his movements; the lack of time he gave you to adjust to the stretch, the way he was thrusting so fervently into you and how hungrily he bit at your flesh–it was overwhelming. He pumped into you, tirelessly working to coax an orgasm out of you. The first of many. He tilted his head down to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. He used his other hand to rub your sensitive clit, before quickly replacing it with his tongue. He wanted to drink you in for as long as he could, your juices satiating the hungriest part of him.  

His eyes blew wide, “Fuck–you’re so sweet, pretty girl,” he breathed, lapping at your core. He needed more, needed you to fall apart on all of him–his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You were going to take everything he gave you. You cried out for him, your hips spasming against the bed. He grinned before latching back on to your clit, sucking harshly, working into you like it was his life’s mission to please you. And in his mind, it was. He was set on releasing a decade’s worth of pent-up frustration on your pretty little body.

“F-fuck Cho–ah!–I’m gonna…” your voice trailed off as your pussy clenched down on his fingers. He groaned at the tightness, tongue still swirling around your sensitive bud. A shudder ran down your spine as your orgasm ripped through your body. He continued to pump into you, suckling harshly against your clit before swirling around your entrance to ensure he drank up every drop. 

He knew he should wait and give you time to recover. But the way your body twitched and writhed for him ripped away the sense of gentleness and morality that he usually had. It was all too much. He wanted to ruin you, to punish you for holding out on him for so long. He needed to be balls deep, needed to mold you around his cock–he had waited years for this. He sat up abruptly, wrapping your shaking legs around his waist as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. Your chest heaved and your eyelids grew heavy while your body worked through the comedown. He pushed into you, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating walls. Your eyes widened while your hands pushed against his abdomen. 

“Wait, Cho–”

“S’okay, sweet girl. I got you…focus on me,” he soothed, his pelvis flush against you as he took a hold of your wrists, pushing them over your head and pressing them against the headboard. He found an unrelenting tempo in you. You body spasmed and squirmed at his pace, jolting each time his thick cock brushed against your still sensitive g-spot. He was stuffed so deep inside of you, savoring the way your messy pussy sucked him in. He released your hands and leaned back, finding his bearings on your hip bones, pulling you toward him to meet his thrusts. Grunts rumbled from deep in his chest as he felt you clench around him. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, the squelching sounds and labored moans that filled the room made him choke.

“Nasty fuckin’ girl…you’re lovin’ this aren’t ya?” he teased. You couldn’t fathom a response. Your body had passed the point of overstimulation as his brutal pace pulled another earth-shattering orgasm from your wrecked body, painting his abdomen with your squirt. He dropped his head back, animalistic sounds flying past his lips as the warm spray splattered onto his skin. He pulled out of you before shoving right back in. You cried out, body trying to squirm out of grasp.

“C-can’t…s’too much,” you sobbed out. You meant it, it was too much. But the pleasure that clawed its way through your trembling frame was unreal; addictive, even. He simultaneously numbed your body and made you feel every sensation in the known universe. 

“Uh uh…almost done, pretty–stay right there,” he growled, “Just give me one more.” He wanted to live in this moment forever. Every stolen glance, dirty thought, and shameful ejaculation to the thought of you was nothing compared to the way your pretty little pussy clenched around him. He had ached over the mere thought of you for years and his body brimmed with arousal at his darkest dreams coming to fruition. And though he wanted to paint your sloppy walls with his thick seed, the wanton desire for you overpowered his need for release.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as your shaking hands searched for any part of him to hold on to. You were a panting mess, fat tears running down your face. And it was all for him. He was drunk on the way your fucked out face lazily looked up at him as you fell apart on his cock. He made quick work of burning that image on the inside of his eyelids.

“Doin’ so good. Stay with me, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips slamming into you. It was so sloppy now…so nasty. He fucked into you with feverish passion, and your body shook as the coils in your tummy crept up once again. 

“C’mon…just one more. Know you can do it,” he urged, his aching cock absolutely obliterating you. His fingertips gripped your flesh so tightly, he prayed it would bruise. He hoped his mark would be left on you, an aching reminder that you belonged to him. You always had. He fucked into you, his tip kissing your cervix so perfectly. You cried out, clenching down on him again, your third orgasm crashing through you in a blinding haze. 

“S-shit…so good. God–you’re fuckin’ milking me,” he growled out as he twitched inside, swears and praises cascaded from his parted lips as he chased his own release. It only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered against you and he finished deep inside, pumping you full of his cum. He remained sheathed within your walls, his palms running up and down your dazed out frame.

He leaned down, catching your lips in a needy, wet kiss. You were stunned into silence, your body cemented to the bed, convinced that you had lucidly dreamed this entire ordeal. You winced at the ache of Choso finally pulling out, missing the deep stretch of his cock as he leaned over to scour your drawers for a rag to clean you up. He feathered gentle kisses after each pass of the cloth. He laid by your side and you curled into him immediately, his arms snaking around your fragile body. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whispered, breath shaking. He smiled before kissing the top of your head. “But I’m so happy it did,” you added, pressing yourself deeper into his side as his fingers brushed along your skin, soothing you toward a deep, satisfying slumber. Choso reveled in the dream-like trance he found himself in. His heart soared at his achievement that was years in the making, his body crossing the line that divided reality with heaven. He finally got you, and he was never, ever letting you go.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

author notes: thank you so so so much for 250 followers...i literally cannot believe it. if i could remove a piece of my heart and send it to y'all i would

my inbox is open and i'm always working thru my requests, feel free to send your suggestions here ☾

every like, comment, and reblog makes me sob uncontrollably...your support means the world to me xx

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[wheres-mylove]

puppy love - modern!cregan stark x fem!reader

Summary: Searching for peace in a quiet town takes an unexpected turn when your neighbor’s dog decides you have to be his new best friend. One look at the neighbor and you’re totally fine with getting a two-for-one deal.

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.5k

A large painting of a wolf pack hung over the fireplace. (Y/N) stared at it, biting her lip.  

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to light the damn fire.

Was this whole thing a bad idea? Trading in her modern King’s Landing studio for a tiny house in Winterfell? A big city girl in a small town. Yeah, she might’ve officially lost her mind.

“I hope it’s to your liking, dear,” came the sharp but grounding voice of Mrs. Glover, snapping her back to reality. The elderly landlady was already fastening her fur coat.

“It’s... cozy,” she replied with her best smile. Didn’t want to admit to herself that she was feeling wildly out of place.

“Good.” Mrs. Glover nodded, satisfied. “Now, remember, once the snow hits, you’ll need to keep that fireplace going. Northern frost is a bitch.” She placed the house keys on the small wooden table. “Rent’s due by the tenth.”

“I’ll remember,” (Y/N) said quickly. “Thanks again for lowering the price.”

Mrs. Glover waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t even mention it. I’m in a hurry to get to Essos, and these silly umbrella cocktails are calling my name.”

The old woman paused at the door. “You sure you can handle moving everything in on your own? I have to head out, but the Stark boy lives just across the street. Strong lad, good arms, I’m telling ya. Handsome, too. He’d help, if you ask nicely.” She winked. “If I were only a few decades younger…”

“All good, ma’am,” (Y/N) cut in, her face heating up. “I don’t have much. A few boxes, really.”

“Well, if you say so, Miss Independent. Good luck!”

With that, Mrs. Glover disappeared with a screech of tires in her flaming red car, leaving (Y/N) standing alone in front of her new home.  

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She could absolutely do this. She’d unpack before sundown, get settled, and everything would be fine. Better than fine, even. This place was going to be a fresh start. An escape from the Big Disaster, also known as her last relationship.

She’d find the meaning of life in the wild North or however that saying went.

She was currently standing in front of her open trunk, debating what to take first. And then something licked her hand.

Slowly, she turned her head, still not fully registering what was happening, and met the gaze of big brown eyes belonging to a fluffy creature as black as the night. A light pink tongue paused halfway, as if waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered, frozen in place. “Are you a dog or a wolf? Please, be a dog. A friendly one.”

Her new friend barked in response and rolled onto its back in the universal gesture of please love me.

“You’re a dog,” she sighed in relief, dropping to her knees to give him a good belly rub. “A boy, huh? A beautiful one. But where did you come from?”

Animals don’t talk apparently. The girl glanced around instead. She’d left the gate open, sure, but he had to come from somewhere.

The dog let out a low grumble, tail thumping against the ground. She scratched his head, laughing softly. After a few minutes, he got up, shook off the dust, and placed one paw on her car.

“I’m moving into this house,” she informed him, picking up one of the smaller boxes from the trunk. She liked talking to pets, even though they couldn’t offer much in the way of conversation. “I’ve got a lot to do, but after that, we could—”

And just like that, the dog vanished as suddenly as he’d appeared. (Y/N) stood there, blinking at the empty yard.

“Bye?” she called out, shaking her head in disbelief. He probably went home.

She continued unpacking, but on her third trip to the car, she saw him again, this time with a tennis ball clamped between his teeth. He had so much hope in his eyes.

“Do you want to play?” she asked, amused. The moment she said the magic word, his ears perked up in excitement. “Where are you even from?”

She should have been unpacking. She knew that. But how could she say no to a cutie like him?

“Good boy!” (Y/N) laughed as the dog leapt into the air and caught the ball in his mouth, mid-throw.

“Excuse me, is he harassing you, lady?” she suddenly heard a low, masculine voice behind her.

The dog dropped the ball from his mouth, adopting a tragic, martyr-like expression.

She spun around, heart pounding, and found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like a classic Northern lord from the past. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wild hair and a beard that framed a strong jaw. He had these gray eyes that were both piercing and soft.

“He’s mine,” the stranger explained with a half-smile, clearly catching her staring.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to steal him, just so you know” (Y/N) finally spoke up, cheeks flushing. “He just... showed up. With the ball. So, I thought…”

Her awkward explanation was interrupted by his laugh, loud and kind.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were kidnapping him,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I was just making sure he wasn’t bothering you. He must’ve jumped the fence. I saw you two from across the street.”

Ah. The young Stark. 

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, finally getting her words in order. “He’s well-behaved. What’s his name?”

The dark cloud of fur came closer and laid at her feet, cementing their new alliance.

The man hesitated for a moment. (Y/N) looked at him expectantly.

“Frosty,” he finally mumbled, looking at the ground.

It was the girl’s turn to laugh.

“You named this huge black wolf-ass looking creature Frosty?” she asked, scratching the dog behind his ears. He was absolutely delighted.

“He likes the cold,” Stark offered with a small shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you are…?”

“(Y/N). I’d shake your hand, but I’m doing something important. Nice to meet you though.” 

“Cregan,” he said, placing a hand over his heart with a grin. “Nice to meet you too. Frosty’s obviously on cloud nine. He’s usually not that trusting. Friendly with other dogs, sure, but picky with people. You must be special.”

Her heart swelled at those words. What an honor.

“He’s my first friend in Winterfell.”

Cregan smiled and looked at her car, noticing the boxes still inside.

“So, renting from Mrs. Glover?”

“Yeah, I just moved in from King’s Landing today.”

“City girl, yeah?” He whistled, leaning against the side of the car with a thoughtful look. “You’ve come a long way. But hey, I’m not complaining. We’re neighbors now. I live across the street.”

(Y/N) flashed a smile. “I’m not complaining either.”

“Please feel welcome to ask if you ever need anything. I’ll give you my number, just in case.”

Smooth, Cregan, smooth.

Rolling up his sleeves, Cregan walked over and hefted the biggest box out of the trunk like it was nothing.

“Now, let’s help you with that.”

That old hag was right. He had good arms.

The Northern frost was, indeed, a bitch.

But the warmth of the fire, the soft couch beneath her, and Frosty’s massive, fluffy body draped across her lap made the afternoon bearable. (Y/N)’s hand had long since gone numb from petting the dog, but his fur was addictive.

Her phone suddenly rang, breaking the peace. Frosty, naturally, didn’t move a bit. Not even a nuclear explosion could wake him.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached for her phone on the table, already knowing who it was. 

Helaena Targaryen.

“How’s the grass-touching and vet-seducing going?” came Helaena’s voice, sugary sweet and teasing, before she even had a chance to say hello.

“First of all, the grass is frozen solid,” she shot back, shifting slightly to keep her lap from completely losing circulation. “And second, again. There is no seducing happening.”

“Sure, smarty-pants. And you’re totally not babysitting his dog right now.”

“I mean,” the girl sighed with a reluctant smile. “said dog kind of invited himself here. And Cregan gave him a backpack full of snacks and toys, like he was dropping him off at daycare.”

He had also scolded him earlier for having dirty paws, saying that’s not how he raised him. The dog liked her, and she liked both him and his owner. Cregan turned out to be a veterinarian with a small clinic in town. He was working late today, so she had offered to look after his friend. Home office benefits.

Hel snorted loudly on the other end. “Oh my god, he’s ridiculous. I love it. By the way, I did a tarot reading for you,” she announced, suddenly taking on a serious and spiritual tone. “The message is clear. Go after Cregan, let him chop wood and start the fire in your—”

(Y/N) groaned, facepalming. “You’ve got to stop. I’m not ready for this. And he’s just kind.”

“Kind of having a crush on you. You’re still hurting after that Gwayne situation, aren’t you?”

The mention of his name made her feel sick. “It’s not about him. I’m just... done with dating for a while.”

“Well, he was a moron,” Helaena said bluntly, her tone shifting from teasing to fierce in a heartbeat. “For the record, we all stopped talking to him. Aemond wanted to beat him up, but I told him karma would do the job.”

(Y/N) winced, though she appreciated Targaryens’ loyalty. “I’m tired of men.”

“You’re not tired of men,” Helaena corrected her. “You’re tired of idiots. Is Cregan an idiot?”

She knew he wasn’t.

“Hey, if you don’t make a move, I will.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Kidding. But please, please, for the love of gods, make him chop some wood for you.”

A strange noise woke her up.

It sounded like something was scratching at the front door. (Y/N) rubbed her eyes, groaning as she crawled out from under the warm blanket. A quick glance at the digital clock. 5:58 a.m. The sun hadn’t even thought about rising yet. The scratching persisted.

“If this is some kind of monster, I swear I’m not in the mood,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep. Then came a familiar bark, and she frowned.

Frosty?

She cracked the door open, and sure enough, there on the porch stood Cregan’s dog, barely visible in the early morning gloom. Frosty barked again, hopped down the steps, and turned to look at her expectantly.

He wanted her to follow him.

“Hold on, buddy, let me grab my shoes,” she promised, her voice a mix of anxiety and sleepiness. She hurriedly slipped on her shoes, her mind racing. What if something had happened to Cregan? Was this a “dog leads the way to an emergency” situation? With a quick grab of her hoodie, she went after the dog. Frosty kept looking back at her to make sure she was keeping up.

In no time, they arrived at Cregan’s house. The door was slightly ajar, and her heart raced as she stepped inside.

“Cregan?” she called out hesitantly.

“Yeah?” came his voice from the right, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Cregan Stark stood by the kitchen counter, looking mildly confused with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was clad only in gray sweatpants, the silver wolf pendant around his neck glinting in the soft light.

“Are you okay?” she blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

“Feeling great. Want some coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

(Y/N) pulled out a chair and plopped down, staring at Frosty, who was wagging his tail like he had just saved the day.

“Am I a joke to you?” Frosty tilted his head, giving her an innocent look. "He came to my door like some heroic rescue dog. I thought—” She sighed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I thought something had happened to you. I figured you’d, I don’t know, passed out or something. I’m pretty sure I just aged ten years.”

Cregan cast a side glance at Frosty, lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face. "Frosty, man, what’s the deal?” he asked the dog, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny.”

“You really got that worried?” 

“Yes! And here you are, in perfect shape. Alive,” she muttered, her eyes trailing over his very much alive form, pausing on his very defined abs. “And half-naked. I might cry.”

That did it—Cregan turned away quickly, but she saw the grin he was trying to hide as he moved to make her coffee.

“Should I put on a shirt?” he asked, a little more serious now, glancing back over his shoulder. “If it bothers you.”

“No, you’ve got some nice muscles on your back,” she blurted out without thinking. Frosty rested his head on her knee, looking up at her with his big eyes. “And you,” she added, giving the dog a playful glare, “are lucky you’re cute.”

Cregan placed the mug in front of her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smirk.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she replied, feeling the tension melt a little.

Cregan sat across from her, watching her for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You look good,” he said finally, sounding genuine. “Want some breakfast?”

Suddenly, it hit her. She was here, no makeup, hair a mess, and still in her pajama pants. She cringed, remembering her earlier comment about his fucking back.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” she mumbled, suddenly self-conscious.

“Dinner, then? Later. With me. I know a place. If you’d like, of course,” Cregan suggested quickly, his tone slightly tentative.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. Was he... blushing?

“Are you asking me out?”

He let out a soft laugh. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since the first time I saw you. Not sure if you noticed,” he admitted. Just then, Frosty went up to him and nudged the owner’s hand with his nose. “Oh, great, emotional support,” Cregan muttered, scratching the dog’s head affectionately.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he echoed, hopeful.

“Yes,” she affirmed, her heart racing. “Just let me know what time, and I’ll dress up.”

He flashed her that charming grin, but then his expression shifted. “I’ve got an appointment with a chihuahua that bites people. I’m actually not sure if I’m gonna make it.”

She liked him so much.

“Do you think it’d be alright if I kissed you before the date, Cregan?” 

“Oh, please do,” Stark replied, voice and expression desperate.

Without overthinking it, she ended up sitting on his lap, being kissed like there was no tomorrow. Held by the strongest pair of arms that were also so gentle.

Frosty placed an approving paw on Cregan’s leg.

Well done, human.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE THINGS YOU DO FOR LOVE... ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

[kykyonthemoon]

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

[sleepyangelkami]

PERVERTED II c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.5K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - carl decides to go through with this weeks saturday sleepover. so far, he's been able to control himself. until, that is, he hears you whimper his name in your sleep.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, slight angst, somnophilia, thigh riding (kinda), fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, wet dreams, sex dreams, innocence kink, corruption kink, dom!carl, sub!reader, noncon, heavy manipulation, use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

"you sure you don't wanna come?" rick questioned as he took a box from his son, landing it inside the back of the truck. "we could use the help."

carl watched his dad place a hand on his hip before shaking his head, hand on his hat. "no, i promised y/n i'd stay over. can't miss saturday sleepover can i?" he'd laughed yet he knew he wouldn't wish to miss it for the world, either. rick gave him a look, lips slightly perking up as if he knew something. "what?"

rick wasn't born yesterday either. he was well aware what it was like to have a silly crush, especially at that age. but this... this was much different. "nothin'" before packing in the last box. "you be good, alright? don't ruin the house while glenn and maggie are gone."

the two were going on the supply run with him, along with many more of the fighters. "bye, dad." watching him get into the rusted car.

and so, the day went on.

by the time lunch rolled around, carl still hadn't seen you. however, he wasn't entirely alone. he soon found ron who decided to help him look for you. in return, you'd also be looking for his also missing girlfriend, enid.

"they're always running off." ron muttered under his breath. he knew enid was close with you, possibly your best friend had carl not been thrown into the mix. enid was always running off with you, slinging you around by the arm. "hey, what's the deal with you two anyway?" carl's head peeked up, brows knitting together. "is she like your girlfriend or something?"

his mind moved like puzzle pieces. girlfriend. carl had never had a girlfriend before but he was pretty sure you had to kiss and all that to actually be in a relationship. then again, you don't touch yourself with your 'friend's panties sitting on your dick. he cleared his throat. "no... no we're not together."

saying you were his friend didn't seem all too right but saying you weren't his girlfriend didn't seem right either. you were something.

but ron didn't look convinced, rolling his eyes with his brows raising slightly. "whatever, dude." was it really all that obvious to everyone aside from you? carl thought that if there was a competition on the most oblivious person alive, you'd win.

but perhaps that was the easier option. would he have preferred you to know? everything seemed so easy with the fact that you were so oblivious. it was like a reminder that he could do anything he wanted right under your nose.

"finally." hearing the mutter from ron, carl looked up. this was when he was met with the sight of you, as pretty as ever, sat next to enid on a bench near the town's pond.

carl could barely look at you. the way you sat with your legs folded, smiling away innocently, completely unaware of what he'd done last night. you wore a pretty skirt, enough to slightly hike up your legs, giving carl a view of the pretty plush of your thighs.

he could only imagine digging his hands around the plush, holding it and kneeding the skin. he could only imagine grasping your thighs, holding them close while he rammed his di―

"there you guys are!" ron exclaimed causing carl to shake his head, ridding himself of the thoughts he'd been having. "carl and i were looking all over for you." he had this voice he used when he spoke to girls, one that carl could guarantee was not the voice he used with him.

enid only rolled her eyes. the sight of her boyfriend and carl was enough to have her smile drop. "well, we weren't looking for you." she mumbled. some may say she didn't like anyone aside from you, not even her own boyfriend. carl didn't think there was much of a point of being with someone that you didn't even like. "hence the getaway pond."

ron must have thought she was joking because he came up to pinch her side and kiss her cheek. the sight alone had carl's stomach turning.

however, the sweet sound of your lulling voice was enough to bring him back. "hi, carl." you beamed at him, smile as wide as ever. he hadn't even registered you moving from the bench to his side. all he remembered was the feeling of you snaking in next to him, your body so close. suddenly, he felt so dirty. "we were feeding the ducks." smiling like a child on christmas. you always smiled like that, like you had a thousand things to be smiling about. it always made carl wonder if you were truly made for this world at all.

when he was around you, he was fighting off his own smile. yours was so contagious. the way his lips curved upwards told you he was happy for you, he always was. "that's great ba― y/n." correcting himself as his expression faltered, smile wavering.

he watched as your entire face fell.

he was unable to bring himself to call you those cute names. baby, sweetheart, like an old couple who'd spent their entire lives together. he couldn't bring himself to say such things after he imagined himself fucking you just the night before. it didn't seem right, not when you were so oblivious to the dirtiness behind his words.

the smile wiped clean from your face, carl was sure you could have cried.

you reminded him somewhat of a kicked puppy.

he'd been the one to kick you.

he never called you y/n, unless speaking to someone else like his father or even ron. this was because they'd hardly understand who you were if he was referring to you as sweetheart.

the point was, he only used your name if it was wholeheartedly necessary.

you wondered what'd changed.

your mind ran back to the night before. when he'd entered your house, looking awfully suspicious and at the sight of you, he practically rushed out the door. had you done something wrong? your heart ached at the idea that you may have upset him. a heart of gold, some people said you had. carl had to beg to differ. the look on your face explained all he needed to know, a heart of mere paper.

he regretted it the moment he said it.

he knew how you got, how all up in your head you could be. he could only imagine how you'd be for the rest of the day, going over every interaction you've ever had with the boy and wondering where everything went wrong, where you messed up.

the moment your name slipped from his lips, he thought it may have been better to call you anything else in the entire world. even if it was laced with the dirty undertone.

he felt your body move slightly away from his, eyes cast down on the ground to avoid any glances. "'m gonna go see aaron." you announced, rather loudly too.

"okay." enid responded, her eyes glancing you over before turning to carl, a slight glare, if you will. she didn't particularly like carl, though carl hadn't the foggiest idea why. perhaps it was because she was so protective of you. carl had to roll his eyes, if anyone knew what was good for you, it was him. "don't stay out too late."

you didn't respond, grasping your bag that sat at the bench before turning onto the footpath.

carl had to purse his lips. "wrong way." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

with slightly wide eyes, you realised he was right. spinning around on your heel, you began walking left instead of right. "thanks." you mumbled under your breath before continuing your walk to one of your favourite people in the entirety of alexandria.

back at the pond, carl was cursing himself under his breath before turning around to find two accusing pair of eyes sat on the bench. one pair belonged to enid, the other to ron. "what did you do?" was enid's accusing tone, her face hard as stone. carl was on the receiving end of this look very often, he didn't fear it... well, he feared it a little but not as much as before... okay he feared it.

"what do you mean what did i do?" he instantly fell to defending himself. despite the fact that he knew he was the reason for your declining mood. "i didn't do anything."

whether it was to intimidate carl or that she smelled the sort of fish smell of ron that carl had smelt earlier, she perked up on the bench, loosening her boyfriend's arm across her shoulder. "she looks like a deflated balloon." she argued.

"yeah." ron nodded his head. carl couldn't stop the glare he sent his way, what did he know. "everyone knows aaron's like her very own guidance councillor, his boyfriend too." he shrugged his shoulders. "whatever you did, i'd say fix it quick."

the brunette boy only glared at the couple. "thanks guys, for that enlightening advice. but i don't need it, okay? i didn't do anything."

on the contrary, he was well aware that it was his fault. he needed to fix it and he needed to fix it fast but he didn't need enid and ron whispering in his ears. nobody knew you like carl, they didn't know what they were talking about. they hadn't seen you crying over some stupid movie you watched. they didn't see you smiling the way he did, they didn't take notice like him.

they'd never understand what it was like to know you. only carl would. and he'd make sure of that.

the sun was setting by the time carl had made it to your house. you'd opened the door, taking him in with your eyes before allowing him inside. maggie and glenn were on the run so the two of you headed straight towards the bedroom where'd you'd begin the movie night. however, carl was more focused on the fact that you'd spoken barely four words to him tonight rather than which disney movie you'd force him to watch this time.

he knew you were in your head but you wouldn't utter the words because what were you meant to say? hey carl, why didn't you call me baby? something so simple had ruined your entire day.

however, carl couldn't keep it in anymore. "are you okay?" he blurted out after many moments of silence as he sat atop your pink bed sheets.

you, at the foot of the bed pursed your lips. you pressed play on the movie and allowed the credits to begin. you weren't the type of person to insist that you were fine if you weren't. carl liked that about you, he never had to guess. "are you mad at me?" voice meek, like a childs.

the realisation hit carl that despite what he was feeling for you, he'd have to push it down in order to continue your friendship. at least, he couldn't take it out on you. "'course not, baby, c'mere."

the name fell from his lips like sweet relief.

it suddenly occurred to the boy that you needed him. desperately so. something as simple as calling you by your first name had thrown off your entire day. carl should have been worried, concerned even. instead, his heart fluttered a little.

you truly did rely on him.

with a sigh of relief, you found yourself crawling up to the boy. today had been so long with you being in your own head so when you felt the feeling of his hands sneak around your waist, it was like coming home after a long day at work.

you couldn't see his face but if you could, you'd see the sheer nervousness on his face. he needed to control himself but he wasn't sure how that was possible while you cuddled up against him beneath your bed sheets, clad in your pretty pale blue shorts and your white spaghetti strap top.

your knee was bent, extending over the top of his legs. there was a sharp intake of breath as your knee gently bumped against the prominent bulge in his shorts. you hadn't noticed, he knew you hadn't noticed and to make sure you wouldn't notice, he reached over to switch off the light, clearing his throat. "so, uh, what are we watching?"

"the princess frog." you answered, turning your head up to look at his face as he groaned.

a look of displeasment was evident on his face. "it's so boring!" he practically gushed.

offence hit you like a truck. "excuse me!" you battled. "i'd like to see you opening up your own restaurant all by yourself." even carl had to admit, you got him there.

carl never understood why you picked movies that you fell asleep so early during.

he heard your soft snores and your gentle breath hit the crook of his neck within the first half hour of the movie. though he couldn't blame you. truthfully, he could only blame himself in how he had your head messed up, practically knocked off your shoulders for the entire day.

it took until almost a full hour into the movie for you to stur.

at first, carl thought he'd misheard it. a little noise falling from your lips. then, he heard it again.

he held his breath as he heard the whimper leave your lips.

then, he felt it.

the gentle roll of your hips against his thigh had him practically seeing stars. the boy glanced to the tv hoping for some kind of a distraction from his obvious hard on. he couldn't wake you up, not because he actually couldn't. but because he wasn't too sure if he wanted to.

admitting it sounded like nails on a chalkboard but he'd be lying if he said he did want to. the little whimper you let out, sleepily and lowly albeit, into his ear was enough for him to almost completely loose his control.

it was like he was dreaming, it was everything he'd dreamed of, especially the night before.

you sounded even better than he'd thought.

he shouldn't have laid so still. you weren't aware of the way your hips bucked onto his leg, a little whine stretching from your lips. he reminded himself that you were too busy sleeping to understand what was going on. he couldn't engage with you, that'd be wrong.

so... wrong.

then he'd swore he heard it. "carl." a mumble in your sleep, enough for him to not know whether or not you were actually sleeping. he took a glance at your face, eyes screwed shut.

he was imagining things, he had to have been.

you soon rolled over, leaving him laying very stiffly as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening.

you were having a wet dream, obviously. that'd never happened before, at least not while cuddled up against carl. but he could have swore he heard you say his name. he shook his head, knowing he was wrong, he was so caught up in what had happened the night before that he was imagining you breathe his name.

then, he heard it again.

this time it was more stretched out into a whine. due to the movie on in the background, he could vaguely make out the way your cunt rutted onto nothingness, the mattress maybe but it wasn't enough to cause any real friction.

his mind stirred. if you really were having a dream about him, surely it was only his duty to... help?

but it was dirty, downright perverted.

but your noises were growing needier, obviously the bed wasn't enough for you to create real friction from. he had to help you. "poor girl, can't even get herself off." he mumbled under his breath, not enough to wake you up.

if he were to touch you, it wouldn't be for him. no, he was doing this for you.

he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't wake. on the contrary, you'd sleep through an asteroid should it hit your home.

he reached his hand down beneath the covers, holding his breath. he was helping you, he reminded himself, helping you. this was for you, making sure you felt good as your dream continued. your dream of him.

suddenly, he wasn't the all too dirty one. perhaps you were.

his fingers gently felt the core of your shorts, taking an intake of breath upon feeling just how wet you were. it practically seeped onto his fingers, it was a wonder if his sweatpants didn't have a wet stain on them from how you'd been rolling your hips against them.

he breathed in, gently massaging the area you needed him the most, you all but moaned into the pillow, eyes screwed shut.

carl had dreamed of this moment for as long as he lived, he wasn't ready to give it up just yet.

the way your hips jutted into his hand, creating all the friction you needed and you whimpered again, still stuck in slumber, had carl's confidence through the roof.

it was as if saying his name, he realised you wanted it just as much as he did.

how he ended beneath the covers, he wasn't too sure. perhaps it was the newfound confidence he'd gained.

he'd spent too long dreaming of this moment to stop now. he breathed as shallow as a man could before his fingers travelled back to your shorts, gently pulling them away from your aching cunt. that was when he realised you hadn't been wearing panties. did you do that often around him? had you been... expecting something?

nonetheless, carl was more than willing to give it to you.

his breath fanned your pussy, prettier than his sick mind could have ever mustered. the image would be burned into his head, it'd never leave. one thing was for sure, this boy wasn't leaving the next morning without putting his mouth to your cunt.

and that was exactly what he did.

his tongue reached your pussy, licking a long stripe and feeling your thighs jump and your body jolt. obviously, never been touched.

he knew it'd be him who touched you first. now, it was just him making sure of it.

he licked again, your wetness gathering on his tongue. he tried to hold back the groan that spread throughout your entire body. yet, you still lay sleeping. it somehow only egged him on further. he knew you wouldn't wake. to him, your body was his for the taking. and he was going to take it.

his tongue found your cute hole, hands against your thighs, holding them, trapping them down.

tongue dancing across your clit, he heard you moan even louder, still trapped by slumber. his lips curved upwards, tongue circling your clit. he moved one of his hands, using his middle finger to gently slide into your sopping hole. so wet for him, already.

he cursed enid and ron for thinking they knew you. he cursed all of the people who thought they knew you. the truth was, the only person you could ever rely on would be him, he'd make sure that you got what you needed, make sure all your needs were fulfilled at all times. perhaps this was just him making sure of that fact.

his tongue moved away from your clit, moving his other hand to meet it. he saw the way your body writhed against his hands. he couldn't wait to do this when you were awake.

it wasn't until your thighs actually began to shake that he knew what was happening. "s'pretty." he mumbled, dazed as drool practically dripped from his mouth. you truly were, the most beautiful thing he'd ever encountered his entire life.

mouth moving back to your cunt, he moved his tongue back against your clit at an alarming pace. with his now free hand, he held your thighs down, trapping them under him as your body shook against him, jutting your hips back and practically rolling your hips against his face. he relished in it. you were practically getting off to his pretty face which told him all the more just how much you loved this.

he felt your hips force themselves back to the bed, shaking and vibrating until your juices poured out onto his tongue.

you'd came.

he lapped you up without second thought, tongue dancing over your hole and licking the juices off the single finger he'd pushed inside of you.

licking his lips, he finally rose. he watched your face lull in your sleep, obviously content and finally getting your sweet relief. he gently moved your shorts to cover your pussy again, as if nothing had happened at all.

it took mere seconds for you to roll back over and onto him, cuddling against his side. he couldn't help but feel even dirtier.

you'd never even know.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[toruskiii]

"That's my wife!"

Synopsis: Your husband is consumed with jealousy. Genre: Fluff Characters: Yingxing x f!reader Warnings: Yingxing's personality might be a little ooc, you guys are married!!! (SHOCKER!!), he's so silly (I want him in me) A/N: this was supposed to be a multi character fic with all the Xianzhou men but I got lazy [masterlist] [about me]

Yingxing's hands glided over the gleaming steel, carving intricate patterns as he meticulously sharpened the sword's edges. He was a master swordsmith, and a skilled swordsman as well. Anyone who laid eyes on his creations could see the devotion and precision he poured into each piece.

But today, he couldn't help but notice something was off— his work felt sloppy.

He was in the middle of fulfilling a commission, with the client standing right before him, watching his every move. Normally, Yingxing preferred to work away from prying eyes, but today was an exception.

The real distraction, however, was that the gentleman in front of him kept stealing glances in your direction, as you assisted at a neighboring stall near his workshop.

"You're really skilled," the man remarked, admiring the sword in his hands. "Your craftsmanship is as fine as that woman over there." He chuckled, his eyes flicking over to you as you carried boxes to assist an elderly woman.

Yingxing felt a vein throb at his temple, his hands pausing briefly at the man's comment. "Thank you," he responded curtly, his tone icy. Normally, he was a man of few words, but rarely did his voice carry such a sharp edge.

Yingxing continued to etch the custom designs into the sword, his hands steady despite the occasional glance he cast toward his client. He wasn’t one to get easily jealous— his bond with you was secure, as was yours with him, but something about the way the man looked at you sparked an unfamiliar tension within him.

"Does that lady work at that stall?" No.

"I wonder what her name is..." You don’t deserve to know.

"She’s quite the beauty. I wonder if she’s spoken for." She does, me.

"Maybe I should ask her ou—"

Suddenly, a sharp screech echoed as Yingxing’s tool scraped harshly against the metal, causing the man to jolt and snap his attention back to the swordsmith.

The man watched Yingxing with a growing sense of uncertainty as he polished the sword with an almost aggressive fervor. "Hey, are you supposed to polish it like that? Isn’t that going to damage my sword?" he yelped, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he flinched at the fierce glare Yingxing shot his way.

"I apologize," Yingxing replied, his brow arching in challenge. "Are you the expert here, or am I?" He deliberately intensified his focus, sharpening the sword even faster, each stroke deliberate and precise.

The man's throat tightened as he gulped, his nerves getting the better of him. He shook his head, mumbling an apology as he realized he was facing the renowned calm and patient swordsmith— though the man before him seemed anything but calm in this moment.

As silence enveloped the workshop, soft footsteps echoed from the back door. You stepped inside, a warm smile on your face, only to be greeted by Yingxing’s soft voice. He noticed the client’s eyes widen in surprise. "Ah— miss, don’t you work at the other stall? You can’t just waltz into Yingxing’s workshop like this."

You blinked in confusion, your smile turning to one of bewilderment. "Huh?"

Yingxing felt a surge of irritation at the sight of the man's smug expression, wishing he could wipe that insipid smile off his face with a single strike. "Yeah, you—"

"That’s my wife you’re talking to," he interrupted, his tone firm and protective.

The air grew heavy with tension as the implications of his words settled in, leaving the man momentarily speechless. Yingxing’s eyes bore into him, a silent warning that was unmistakably clear.

The man stood frozen, shock washing over his features as embarrassment crept into his cheeks. He had just let himself compliment and gawk at you— right in front of your husband! The realization hit him like a cold wave.

"Oh— uh, I wasn’t aware," he stammered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, his confidence evaporating. His eyes darted between you and Yingxing, desperately searching for a way to defuse the suddenly tense situation.

Yingxing’s expression remained stoic, but the protective glint in his eyes made it clear that the man’s floundering attempts at an apology wouldn’t erase his misstep.

"...No worries," Yingxing replied tersely, completing the final steps of the sword before turning to head toward the back to package it up carefully.

You stifled a laugh at his annoyed expression, finding amusement in his irritation. "Oh, don’t be so upset, 'Xing. The man didn’t know." You gently patted his back, watching as he meticulously wrapped protective layers around the sword before placing it in a sturdy box.

"How could he not know? Everyone has heard of me; there’s no way he hasn’t heard of my own wife," he grumbled, his voice thick with annoyance. He handled the sword with an almost fragile grip, despite the protective layers surrounding it. "Perhaps this man isn’t a true Xianzhou civilian if he hasn’t even heard of my wife."

You shook your head, relishing the glimpse of jealousy that flickered across his features before your gaze landed on something unusual etched into the sword.

傻瓜.

Did he really just—

"Dear, did you carve that on purpose?" you gasped, noting how deeply he had engraved the word into the steel. Yingxing could only huff in response, a subtle nod confirming your suspicion.

"You can’t just do that to your client because you’re upset!"

"It suits him," he shrugged, finally placing the sword into its box and scribbling the client’s name on a piece of paper. "Besides, I’m not charging him any extra for that little addition."

"Every time he swings his sword, his enemies will see just how foolish he truly is."

[yuyu1024]

Lettuce

Pairings: Mingyu × y/n

Genre/tags: non idol, dating

Warning: 🔞 fluff but still smut, pet names (babes, baby, love, honey, sweetheart etc.), cursing, unportected/protected sex (always be safe), kinks (size, breeding, tits, etc), mention of small age gap, mention of low self-esteem/confidence and insecurities

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: been away. I didnt know if I should post this or delete but then... I dont want effort to go to waste so.. 😅 i hope this is an okay one.

Have a nice day.

Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------

"Are you still waiting for your ride home?"

You look at the group of girls standing a few feet away from you. They are from the department across your office.

"Is your boyfriend late?" She adds a follow up question

You smile, "I am." You cautiously answer.

They are not your friends so you are not comfortable to share more than that. And also they are known to be the gossipers in the officr so, any details about your personal life would be the next topic for the next few weeks if you share anything with them.

"It's already late... are you sure he's still coming?" One girl asks.

Luckily, the bus arrives just in time for them to hurry in. No time for you to even chat with them anymore.

"Thank goodness..." you sigh feeling relieved.

*pings*

🐶: sorry, im late. 😭

🐶: i helped an old lady cross the street.

🐶: didn't know she would ask me to also help her get boxes of soju in her shop.

🐶: she admitted to pretending to struggle crossing the street so she can ask anyone to help her and his son 🙃 and then made me buy a whole bunch of lettuce.

🐶: like a whoke bunch😶

🐶: you like lettuce right babe?😚

You smile as you read your boyfriend's text. You don't know if its you imagining him pouting because he feels sorry he made you wait or its because he felt used and scammed.

💖: you're so silly.

💖: its still a good deed so its okay 😊

🐶: but i am 10mins late.

🐶: i cant let my princess wait for me.

💖: i can wait. As long as its you... ♥️

You see him read the message and then not reply.

"Hello stranger..."

You got startled when Mingyu embraces you from behind and kissed you on the cheek.

"Yah! You scared me." You slap his arm

"Sorry..." he giggles and kissed you again. This time on the lips.

"Stop..." you say, blushing. "We are outside."

"So...?" He grins and then puts his arm around you. "We are a couple. Who the fuck cares?"

You roll your eyes. "You know people judge..."

"No... they are just jealous because I am dating a wonderful woman..."

You shake your head. "No... they are not jealous because of me..." you push him away. Forcing a laugh. "Probably because you look good in that double denim look."

Here you go again with your self pity and self judging. You always do this. 'This' notion that you are way below over any other girl and that you are just lucky Mingyu is your boyfriend. You always make an effort to put yourself down without even noticing that Mingyu does not like it.

He fucking loves you. Inside and out. From head to toe. From front to back. He even loves it when you are not at your best behavior nor position. He just... loves you. Period.

But on your end, even with a million reassurance, you always doubt yourself for him.

***

Arriving at his apartment, the first thing you did was announce that you are going to take a shower. You didn't even looked at him when you said it. You're not mad at him or whatever. You are just guilty and feel sorry for being down out of the blue. You didn't even talked that much during the ride home.

"Hey..." he takes you by your arm and pulls you close for an embrace. He kissed the top of your head and then forehead. "Take your time... I'm going to cook dinner."

You smile with no teeth showing. "Okay..." your voice sounding almost a whisper.

"Anything in particular you want? We have meat, fish and vegetables... like a lot of lettuce..." referring to the whole plastic the old lady sell him. "You want something with soup or fried? Ramyun or pasta?"

"Hmm... I like pasta... and a salad on a side?"

"Okay... as you wish my princess..."

The whole apartment smells like a five star restaurant. The fragrance is to die for and makes your mouth water. When you got out of the bedroom, hair still damp, you got suprised by how extravagant Mingyu arranged the dining area. Fancy plates, lit candles, wine glasses and a bottle of his favorite red win. All of a sudden, iy felt like you entered an Italian restaurant wearing your baby pink pajamas and hello kitty slippers.

"Hi, babe." Mingyu is a ray of sunshine while putting on a few more finishing touches on the table. "Ready to eat?"

"Aww..." your heart is aching with pure joy. He is the sweetest man alive.

You stumble your way to him, caused by your own feet. He managed to catch you giggling with you. You look silly but he find it cute. And then as your eyes met he immediately captures your lips for a kiss. Small pecks that got deeper and more seductive. The kisses are loud that it echoes and bounce off the walls of the apartment. He can't also stop touching every curve of your body. From your hips, to your ass and to your tits. He even lifted your shirt so he can access your bra and yank one side down exposing you boob.

"M-mingyu...." you giggle as you try to pull away from the kiss. He does not want to let you go. He keeps on chasing your pink lips whenever a gap starts to build in betweem his. "We need to eat... the food will get cold..."

He didn't answer. He leans lower so he could give love on your exposed bud. He suck it first before he lets his tongue lick it and make your squirm.

"M-mingyu..." you inhale. "The food...?"

He finally lets you go, smiling. "Fine." He chased one more kiss. "But after we eat..." and another one. "I'd like to go straight to dessert." And another one. "You know I love my dessert." He says, bitting his lower lip while grinning like a mad dog.

"You're crazy!" You pinch his nose.

"Crazy over you..." he growls and suddenly picks you up off the floor. He puts your legs around his waist and you automatically hang your arms over his shoulder to hold on.

"Yah!"

"I can't wait. I think I want to begin our dinner with dessert first." His eyes is filled with desire and he is ready to wreck you.

Kicking the door open to your bedroom, Mingyu lays you down gently but in a hurry at the same time. He is on a mission. He is not going to make love to you. He will FUCK your brains out tonight. You know that look in his eyes.

"No condoms... I need to feel you... skin to skin..." he pulls his shirt off and throws it, hitting the wall, then begins to unbuckle his belt and pants. "And I'll like to fill you up until it leaks out of your pussy." He adds, grinning

"Oh God..." you try to get a hold of yourself. Not ready for what is coming

He pushes down his pants and underwear in one go. His length springs free and is up, steady and hard. It's tip glistening with pre cum.

"Turn around..."

You do as he says and go on fours on top of the bed. He pulls your pants down, revealing a bare and wet pussy ready to be torn.

"No panties huh..."

You blush. "Well... I know we'll have sex today... I just didn't know its going to be this soon..."

Mingyu hovers on your back, hand sliding up and down your curves. "Do you want me to stop and just go on with dinner?"

You lower your heard, embarassed, even though he's not seeing how turned on and red you are. "No... I would never say no to you..." after a few breaths in you look back, cheeks red and warm. "You know sex with you is my only addiction."

"Fuck yeah it is..." he says proudly and satisfied

He eases himself in, slowly but deliciously. He skipped prepping you. He can't wait anymore. His dick is aching and wanting to feel your walls.

"I'll be a little rough to you today, babe." He smacks your ass and a moan escapes your lips. "I didn't like what you did earlier..."

"Ughhh!" He slams strong and consistent. It's driving you insane how he could hit the very back of your cervix. Actually he could hit every thing inside you. Thats how long and thick he is. "W-hat... what did... I do?" You arch your back and pushed your upper body up so he can embrace you and touch your body as he thrust your brains out.

"You know..." he grunts as he adjusts and tries to go deeper, even though he is already at the deep end of your insides. "I don't like it... when you don't appreciate yourself..." he inhales and exhales as he feels you clench and make it tighter. "Fuck! Babe!" He kisses the curves of your neck and bites on your shoulder when he feels the tightness thats make it fucking sensational for him

You ubotton your top to give him access to your chest. You didn't unhook your bra though. You just pulled the ladies out and the bra helps give them a push up.

"You are beautiful... sexy... and a wonderful woman..." he pushes your hair out of his way so he can kiss your neck. "Love yourself... the way I love you."

He then pulls out, almost making you cry and beg. But them makes you turn around to face him.

"Can you?" He asks with the most loving eyes

You crash your lips to his. Pushing your tongue in him. You didn't stop until you hear a moany cry from your boyfriend. His brows then creases when you playfully bite his lower lip. "I want to..."

"But what?" He carries you off the bed and pins you to the wall, beside the window of your bedroom. Your one leg touching the ground while the other is hooked over his forearm. "Answer me, babe."

He slams back in you. Stronger and much deeper. Which confused you coz how? Its not like your cervix can expand. But thats what it felt when he slammed you. It didn't hurt. It felt insane actually. Insanely goodm

"You are kind... sweet... caring... hardworking... knows what you like and dislike... respectful..."

You are catching your breathe in your throat. Its like you are choking from excess pleasure. You try to speak but you can't let go of the high. So instead of speaking, you just shook your head.

"You don't agree?" He asks. Mingyu looks at you with his puppy eyes and showered you with kisses. Then he kept repeating all the good qualities you have as a person and even physically.

He really is telling you every bits about you. Everything that he loves and dislike but accepts coz it is you. It is part of you. He really do love you.

"What can I do... to reassure you?"

You put your hand over his mouth. Not to shut him down but to hush him for a second. Just for a moment until you get it all out for him.

"Fuck me!" You cry as you can't help but  cry more of his name. You are so close to your orgasm. "Nggghhhh...!"

You shut your eyes ready to explode but then Mingyu pulls away from your hand, takes you back in bed to finish, when he suddenly says the two words you didn't expect him to say while he's fucking your brains out

"Marry me..." he says.

Your eyes opens, looks at him in pure shock and bliss. "W-wha..." you can't finish your words. He was hammering you. You can't answer. "Mingyu!" You moan his name so loud when your world spun around.

"I love you." He grunts as he see you melt and when he pushed into you a few more times, he finally begins release himself you. All the warmth and every drop of him in you. "Fuck!" He exhales, dropping his body on you but not his weight. "I love you..." he says again. "So much..." he kisses your shoulder and then your cheek. "So... what do you say?" He smirks

"Suddenly?" You look at him, confused.

"Hmmm..." he scrunches his nose, still wearing the smile on his lips. "Not really..."

He then gets up, pulling out of you, which felt like you got more naked than what you are now. More exposed.

"Wait lemma clean you first."

He runs into the bathroom and takes a towel to wipe you clean. Just clean enough to be presentable but not totally wipe his seeds off you. He wants that in there.

And then he runs out of the room.

"Where are you going? Babe?" You are confused. Why is your man running outside the bedroom ass naked

Giggling as you see him comeback in and carrying the plastic bag of lettuce.

"Huh? What's that for?" You sit up and wrap the thin white blanket to your body.

"I lied. Well... we still going to have salads and all..." he is mumbling. "This should be over dinner... but... I could not help myself earlier so..."

"Mingyu... what is going on...?"

Laughing but still trying to pull a serious face. "It was true that an old lady sold me this but... as I was helping her she took the paper bag the came wit this... and I panicked." He sits down beside you. "I didn't want to put it in my jacket or pocket coz... it will be obvious... and when we walk and your cold you always put your hand in my jacket's pockst so..."

"Mingyu!" You grab his face and kissed him. To make him focus. "Just say it..." you are giggling now too.

"Okay..." a soft smile spreads to his lips. "I know... you may think... I'm still young and naive."

"No you're not..."

"Yeah but... still... anyways..." he nervously laughs. "Like I said... you are an amazing woman. Anyman who you choose to love will be the luckiest. And thankfully its me..." he then goes down to his one knee and pulls out a black box from the plastic of lettuce. "I said I didn't like what you did earlier... you looking down at yourself... but that does mean I hate you or mad at you for it... I just say that because I care.. I want you to feel... assured and happy." He opens the box and shows the most brightest ring you ever saw in your life. "If I have to always reassure you for the rest of our lives... I don't fucking care. I am up for it. I love you and I can't live a day without you." Pulling out the ring and taking your hand. "Please marry me... I will serve you and love you forever..."

You watch him put the ring on your finger.

"So...?" He looks at you with doe eyes

Letting go of the blanket covering your body, you launch yourself to him, making you guys fall on the floor. "I love you Kim Mingyu..." you say first before kissing him. "Forever is not a bad idea..." you kiss him again. "Of course I will accept."

"Sorry if I proposed to you after sex... at diner would've been fantastic"

"Don't say sorry... I do love your way..." you get up from embracing him. "It brings back to how we started."

He sits back up. "Right."

Then you stare at your ring. "Who could've guessed that... I will be marrying the guy I met and fucked at a friend's birthday?"

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[catssluvr]

𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮, spencer reid

spencer x shy!r

spencer brings you coffee <3

warnings: mentions of stress? just fluff 🫶🏻

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sighed as your eyes scaned the paper in front of you, not bothering to take a look at the mountain of files standing at the corner of your table. You were pretty much sure that if you did, your headache - that would soon turn into a migrane - would start showing signs way too soon in the day. 7am was definitely too early for that.

This week was particularly kicking your ass and the only thing you wanted was to go back home, curl into your sofa with some takeout and watch a junkie romcom.

You couldn't help but frown at the empty chair of the table in front of yours that belonged to spencer, it was unsual for him to be this late. Well, technically he wasn´t late but knowing him he would usually arrive 30 minutes earlier.

Before you could think too much about it, Derek´s voice sounded behind you, "You alright, pretty girl?" He asked with one of his teasing but loving smiles plastered on his face.

"Yeah, just tired of paperwork. Hotch knows how to make me get as grumpy as him." You joked with a smile, trying to mask your tiredness.

"Well if you need me to kick his ass just reach out." He joked, looking aroud to make sure there was no sign of your boss before walking back to his desk.

You were about to get back to your paper when you noticed Spencer walking through the doors, clumsly carrying two coffees and what happeared to be a box from the place where they sell your favourite bagels.

You couldn´t help but smile as you watched him take small steps to his table, careful not to spill the coffee. You would have helped him if your mind wasn´t concentrated on how much you miss him lately. Aside from the fact your stomach errupts in a thousand butterflies when you see him, he is the best bestfriend in the whole world and having to cancel friday´s movie night was probably one of your most heartbreaking decisions. You usually wouldnt miss it for nothing but files don´t yet fill themselves alone so it was your only option.

Friday nights were the only oportunity you had to relax completely, Spencer was probably one of the only people that you were completely comfortable around, he understood you like no one else - which leads to the big question: how could you not fall in love with him?

"Hi." His voice interrupted your thoughts, he was now standing beside you with his signature smile, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel wrapped up in a paper in the other.

"Hey Spence." You smiled shyly at him, embarrassed for getting caught in your daydream. Gladly, he hadn’t ´t even noticed you staring, him being just as oblivious as you when it came to the feelings you shared for eachother.

"I- uhm- bought you this. I just noticed you haven´t been taking breaks at all, not even for lunch. And if you're not eating enough during the day, particularly carbohydrate-rich foods, you may have decreased levels of serotonin, a hormone that has a calming effect. That increases the chances of getting stressed." He rambled on, not that you minded - at all. In fact, your heart skiped a beat at the thought of him caring so much about your health that he came in late just to buy you breakfast.

"Oh Spence you really didn´t have to. But thank you so much." You grinned sheepishly as you got up from your chair, taking both the coffee and bagel from his hands and setting it on your table, blushing when his knuckles brushed against your hand. It was silly, really silly, but you couldn´t help but get flustered every time.

"It´s no problem, really." He mumbled softly before going on, "I hope i got everything right. Four cubes of ice, three fourths of milk and one fourth of coffee. Oh and i made sure to choose the bagel that contained more carbs so you would have energy for the day." He smiled proudly at you.

But honestly your attention was mostly focused on the way his fingers were fiddling with the cozy sweater that covered your arms as he rambled on. It had became an habit of his, he claimed it helped his concentration (it was a pretty lame excuse to get to touch your fluffy sweaters) but you were pretty sure he did it when he was feeling nervous about something.

Reality hit you suddenly as you realised he might feel like you were upset at him for canceling friday night, after all it was a very unusual for you to cancel plans with him.

"Hug?" Was all you could muster out, the longing you had felt throughout the week from barely even talking to him finally coming to the surface.

His hands pulled at your sweater, bringing you close to him before you could overthink your request. He wrapped his arms arounds your waist without hesitation, his face snuggling against your neck.

Your arms went around his shoulders, trying not to squeeze him too hard, as you stayed there for a few moments. He made no sign to pull away from you until you did, you loved that about him - you loved a lot of things about him.

When you were finally out of his embrace, mourning the lack of warmt right after, he smiled as he whispered softly, "Let me know if you need any of those again." Before walking back to his desk, almost tripping over his desk as he looked at you with those doe eyes of his the whole way.

How could you not fall in love with him?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

love you,

cat 🤍

[writella]

The Confession

Synopsis: Confessions shared with the wrong person gone so sinfully right.

Details: rick grimes x reader, afab!reader, smut—masturbation, unprotected sex, riding, both rick and reader being desperate in the dark. I made the exact reason for the confession and occasion very vague. 18+, wc: 2.6k. Proof read, but there might be some errors.

A/N: Not sure how much I like this one, but I had this idea back in early October and I wanted to finish it and give you guys something after a whole month.

I miss you, I’m sorry. Hope you’re all well!! With love from writella. ♡

Your voice is solemn and heavy as you sigh before starting, “I don’t do this very often,” you say, “I hope this is okay.” Your eyes lowering shamefully as you stop. It’s only the first sentence and you’re finding it hard to continue. It’s almost as if there are needles piercing into your throat. “I just feel so embarrassed,” you admit.

Then you pause.

No response from him comes after.

Only silence fills the dark and hallow space of the wooden confession box. Only your thoughts, every creak you made on the built-in bench, and the light wind that rustled from the cracked door were heard.

You wait a second longer.

Hoping.

But still, nothing.

Part of you was suspecting that Gabriel would have been more inviting, telling you it’s okay; and doing so with his kind and gentle voice, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing anything it seemed. You only saw the silhouette of his face when you walked inside— the outline of a nose and mouth, really. He seemed to be sitting as far from the small barred window as he could, but you didn’t dare look again. You didn’t even turn on the light fixture in the corner. Your fear was all too big, and his unwavering quietness made it worse.

Maybe you had come at the wrong time, maybe you interrupted him. You almost wanted to ask. But maybe confessions happened in complete silence… you didn’t know anymore, but at this point, you were hoping so. You had already wasted five minutes and managed only one sentence. Perhaps he heard the fear in your voice and was just trying to be a good listener… yes, maybe, you pretend as you urged yourself to start again:

You breathe in sharply, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” The words come out in an uneasy, hushed whisper. “It happens a lot and I know it’s wrong. And you’re probably going to look at me differently after this, but I have to tell someone so I can stop.”

Your eyes screw shut, the next phrase coming out jumbled and continuous as you try to explain yourself quickly: “I’ve journaled about it and told myself it’s wrong but it’s not helping.” You start to weep, almost laughing at yourself, “I feel so stupid.”

You sigh and you almost think you hear him do so too, but you keep going.

“I’ve been thinking about someone,” you finally say. “For a long time. And I know it’s bad, I know it, but I do it anyway. It's all I think about.”

Another pause.

You catch your breath.

You wait.

But nothing.

So, you start again.

“I think I love him sometimes.” And if you couldn’t get any more timid, your cheeks flush, and your voice grows quieter, “I like his hair, and his eyes, those button-downs he always wears…” you smile at yourself, these were silly things, “Even his beard.”

And then you hear him shuffle, and a light sound is emitted.

It startles you, but silence ensues again thereafter. Maybe you imagined it.

“I like his kindness too. People would usually say strong or giving, but that’s what I like to tell him— that he’s kind. I think he’s kinder than other people give him credit for. He’s just protective. Everyone, and especially himself, we put a lot of pressure on him to make the hard decisions, but, really…” and there it is, “that's not the only way I think about him. There are things–” your throat tightens again– “ things that I think about. And things that I do.” Your eyes screw tight as you force yourself to say it, “I touch myself.”

Another bout of silence comes before the question.

One you’d never suspect.

“Can you describe it?” The voice asks, dark and curious.

The cool spring air of the night turns cold, but it adds no relief to the summer heat that burns in your heart as it begins to beat painfully. The texture in his voice, the inflection at the end that lined the sentence as a request, it rings through one ear and out the other and back again in a cycle.

You knew who it was.

“What?” You shriek so lightly as if playing dumb would help you now. He knew who you were talking about, you made it so desperately obvious.

“Can you,” he repeats steadily, “describe it?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“What other better time could there be?” You can’t tell if he truly means it. His voice remains firm and lets out no hints of his true intentions, but despite doubt, you start anyway. He’s right after all, you’re in here because there hasn’t been a better time.

“I- I start by touching up my thighs, trailing up slowly… I always get so nervous… I never do it fast because I know I shouldn’t do it while thinking about you- about him,” you correct yourself, squeezing your thighs together, your hands gripping the bench tightly.

“But you do it anyway.”

“I do,” you reply meekly.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“I can't.”

“What happens when you finally reach all the way up?”

“Gotta touch myself.”

He puts his hands on his knees, making sure his voice stays leveled. “Where do you start?”

“Rubbing my clit.”

“Do it.”

And then you do. You truly can’t help it. Your fingers slide down your hips to the front of your heat, chilly fingers pressing up against your lips over your underwear.

He hears the little sigh as you finally allow your finger to reach your clit in between.

“How does it feel?”

“My fingers are cold right now, so,” a quick breathy laugh leaves you, “ good, really good.” You rub your fingers in slow circles, but your hand and hips jerk, forcing you to speed up, but you try, try to not seem so pathetic to yourself as if there was any attempt at going back now.

His voice’s a slight strain as he asks, “And what do you think about?” He starts to rub his thighs, feeling his cock stir to the side of his jeans, making the material feel tighter than it truly was. His fingers trail closer, knuckles brushing against his erection. He’s pretending like he can stop himself too. “What does he do in your head, sweetheart?”

“He watches,” you say as your movements speed up again. You really can’t help it now, his voice edges you on. Your hand goes under the band of your underwear, fingers collecting wetness below to bring up to your clit, “He’s standing at the edge of the bed,” you tell him, “he’s unbuttoning his shirt, and then he starts taking off his belt… He’s smiling.”

If only you knew that hearing how bad you wanted him was making him do the same thing on the other side.

You’re panting now, one foot comes up to the bench as you slide yourself over to press your back into the corner of the wall, your head tilting back as well, using the assistance to grind into your hand. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“That's cause are.” He’s lowered his pants now and takes his cock out from under his boxers. Your words make his mouth gape and his eyes close as he begins to stroke himself. “You really are.”

His smile fades as he bites down on his lip lightly. You’re so needy for him and so desperate to admit it. It makes him feel powerful. Almost God-like, despite you both starring as the other’s tempter. So sweet and sinful the sounds you’re making are. How could he not give in? How could he not make you wet for him even at church and stroke his cock as it happens? You’re making it so easy with every whine and little moan you try to withhold. He could hear you getting restless, but he wants to make you want it more, “Keep goin’,” he tells you. “What’s happening now?”

“I put two fingers in,” you whine, “not big enough. Never enough.”

You let your two fingers stay inside you as you press your palm down on your pussy, rubbing your clit with the underside of your hand. You stop for a moment to take off your pants and underwear entirely, discarding it on the floor before you return to your spot. You put one leg up on the bench as you continue to finger yourself.

“I want him so bad.”

“How bad, sweetheart? What would you let him do?”

“Anything, Rick.” You say it louder than you intend, you’re losing yourself. “Anything for him.”

“Anything?”

“Everything.”

After that only nonsense comes out, simple sounds of desire and pleads. It was becoming too much to talk.

Rick felt the same. His hand on his shaft made quick and short movements, his lips parted and pink, more red on the bottom than the top from when bit his lip again at the words anything and everything for him. He repeated it in his mind, listening to your sweet little whines in the present. His head tilts so far back that it bangs on the wooden wall and he hisses.

It reminds him to compose himself.

Even after you let out another moan of his name, and he swears he could almost hear just how wet you are now, the squish of your fingers going in and out, louder and louder.

He swallows hard and takes a breath before he says, “What if I say I want you in here right now?”

That’s when your movements completely stop. You can hear the wind swirling again. You were speechless.

He turns to the netted window. You two can’t see each other but you know he’s looking. “C’mere.” He says slowly. “Now.”

And after that, your body takes control. Swift and instantaneous you move from your door to his, shutting it hard. You don’t even take a moment to look at him, it was too dark anyway, and that’s not what mattered. You’ve already dreamed of his curls, and the pierce of his blue eyes. You knew what he looked like. It’s time to know how he felt.

Rick takes off his shoes and fully lowers and discards his pants. Before he could even consider his shirt, you’re on top of him. You’re kissing his face, your lips and tongue missing his lips by just a little, but it doesn’t matter.

You begin to rock, your wet pussy making the length of his cock and thigh slick before it's even inside of you. You couldn’t help yourself and it makes him laugh, all cocky and proud. Something that you’d cross your arms to, even quip back at in any other situation but right now, it’s so fucking hot.

His hands latch onto your hips, his legs slide back to hit the wall. He raises your frame and you grab him. Your sticky fingers lace around his dick and then you both lower yourself down onto him.

You try to bottom out fast, but his nails dig into you, slowing you down. Your face reaches back with a pout and a whine as he says, “Wait,” even after he’s inside of you.

Your pussy quakes around him. You’re both trying to hold it together, but he’s faring much better than you.

His hand holds your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks and a tear falls from your eye, all the sensations becoming too much.

His eyes trail the sight as it rolls down and he tells you, “You’re right. I do think you’re beautiful.”

And he kisses you. Tongue slipping past your lips just as quickly as they depart, going to whisper in your ear: “Go on now,” he smiles, “show me everything.”

You begin to rock against him instantly. Initiating the kiss this time, your tongue slips into his mouth but his goes on top of yours. He grabs the back of your neck, deepening it, and you continue to take charge below as you ride him.

You squeeze around his cock tightly with every movement forward and you hear a strangled groan come out of him as his dick twitches at the sensation.

It makes you moan so loudly, you could wake somebody up.

But it doesn't matter.

You could even come right now just from feeling him inside you for the first time.

And it doesn’t matter.

“I've wanted you for so long, Rick!” You tell him.

He’s all that matters.

“You’ve got me.” He tells you breathlessly, kissing down your neck with his hand tugging on your hair. “You always could’ve.”

Now you know you’re all that matters too.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes closed, and mouth open for each pretty sigh and slight hiss that come out as he bites and kisses.

His hands lower to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it off. You start to undo the buttons on his too.

It’s fast and rushed and messy, but now your chests can meet. You press into him. Your hips are rocking hard. Your clit meets his pelvic bone making you whine and moan again. “Really good,” you say.

Rick’s hands slide to grab your ass, helping you go faster until they rise to your hips again. His thumbs press into the crevice of your hips and legs and he starts to bounce you on him.

You grip onto his arms, assisting him in his efforts. Your eyes are still closed, you’re smiling— already in a state of bliss, yet relishing in the fact that he was pushing you further and further into the dream-like feeling that was to come: your orgasm was close, and the string of airy moans made it evident to you both.

The way his hands move to caress your waist, trail up your back, roll over your arms, and back down again feels like gliding on ice. You felt him everywhere.

“Come on,” he tells you.

“I'm trying, I want to.”

“I know,” he affirms. He takes hold of your upper arms, letting his hands slide down to yours that tightly gripped his biceps and placed them on his shoulders.

You bounce yourself down on him harder, switching it up to rock on him and give your clit attention, then repeat it again.

Once you’re back to bouncing Rick takes one hand on your hip, helping you go faster while the other rubs your clit as vigorously as he can.

Your mouth is open wide, pants and squirms, and pleads coming out wildly. You almost feel like you’re making the whole box jump along with you as you bounce, and bounce, and bounce, and then… there it is: you shout his name and he speaks back to you, you both come together and ride out your high.

A glow emits as you smile, your head crashing into his as you catch your breath.

Then a noise erupts.

The church door closes.

Steps become louder and louder until they reach the open confession box door.

Rick puts his finger to your lips, silently quieting you both. Your eyes are owl wide knowing what the person in the next section would find in there. You almost squirm but Rick slots his finger into your mouth to stop it. “Quiet,” he mouths as the person next to you drops the wet garments they just touched, almost running out of the place as fast as they could.

You lower your face to his shoulder. Embarrassed, you sigh, “What are we gonna do now?”

Rick is unfazed: “Well,” he starts, picking you up by the hips, securing your legs as you wrap them around him, “we could do this one more time.”

He locks the church door and then walks you down the aisle and onto the podium, placing you gently on the ground. He’s standing above you. Just like it all your daydreams.

It was his turn now.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[littlexdeaths]

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

[gojoest]

—reunion ;

how many times was it, you wonder.

that you opened the closet in your shared bedroom and found yourself staring at satoru’s clothes, and teared up because the last time you had them ironed, he was sitting on the bed behind you, throwing silly remarks at how you’re hotter than the steaming iron in your hand. you would roll your eyes and tell him that half of the time you were steaming hot was out of annoyance because he left the toilet seat up. and he would chuckle and say “my bad, love. won’t forget next time”.

that next time never came.

you would tear up every time upon seeing the toilet seat left down. so you got used to his habit and purposely kept it up at all times. because that way the bathroom had more semblance of when he was still around.

you would tear up simply glancing at his toothbrush placed in the holder because the bristles looked too hard and stiff since he didn’t get to use it in a long time. or the sunglasses he left on the nightstand that you couldn’t bring yourself to move and would carefully dust around so you didn’t change the way they were placed. because he left them there. he touched them last.

was it silly to think that as long as they stayed there, part of him would always be in that house? you didn’t know. but you clearly remember the day you had a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen because your friend threw the empty box of kikufuku mochi in the trash. it was the box he bought. the box he ate from. it was just an empty snack wrap, a trash. yet it felt like part of his presence was torn out of your life.

and this morning your alarm goes off. you open your eyes and sigh because you know how the routine goes— get up, see his sunglasses on the nightstand, tear up, wash your face, brush your teeth, see his toothbrush, tear up some more, smile at the toilet seat being up but then cry because it wasn’t him who left it that way but you, see his clothes when picking your outfit, cry, get dressed and go to work with puffy eyes.

but every once in a while, certain circumstances make it so you’re unable to stick to your daily routine. like oversleeping in the morning and then being forced to skip half of the steps in a rush so you don’t run late to work. or missing sunglasses on the nightstand, or the toilet seat left down, or a white-haired man, making pancakes in the kitchen (or an attempt at least).

“is this a dream or..”, you mumble with a shaky voice.

“if i burn the kitchen down— yes! it’s a bad bad dream”

tears build up in your eyes and you quickly rush to nuzzle into his chest, wrapping both arms around him and squeezing tightly.

“you.. you idiot”

“kept my word though— did you see the seat? left it down this time!”

“took you long..”

“my bad, love”, he chuckles resting his chin at the top of your head while squeezing you back into the hug, “but think i need a new toothbrush, this one hurts my gums”

he does need a new toothbrush. and this time you don’t mind throwing away the old one.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

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