#if the author sees this I’m not pressuring you I just like to complain and I love your fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunjins-orange-slice-too · 3 months ago

Note

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

#emmy answers #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan stray kids #bang chan x reader #stray kids bang chan #skz chan #skz bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjins orange slice too

509 notes · View notes

glossdebut · 6 days ago

Text

coming home (a take a bite drabble) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi's been working hard lately, with lots of late nights holed up in his studio. When you wake up with no recollection of him coming home last night, you decide to show him just how much you've missed him.

✧ TAGS: NOT BETA READ, established relationship, and they live together now!, take a bite couple are still bonafide workaholics i fear, just pure smut honestly, THESE TWO ARE CRAZY IT IS THE MORNING!, warnings under the cut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.8k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: got a request for oral (m. receiving) with yoongi, and decided i wanted to turn it into a take a bite drabble because i missed these two! can stand alone, but feel free to read take a bite if you want added context! also i know the song doesn't fit the vibe of this AT ALL but it is what it is. even when they're gross they're cute sorry

✧ WARNINGS: light (but consensual) somnophilia? see: the established relationship tag, oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, hair pulling, dirty talk (including the use of sl*t but MC is so down with it), vaginal fingering, spanking, the thank you joke hasn’t died yet, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls), rough sex, choking, hand/finger kink (who is surprised), BACKSHOTSSSS!!! (pls lmk if i missed anything)

Yoongi’s had a rough week.

Naturally a light sleeper, you usually at least stir when the bed dips beside you, but you have no recollection of Yoongi’s late return from the studio last night.

It must’ve been really fucking late, then. Not that that’s totally unusual.

Living together these past few months has done little to mitigate either of your workaholic tendencies. If anything, you’ve both picked up more hours as a result, since there’s less pressure to actively set aside time for each other within both of your busy schedules. You don’t have to, not when you’re guaranteed to see each other every single day.

Which, from an outsider’s perspective, may look kind of shitty at the surface. Why be in a relationship if you don’t make time for each other? But with Yoongi, it just… works. For both of you.

It works, because when you and Yoongi do get to spend uninterrupted hours together, you both always milk them for everything they’re worth. You go out for dinner instead of eating in. If you’re both feeling social, you invite your friends over. You shower together—or, if it’s been a particularly hard week, take a bath. Talk for hours and catch up on everything you’ve missed.

Living with Yoongi, it’s just… It’s everything you’d hoped for and more.

Not to mention Yoongi is pretty much the dream roommate.

“Yah, don’t call me that,” he’d complained the first time you’d told him as much. Scrunched his nose at you so cutely. “I’m your boyfriend. I worked hard to earn that title, thanks.”

“Well, it goes without saying that you’re my dream boyfriend,” you’d replied, cooing and squishing his cheeks when the tips of his ears turned pink in response. “Two things can be true at once, Yoongi.”

He takes the trash out. Always cooks enough for two. Never leaves hair in the sink when he shaves. Lets you use his expensive skincare products (which are, infuriatingly, much better than yours) whenever you want. And no matter how late he gets home, he always showers before he even touches the bed—because being holed up in the studio for days doesn’t exactly leave him smelling like a daisy.

Despite how late it must’ve been, last night was no exception, apparently.

It’s rare for Yoongi to fall asleep in such a state of undress—he’s a t-shirt and sweatpants guy, even in the dead of summer—but when you wake up wrapped around him, you’re pleasantly surprised by the amount of skin available to you. He must’ve been too exhausted after his shower, stumbling to bed clad only in his boxer briefs.

You’re even more pleasantly surprised to find that, despite the man himself being completely conked the fuck out, Yoongi’s cock is very much awake. Poking you insistently where your leg is thrown over his body.

There are downsides to your shared workaholism. Like, Yoongi’s been coming home exhausted all week, and you haven’t had his cock in even longer. Which is fine. You don’t need sex. It is a little embarrassing, though, how just the feeling of his erection pressed against you fucking floods your panties. Brings a whole new meaning to Skinner’s box.

So you weigh your options. You could just let Yoongi sleep. It’s Saturday, after all. He has nowhere to be, as far as you know.

Orrrrr… you could do something else for him—wake him up in a way he’d surely appreciate very, very much. And you love an appreciative Yoongi.

Yeah… Fuck it.

Shifting the blankets earns you a sleepy grumble, but you ignore it and shimmy down the bed, gently maneuvering Yoongi’s body so you can fit yourself between his legs.

Shit, he really is so hard, straining against black fabric. When you lean forward to kiss down the thin trail of hair leading under his waistband, a barely-there touch where he’s aching, his cock twitches instantly. Sensitive, too.

Yoongi barely stirs when you pull the waistband down, dragging his boxer briefs as far as they’ll go in this position. If you were him, you’d already be awake by now. But lucky for you,Yoongi’s a much heavier sleeper than you are. Instead, you get to ogle him as much as you want with absolutely no judgement.

And you do, because fuck, your boyfriend is hot. Even when his face looks stupid because he’s asleep, he’s still criminally sexy. His hair has been getting longer recently, ends curling out at the base of his neck. Soft, smooth skin that you want to slide your hands all over. Long fingers that twitch slightly when you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock. Lean muscle that tenses when you wrap your lips around his tip where he’s leaking already, from so little.

You tease him a little at first, because you can get away with it like this. Wrapping your hand around the base of him, you suck his tip shallowly into your mouth, just getting a taste. Further up the bed, you hear an intake of breath, a soft murmur that you can’t quite decipher into real words.

It’s been a long time since you’ve had him in your mouth like this. Not that he doesn’t like it��you know he does, given the way he praises you so filthily when he does have you on your knees for him. Yoongi’s just a giver by nature, and with how little you’ve been able to touch each other lately, he’s more likely to have his head between your legs rather than the other way around. Or he just fucks you. It’s been a while, but when you’re both up for it, he always fills you up so fucking good. Gives it to you nice and slow until you can’t help but beg him to fuck you harder, faster, moremoremore—

Jesus, yeah, you can’t tease anymore. You don’t have the patience he does to drag things out.

In one smooth motion, you’re swallowing him up, bracing your hands on the mattress so you can get the right angle to take him as far as you can.

The stretch makes your eyes water. Your throat puts up a valiant effort to keep him out, to tense up at the intrusion. You’ve never done this without his guidance, but you take a moment to fucking relax. You remember to breathe through your nose like he always tells you to, accepting the thickness of his cock into your throat nice and slow. As slow as you possibly can with how eager you are.

Above you, Yoongi lets out a groan. A strangled, breathy thing that spurs you on even more. When your nose reaches the soft trail of hair beneath his belly button, you suddenly feel the weight of his hand on the back of your head. Gentle, just resting there.

You wonder if he’s awake now. You wouldn’t be surprised, but you’ve also seen Yoongi sleep through the combined karaoke efforts of Jimin and Jeongguk. Singing Linkin Park. Loudly.

Still, you focus your efforts on moving now that you’ve taken all of him, chin slick with spit and pre-cum as you slowly start to bob your head, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth as you try to suppress a gag.

“Fuck,” Yoongi says, voice gravelly with sleep. Fuck, his voice. It’s so unfair that just the sound of his voice when he wakes up instantly makes your neglected cunt clench with need.

You feel the bed shift under you, feel his fingers tighten slightly in your hair. You pause and chance a glance up at him through your lashes only to find him now fully awake, moving to sit up against the pillows. Eyes pitch black.

Carefully, you pull off of his cock with a sticky pop, catching your breath for a second. You’re grinning when you look up at him again.

“Good morning.”

“Good fucking morning,” Yoongi practically growls, rubbing at the saliva on your chin with his thumb. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You’d make fun of him for his eagerness, but shit, you are so not in the position to, not with the way your thighs are rubbing together. Instead, you do as he says, surging back down.

“Shit,” he groans, his hand in your hair guiding the wet heat of your mouth up and down the length of his cock now, not bothering to be gentle about it. You’re not taking him as far anymore, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit, not with the way his head falls back against the headboard, bottom lip bitten as he looks at you.

“What a way to wake up,” Yoongi murmurs, grunting when he pushes you a little too far, like he’s reveling in the way it makes you sputter. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

His praise makes you whine around him, your eyes squeezing shut as you force your throat around his cock again, swallowing.

“Good girl, just like that.”

You can tell he’s getting close by the way his thighs tense under you, and you slide the seal of your mouth up on his shaft, fully prepared to wrap your hand around his base and finish what you started. But then—

“C’mere,” Yoongi murmurs, using his hand in your hair to pull you off of his cock, ignoring your pitiful whine as he drags you up into his lap.

“You were about to cum,” you protest, although there’s no heat to it. Not when you can feel the warmth of him against the last scrap of fabric separating you. Not when you can grind down, finally getting the friction you’ve been desperate for since you woke up.

“So?” Deft fingers find the waistband of your panties, wasting no time in slipping underneath. You both groan when he discovers the way you’ve been dripping for him, easily fucking two fingers into your tight heat. “Holy shit, you’re soaked.”

“S’been a long time,” you whine as Yoongi expertly locates that sensitive spot inside of you, rubbing against it at a ruthless pace. “Fuck, Yoongi!”

“Been a long time, huh?” he teases, the picture of calm as he noses the side of your neck. “Weren’t you riding my face just a few days ago, baby?”

“Not the same,” you pant, fingers grasping at his shoulders as he makes you see stars. “N-need your cock, need it so fucking bad, fuck.”

“Yeah? You need it? My mouth isn’t enough for you, is that it?” Yoongi admonishes, chuckling when you shake your head because no, fuck, that isn’t what you meant. “When did my sweet girl turn into such a needy slut for me?”

Oh.

Before you have a chance to react, he surges forward, slotting his lips with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss.

Shit, you’re gonna cum. Embarrassingly fast, but you’re so goddamn worked up, and when he says shit like that—

“I’ve been neglecting you, huh, baby?” he coos as he pulls away, withdrawing his fingers so fast it makes your head spin. You don’t have time to complain though, because then he’s slapping your thigh with a gravelly, “All fours, pretty girl.”

Fuck, yes.

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Eagerly, you clamber out of his lap, immediately shifting yourself into position.

“Look at you,” he huffs, moving behind you to roughly shuck your panties down your legs, the fabric trapped at your knees.

You whine as you feel him run his tip teasingly through your soaked folds, desperate for him to just fucking get on with it already, shit.

“Fuck yeah, you want it so bad,” he groans appreciatively, using his free hand to land a sharp smack on your ass as you try to wiggle back onto his cock. “So fuckin’ desperate for my cock.”

“Stop fucking teasing—”

Your protests cut off into a strangled moan as he buries himself to the hilt in one smooth motion, clutching your sides so roughly you feel like you’ll bruise. “What was that?”

“Yoongi,” you gasp, adjusting to the feeling of being filled by him again, just skin on skin. You swallow harshly as he brings a hand up to your neck, pressing his lips against your clothed shoulder.

“You know what to say, baby,” he purrs, pulling out all the way just to thrust back in again, twice as hard this time.

“Thank you!” you cry out, your eyes rolling back in your head at the combined sensation of his cock filling you and his fingers squeezing your throat. “Fuck, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Yoongi growls, his hips snapping roughly against your ass. “Knew you would remember your manners.”

It’s so good. It’s so fucking good, but it’s not enough, not like this. You can feel the warmth of your impending orgasm spreading through your body already, picking up right where you left off when his fingers were inside you, but you need more.

“Y-Yoongi, please,” you whimper pitifully, pushing your ass back into his movements. “Please, I need—”

“Still not enough for you, huh?” Yoongi says mockingly, his hand sliding down from your neck to grope roughly at your tits through your shirt. “Thought you needed my cock.”

“I-I do, I do,” you sob, grasping at the sheets under you. “I just—”

Your words are cut off by two long digits slipping between your lips. You don’t even fucking think about it as you wrap your lips around them greedily and suck. “There you go,” he coos. “Is that what you needed, baby?”

How the fuck did he know?

Exhaling sharply through your nose, you moan in response, the sound muffled by his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groans, his hips stuttering slightly. “Squeezing around me so tight. You gonna cum, baby?”

Helplessly, you nod, tears welling up in your eyes from the pure pleasure of it as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Then cum,” he growls, using his free hand to push you back down onto your hands before reaching down to rub at your clit.

That’s all you need. Your pussy flutters frantically around him and then you’re cumming hard, drool coating your chin as you cry out around his fingers.

“Shit, holy fuck,” Yoongi moans urgently, pulling the digits from your mouth with a pop as his rhythm falters significantly. “Where do you want it?”

You can’t think, let alone speak, so instead you drop down onto your elbows, arching your back in lieu of an answer. Quickly, he pushes your shirt up to your shoulders and pulls out. You can hear the sound of his urgent strokes, wet and filthy, before he spills onto your back with a groan.

Thoroughly spent, you crumple fully onto the mattress with a whimper, the sounds of Yoongi’s labored breathing filling your ears.

“God,” he huffs, giving your ass one final slap before the mattress dips with his weight next to you. You turn your head to face him, greeted by an exhausted (but still gummy) smile.

“Good morning,” you huff, fond as the pleasant buzz of your orgasm gives way to something softer.

“Good morning yourself.” Yoongi glances at the clock on his bedside table. Because he still uses an analong fucking alarm clock, the grandpa. “You know it’s Saturday, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“And?”

“And, we both totally could’ve slept in.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you would’ve rathered sleep over the sex?” you quip, sitting up on your elbows carefully so as not to spill his release onto the mattress.

“Not at all,” he hums lifting his head to glance at your back appreciatively. “Just making sure you’re aware.”

“Mm.”

“What brought this on?” Yoongi teases, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder gently before moving to stand and pull his underwear back into place, searching for a towel to wipe you down with. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’ve been working a lot,” you explain, closing your eyes as he cleans your back gently. “I wanted to do something nice for you. And I missed you. You know, because I love you. A lot.”

Tossing the towel into the nearby hamper, Yoongi sits on the bed next to you. “I love you too, baby,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You have the weekend off?”

“Mhm,” you hum, content.

“Me too,” he says softly, smiling at you. “Lemme make you breakfast.”

As if on cue, your stomach growls against the mattress, earning an amused snort from Yoongi.

“Yeah, okay,” you concede, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before he gets up again, heading towards the door. “Just let me shower first. I’m all gross because of you.”

Yoongi leans against the doorframe, chuckling darkly as he glances at your half-naked form.

“Might as well not,” he murmurs, tilting his head at you. “I’m nowhere near done with you. We just have to eat first.”

With that, he turns around and opens the bedroom door, leaving you flushed and speechless as he heads to the kitchen to make you breakfast.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @jajabro @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin

@pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @yourfavoritedeluluspot @futuristicenemychaos

@tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 @this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken

@sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne @kimsaerom @bangtangsworld

@angellekookie @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou @perfctlyunstable

@yoonmetogether @kpophosblog

295 notes · View notes

ussgallifrey · 1 year ago

Text

Home for the Holiday | Part 3

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, arguments, fake dating, hurt/comfort, Jake’s family being fake and generally awful towards him, mentions of divorce, mentions of past abuse, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 9.9k

✦ Author’s Note: Hi, has it been over a year since I posted anything for this story? It must be a Christmas miracle! Anyway, this one has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, slowly getting added to every few months. And here we come to the end of Jake's annoying family. The next two chapters will be decidedly happier, I promise.

[Master List]

You’re woken neither by your own internal clock nor the backup alarm on your phone but by the irritated slamming of something across the hotel room. It takes you a second to properly assess the sound as being of the non-dream variety. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you push up onto your elbow to stare into the unsettled darkness.

The golden light from the bathroom spills out into the entryway where a shirtless Hangman seems to be fighting a losing battle with the foldup ironing board.

“You good?” you call out, voice still hoarse with sleep.

His eyes snap up to meet yours, mustering out an almost guilty, “Shit, sorry Pits.”

You wave him off, sitting up properly - the white sheets spilling over your thighs.

The bedside clock informs you that it’s still early in the morning, though not unreasonably so. He had told you the drive to his father’s place would take a while, so it made sense for him to be up at this hour but less so for whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish across the room.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, scratching at the back of your neck as you pad your way over to find out.

“What’s with the iron?”

There’s a seafoam green shirt on the board with a plugged-in iron on its end, that much you can see.

“Damn thing won’t turn on,” he flicks the buttons on the iron up and down, on and off.

Quirking your brow, “You know it takes time to heat up, yeah?”

He pauses, fixing you with an exasperated look, “Fifteen minutes enough for you?”

Throwing your hands up in a defensive hold, you take a step back.

“Shit. Look, I’m not trying to be a total ass here. Just, I didn’t exactly go packing a lot of options and I can’t go wearing what I did yesterday because Josh saw it already - ”

“Got it.”

He sighs in defeat, grabbing hold of the shirt. Giving it a good flap, you can see the clear wrinkles on the front.

For a lazy day in, the shirt would be fine. But this was a family get-together and Jake Seresin was a naval officer. His closet was likely similar to your own when it came to precision-pressed and properly hung items. Wearing this shirt, the way it was, would not fly.

“Well, before you go complain to the front desk - give it here, and let me try something.”

His own brow rises but he ultimately hands it over by the scruff of the collar. Swiping up your toiletry bag, you head into the bathroom, looking over your shoulder to give him a small smile.

“Let’s see if the magic of steam can’t work a miracle on this.”

His features drop in a way that says he hadn’t even considered that as an option before he grins, “Here’s hoping.”

After hanging the shirt on the towel bar, you take an extra long and heated shower. Letting the water massage your back and shoulders with its pressure. You certainly missed the little things like this when you were aboard the carrier. Uninterrupted, hot, lengthy showers where you didn’t feel like it might be a biohazard to touch any surface.

No, this was nice.

And when you step out of the tub and wrap a towel around your middle, you crack the door open to inform Jake that his shirt is just about good to go.

“But I can hit it with the hair dryer still. We got time, right?”

He hums in reply from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him.

Turning on the exhaust fan, you wipe down the steam-covered mirror with a hand towel and go about finishing your routine. Making sure your feet are actually dry, you step back into the room - walking over to your bag in search of another outfit.

Jake had pushed aside the blackout curtains in your absence, filling the room with natural light. He’s sat on the edge of his bed again, but now he has a plain white tank on to go with his jeans. You can hear the faintest clearing of his throat, making you look back at him.

His gaze drifts down your back for a second before he seems to busy himself with his phone again.

“I’m guessing this one is a little more casual?” you ask, pulling out three different shirts.

“Mmm, yeah,” he clears his throat again with a cough, glancing over towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get your shirt out in a minute. I’m just letting the steam work its last bit of magic on it.”

His eyes finally meet yours and he frowns slightly, “I wasn’t - y-yeah… okay.”

And then it seems to dawn on you: you were only wearing a towel.

And while it might be common for the guys of your squadron to walk around shirtless in the gym, or when they were changing out of sweaty flight gear, it wasn’t exactly a frequent occurrence for you to be seen in anything but your usual navy-issued tank and shorts. And while Hangman himself had been in nothing more than a towel yesterday morning, during the rush to get ready, that seemed like an entirely different situation to your own.

Your heart races as you become aware of just how exposed you are right now.

Grabbing hold of your entire bag and muttering out an embarrassed: “Sorry, I’ll just - ” as you hurriedly flee back into the bathroom.

Hangman, for his part, seems too stunned to even form a reply and you can’t exactly blame him.

Jesus, what were you thinking? You might be comfortable around your squadron but nothing over the past two days had elicited that level of comfort between the two of you.

Taking far longer than necessary to choose an outfit and get dressed, you’re slow and methodical about your hair and makeup this time too. Only when your nerves have settled down from the encounter, do you finally grab his shirt and return to the room.

“Well, what do you think?”

You hold the shirt up for him to examine. He nods, standing from his spot on the bed to take hold of it by the shoulders.

“Thank you.”

You just nod, tight-lipped, as you go about putting your bag away in its rightful spot. Jake tugs his arms through the sleeves before heading over to the full-length mirror by the front door. You watch as he methodically rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, creasing the cuff perfectly each time. When he’s done, he twists his watch around - back and forth, a few times.

And then he clears his throat, looking over towards you as you slip on your boots.

“You look good, by the way.”

Slowly, your eyes meet his and you offer him a gentle smile.

“Not too shabby yourself, Bagman.”

He ducks his head down for a second, grinning all the same. But then he’s glancing down at his watch and frowning again, patting his front and back pockets as he checks his EDC.

“You ready to go?”

Rising from the desk chair, you fix him with a questioning look, “Are you?”

With a smirk, he shakes his head. Offering an honest, “No.”

Jake holds the door open for you as you leave the room, heading down to the stairwell. You make an off-hand comment about it not being the way to the free dine-in breakfast. But he just keeps walking and eventually, you're in the parking lot. Slipping into the passenger side of the rental car, you watch as he adjusts the rearview mirror and his own seat.

Before he even starts the ignition, he looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Well, someone wouldn’t let us go down to the lobby for breakfast.”

“Ha,” he chuckles. “Come on, I know a better place.”

Raising your brow as you buckle your seatbelt you say, “I’m intrigued.”

Hangman just grins, grabbing hold of the back of your seat as he backs out of the parking spot.

You're not sure what you expected, but when Jake pulls into a busy Sunoco gas station ten minutes later, you can't help but raise your brow skeptically at him.

“Trust me,” he grins - all teeth - as he snags his aviators from his shirt collar.

“Tell me they have the best donuts around at least,” you call, following him out of the car.

He had parked off to the side, away from the entrance of the food mart. Digging his hands into his jean pockets, he waits for you to meet him on the sidewalk in front of the hood of the rental car.

Grinning with all the smugness of a higher power, he nudges your arm with his elbow and leads the way. Avoiding the building entirely, which makes you even more curious. The two of you round the other side of the gas station where the smell of smoked meat and spice fills the air.

There are two food trucks, a yellow tear-drop-shaped repurposed camper, and a smaller red build. Each has its own canvas tent with tables and chairs set up underneath. Fancy chalkboard signs bring the promise of amazing food as do the long-stretched lines outside of them both.

“Okay,” you admit, “You had me concerned for a second there.”

He chuckles, getting into the yellow truck's line, “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart. Anyway, I wanted to give you the chance of having an Austin staple.”

Well, if the menu wasn't enticing enough for you, then the smell certainly was. You find yourself nearly floating along the line with Jake. After ordering, you grab an empty picnic table to yourselves and proceed to dig into the absolutely massive breakfast burritos.

“Have you eaten here before?” you ask after swallowing another absolutely sinful bite.

“No, actually,” he wipes his mouth with another napkin. “This place didn't exist until two years back. Found it online when you were, uh, getting ready.”

Your chest aches as you recall the awkward encounter from this morning. Slowing your chewing, you manage out a pinched, "Well, god bless online reviews. This is incredible."

After another bite, you rub your lips with the back of your hand, glancing across to meet his gaze - his sunglasses remain folded on the table now, so you're able to see the green of his eyes once again.

“I mean it,” you swallow. “This might be the best breakfast I've ever had.”

He stares for a moment, swallowing his own bite before a slow smile graces his lips.

“Better not let your momma hear you talking like that.”

You laugh, “I'm sure she'd understand.”

Jake gives a warm chuckle, shaking his head, “Hell, think you know more about my family than I do about yours at this point. Not even sure I can remember you ever talking about them.”

Setting the burrito down carefully in the foil wrapper, you contemplate his small accusation. While you had certainly heard your fill of just about everyone else’s families while on deployment, you can’t recall if you really ever dove into talking about your own.

Obviously, you had heard all about Jake’s very extended family at this point. But even you knew about Freud and his weird association with his mom’s current husband - her fifth husband if you were remembering things correctly. Cosmo had a close relationship with his sister Cecilia but not his sister Lucia. Slab had a complicated connection with his adoptive parents but got on okay with his older brother. And so on.

“They’re not very interesting,” you finally settle on.

He raises a single eyebrow, “I highly doubt that.”

“Compared to yours?”

That makes him smirk, “Fair point.”

From there, it takes you a little longer to realize that you’re both eating at a leisurely pace and that Jake isn’t constantly checking his watch or telling you to speed it up. It’s a strange occurrence, given his usual attentiveness for being timely. Jake Seresin lived by the motto that if you’re early, you’re on time and if you’re on time, you’re late.

So, as nearly a full hour of the two of you sitting there and shooting the shit passes, you start to grow the slightest bit concerned. Going on to ask:

“How far did you say your dad’s place was?”

His lips immediately fall into a sort of scowl as you pull him away from a very amusing story about his time in officer’s school.

“Two hours,” comes the almost robotic reply.

“Does that mean we should start, you know, heading out?”

Your breakfast had long since been finished and the wrappers thrown away. Your drinks were little more than melted ice and semi-chewed straws at this point.

After ruffling his hair and twisting his watch around a few times, he finally sighs.

“Yeah, probably.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you slap his shoulder as you finally stand up from the picnic table.

“Come on, Seresin. You got me as your wingman for a second round today. No time like the present.”

Grabbing hold of both of your near-empty drinks, he too lifts his leg over the side of the bench and stands up with a playfully annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now, Pits.”

The ride to his dad’s house is filled with Christmas music played by two different country radio stations. As the odometer slowly creeps up mile by mile, you can see the difference in your companion’s composure. He started out relaxed, almost lounging in his seat. And then it grows more rigid; with his hands clutching the steering wheel like it had personally wronged him.

Last night, the two of you had talked about the upcoming shitstorm of a holiday get-together.

You knew Josh would be there again. But you would also be meeting his other brother, Justin, and his wife and kids of course. And then there was his sister, Jess, and her brood - as he had put it.

Just from the way he talked about his siblings, it was clear that Jake did not get on with - nor keep in close contact with - any of them. He seemed particularly hung up on his sister more so than his older brothers. And while you were sure there was a story - or two - there, you didn’t feel it was the time, or place,to pry.

And then, of course, there was the infamous Mr. Seresin himself. Of him, you knew the least amount of information. Only being told that you should keep your conversations limited if not just nonexistent. You weren’t sure how well that idea would apply in reality, but for your friend’s sake, you promised to keep things to his plan.

As the radio DJ announces yet another Thomas Rhett song, Jake finally hops onto an exit ramp, signaling that you were close to the inevitable get-together.

In almost two hours, you had covered a variety of topics pertaining to work. But seeing the great amount of tension currently attacking your wingman, you finally relent with a different story.

“I got my pilot’s license at seventeen.”

Only because you’re at a stoplight does Jake look over at you, wide-eyed and mouth slightly ajar as the beginnings of a smirk curl into place.

“Do tell.”

You chuckle as he turns the wheel.

“Whole line of aviators, actually. Great-grandpa was a paratrooper during Korea and I guess he just missed the adrenaline when he came back to the States. His son took up commercial flying and my dad got his license just because it seemed like everyone else in the family was doing it.”

“And you?” his sage green eyes meet yours for a quick second before he focuses back on the road ahead of you.

With a shrug, you draw your knee up on the seat and stare out the passenger window. Swatches of dusty farmland and wooden fences pass you by.

“Guess I was always just growing up around them. My grandpa took me flying all the time when my dad was busy working. Did my first solo ride at fifteen in a glider and got my license two years later.”

You can see his grin from out of your peripheral and count it as a victory.

“Any other incredible talents you’ve kept hidden under that smartass exterior?”

“Hey!” you gently slap his arm, pulling a fake pout. “If there was, I’m not telling you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he bites his lip, tapping the steering wheel as a sense of ease washes over him. “I’ll play nice.”

With a roll of your eyes, you mutter under your breath, “Fat fucking chance.”

There’s a seemingly dramatic sigh from him which is immediately followed by a hand being jabbed into your flank and a screech of laughter erupting from your lips as Jake proceeds to tickle your side.

“G-god fuckin- STOP, y-you asshole,” you try to squirm away from his touch, but his fingers seem to know your exact weak points and there’s only so far you can scramble away.

“Give it up, Pita,” he croons sweetly, still somehow managing to drive the car steadily down the road with his left hand.

“Mercy! Mer-cy, you jackass!”

You shove at his hand until he finally relents. Absolutely beaming as he looks over at you, unable to stop his own chuckle from seeing the state of you. He sighs, the bubble of laughter on his lips as he turns down a dirt road.

“Sure know how to distract a guy.”

With a huff of indignation, you say, “I’m sure there’s more alluring ways to do that.”

Only when Jake chokes on his own spit do you throw your head back in a howl of laughter.

“Christ, the look on your face, Seresin.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, catching your gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Cause we’re almost there.”

That does seem to sober you both up almost instantly.

The radio sways in and out between bits of static break-up. As the houses fall further and further back from the road, it seems like you’re looking at nothing but straight-up copper-dusted fields.

Hangman leans forward on the wheel as he peers out at the stretch of dirt road, checking the numbers on the mailboxes that pop up every mile. And then, at last, he finally slows the car down to a steady roll.

And while Lady A is singing about it being an absolutely Wonderful Christmastime, you watch as all signs of joy seem to drain from your friend’s face as he turns onto the long-winding drive of his father’s ranch. The tires kick up dirt and pebbles, leaving a trail of dust in your wake. You’re jostled in your seat from the rough terrain of the unpaved driveway.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking doing this,” he murmurs, staring up ahead at the trucks already parked next to the white barn.

The house itself is a massive ranch-style home, with wood siding that almost makes it look like an older cabin. But the windows are clearly modern and sleek. It was no question at all that Jake’s father had some serious money to his name here. If the accompanying acres of farmland weren’t already a dead giveaway.

You wait for him to park, killing the ignition and resting his arms on the steering wheel with a resigned look in place of his usually bright eyes.

“When, uh, when was the last time you were here?”

With a sigh, his chin resting on the wheel now too as he stares up at the sprawling house.

“All the time as a kid. It was my granddad’s. Went on to my uncle until he ran himself straight into debt from all the gambling and drinking. Then this one - ” he jerks his head in the general direction of the house once again, “ - got it passed onto him. Haven’t been back since my granddad passed. So maybe… fourteen years?”

With a singular blink, you mutter an equally pressed, “Jesus, Seresin.”

“Yeah, well…” he just shakes his head, having already given you the gist of everything last night. No point in rehashing old news.

“Looks like everyone is here,” you comment after glancing around at the other numerous vehicles in the drive.

He nods, finally pulling the keys from the ignition and swinging the chain into his hand.

You follow him up the path to the front porch – a once beautiful piece of craftsmanship now deteriorating and stained. The floorboards of the deck squeak under your shoes and a handful of the railings seem to be either broken-off or missing entirely. A black bear carved out of wood greets you both with a simple welcome sign held in its fur-textured paws.

Jake gives a solid rap to the door before he grabs hold of the handle and shoves it open. More of a courtesy knock than anything.

With a little squeeze to his bicep, you give him your best encouraging nod and follow after him as he slides through the entryway where a massive pile of boots and shoes has been deposited.

You’re only afforded a sliver of a proper view into the main living space, but the noise level is already on par with an F18 ready to take off from the flight deck.

As you kick off your shoes into the sprawling mess of footwear, you’re assaulted by the sound of screaming children, raucous cheers, a football announcer blasting through surround-sound speakers, and the faint twang of Christmas music radiating out from a speaker somewhere in the middle of it all.

Mixed with the pungent smell of sweat-soaked shoes and rosemary-scented turkey roasting in an oven, you reach out to grab hold of Jake’s arm – simply from the overwhelming amount of things happening all around you before you even see a single person.

“You good?” he murmurs, a shocking amount of concern etched onto his usually playful features.

“Mhmm,” you manage.

A warm hand eases its way onto the small of your back and you feel the madness fall into a pinpoint tunnel where it’s easily manageable and not so disconcerting.

“Never better,” said through a set of clenched teeth is all you can work up for him.

With another squeeze to his arm, you allow Jake to guide you – by the hand still on your lower back – down the front hall to the large open-plan living space. To your left, several women lean against the russet-colored cabinets, with glasses of dark red wine in hand and ringing laughs as short blonde-haired children weave their way through the space.

To the right, near the stone fireplace sits the majority of the men on overstuffed leather couches and recliners as they stare up, with rapt attention, at the game currently projected on the large flat screen mounted above the mantel.

“Uncle Jake!”

Your eyes lock onto the blur of yellow and red that comes charging toward you both. Stepping out of the fray, you watch as your companion drops to his knees to scoop up the girl with the maroon ribbons laced through her platinum hair.

“Kenna Kenna Kenna,” he grins, grabbing hold of the young girl around her waist as he hefts her up and swings her back and forth in his embrace.

A smile that you can’t seem to control graces your lips as you watch the scene play out.

Oh, the guys back on the carrier would kill to see this side of Hangman right now. What a privilege it was for you to bear witness to.

From over his shoulder, you’re presented with the curious brown eyes of the girl who then jabs her hand against Jake’s chest and demands:

“Who’s that?”

You watch as your companion’s grin slips down for just a brief second before he forces a tight smile.

“That,” comes the familiar voice of the older Seresin brother, who rises from one of the leather recliners with a beer in hand, and a too-smug smile on his face. “Is Uncle Jackie’s girlfriend.”

The girl gasps, staring up at Jake with a pure look of wonderment, “You have a girlfriend?”

Out of instinct alone, you wrap a hand around his right arm – encouraging the act from him.

“I do,” he nods at last, glancing over at you with those piercing green eyes. And then he’s laughing, dropping the girl back down onto her feet as he says, “God, when’d you get so big?”

“Probably sometime between your last visit and now.”

Your gaze snaps over to the woman in a denim blouse in the kitchen area, swirling her wine before she finishes it off.

If you had to take a guess...

“Jess,” he greets, short and to the point with a curt nod of his head.

Bingo.

As the girl, Kenna, skirts off to join the other kids currently hanging back by the patio doors near the massive Christmas tree, another man wanders over. Similar to Josh and Jake, he’s got dimpled cheeks, darker blonde hair, and a distinctive swagger to his walk.

“Hey man,” he claps Hangman on the shoulder, presenting him with a bottle of beer in his other hand. “Long time no fucking see. Look good though.”

Jake takes hold of the drink before he slinks his arm back around your waist, guiding you forward and into his side.

“Justin,” he nods, half in greeting, and half in explanation for your current confusion.

Ah, brother number two.

“And you’re the mysterious girlfriend,” his eyes slip past his brother to land firmly upon your face.

You offer your hand in return, along with your name.

“Never thought we’d see the day,” he grins in return. And then he’s backing away, gesturing toward the fridge, “Something to drink? Beer, wine, Coke?”

Surrounded by so many people who all seem to be particularly interested in scrutinizing your every move, you merely shake your head, “Think I’m good for now, thanks.”

Jake squeezes your side and you look to your left to see him already staring down at you with a soft smile. Emboldened by his apparent approval, you begin to make your rounds with him never far from reach.

You’re introduced, quickly, to Gwen. His bubbly stepmother with dark roots and straw-colored hair who hands you a glass of wine without taking no for an answer. She’s brightness personified and the definition of a doting host. Beside her stands a rather quiet fixture in the kitchen.

Marissa is the curly-haired young wife of Justin Seresin. She watches on with a bottle held between her chipped-red nails as Jess hollers at Kenna from across the room when she tries to drop a handful of slime on her uncle’s head.

The woman remains silent, though she holds an amused smile, as she watches the madness of her inlaws take place. There’s a brood of children that moves and weaves through the adults who remain largely indifferent to their antics.

From the countertop, where an array of appetizers are laid out, you watch as the two seven-year-old twins – Dawson and Dixon – gulf down scoops and scoops of bean dip. While their sister - Brynlee, as Jake’s stepmother manages to tell you over the noise of the get-together – seems content to cling to Marissa’s pant leg as she stares up at the towering adults overhead.

Your nerves begin to ease as a sort of familiar feeling washes over you. If you convinced yourself hard enough, you could almost pretend this was one of your mom’s extended family reunions.

Sure, you weren’t well-acquainted with everyone yet. But if you forced a good smile and made an effort to be courteous, you were sure you could get through the ordeal without tarnishing your wingman’s reputation.

Slowly, Jake guides you through the room, until, at last, you’re sat on the armrest of one of the leather recliners, watching with distant interest as the announcers recount the last play in the game before halftime.

“So, you gonna introduce us properly?”

Your eyes shift toward the couch where you spot the gray-haired tresses and stern sun-baked face of Daniel Seresin. Your companion, who had been standing off to the side of the living room speaking in quiet conversation with his eldest brother, seems to straighten up to full attention as if an admiral had just entered the room.

With a twinge of discomfort, your gaze tracks Jake as he strides over to you, a hand resting on your shoulder when he finally comes to a stop. You can feel his breath on your neck, the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

In a rigid tone bordering on inspection-line worthy, he introduces you by name and rank to his father.

A smile flits across the older man’s face as he beams up at you, rising from his lounged position on the couch to properly shake your hand. He looks the part of a typical rancher with his light-washed jeans and buttoned-down shirt tucked in with a flashy belt buckle.

“Real pleasure to meet you,” he grins. His hand is large, calloused by years of work. “I can’t tell you the last time Jake mentioned a girl catching his interest. Isn’t that right, buddy?”

You feel rather than hear the clipped mhmm that Jake gives in return. His gaze remains largely focused on the wall behind his father where an array of framed family photos resides. Never affording the man with the respect of holding his gaze.

Daniel claps your shoulder warmly and invites you to sit down with promises of their dinner being a real feast.

“She’s a saint, Gwen,” he tells you as you resume your position on the side of the armrest.

Jake, pointedly, slouches down in the actual recliner, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle as he stares – unseeing – at the TV.

“Hell, damn near blew myself up last year with the fryer. Don’t think she’ll let me in the kitchen, will ya, honey?”

He shouts the last part, to be heard over the crowd. Followed by a ringing you bet your ass I won’t coming from the vicinity of the stove.

You watch as Josh shakes his head in amusement, cradling a wriggly toddler in his arms. But your attention ultimately falls to the man seated to the side of you. Lost in his thoughts, trapped in his own head.

Reaching down with a tentative hand, you squeeze his fingers with your own.

It takes a minute, but then those welcomed meadow-green eyes meet your gaze and you can almost see the momentary relief that crosses his face as he squeezes your hand in return.

Dinner at the Seresin house is a decidedly casual affair in comparison to the meal you had shared with Patricia the day before. Gwen dishes out the seasonal fixings onto Christmas-themed heavy-duty disposable plates. Accompanied by wrapped bundles of plastic cutlery in Santa Claus paper napkins.

Balancing your plate on your lap is a true feat of talent as you’re the main entry and exit point to the kitchen, still settled on the armrest beside Jake.

The nieces and nephews, all eight of them, are situated on the floor on a big fleece blanket that quickly becomes an absorbent towel for their stray food bits more than anything else. Your hostess has the foresight to turn the game down to a more reasonable level, though the noise in the living room is still on par with a jet engine firing.

You find yourself shouting to be heard whenever anyone graces you with a question, which isn’t many... at first.

“ - anyway, after he pulled them over,” Jess continues her story about her husband, Nick: the Statetrooper. “He told them that he – god damnit! MacKenna Jaymes, are you or are you not watching your sister?”

Your attention, involuntary, falls to the oldest grandchild who has a mouth full of food as she stares helplessly at her younger sister who’s let her plate slip and spill all over the blanket.

“Fucking Christ,” Jake scoffs in heated breath, too quiet for anyone besides you to hear. His anger isn’t directed at his niece, of course, but at his sister.

Shoving his plate onto the other armrest, he peels himself up from the chair and crouches down to the oblivious toddler who has orange cheese sauce all around her lips – which he wipes clean with a napkin.

Jess, for her part, rolls her eyes and continues on with a biting tone about children needing to take care of their own messes. But Jake merely scoops up the girl’s food and settles the plate back down on the floor in front of her with a gentle ruffle of her sweet blonde locks.

You hold his plate for him when he returns to the chair, running a hand through his own hair.

“Thanks, honey,” he says in a cadence so natural it almost makes you drop his plate.

When he’s settled, you chance a look at him before you find your gaze trailing over to the far too smug brother seated on the chair adjacent to yours.

“See? This is the shit I was talking about last night,” he waggles a finger between the two of you as an example.

“Dad, do you remember when he brought over that girl? God, Jackie, what was her fuckin’ name?” Josh perks up, sitting on the edge of the cushion as he grabs his father’s attention, and, inadvertently, Jake’s as well.

“Oh, gosh,” Daniel starts, slapping his knee in thought as he stares up at the ceiling for the answer.

After a beat, you hear the soft utterance of, “Sarah.”

You glance down at Jake who keeps his head bowed under the weight of old memories.

Josh snaps his fingers, “That’s it! Fucking head cheerleader wrapped around his damn finger and did he even spare the girl a glance? I swear to God, he - ”

“Christ, can you knock it off with the swearing already?” Jess snaps.

The mischievous brother merely grins at you in a way that seems to say you see what I’m dealing with here?

“Must be all that growing up that’s got you so enamored.”

Settling your hand on Jake’s left shoulder, you give him a reasurring squeeze. You’d already dealt with his brother’s annoying antics and personality last night, what was a few more hours of unending torture under a familial microscope?

He lets out a long ragged breath, but you can feel his shoulders loosen marginally.

You almost miss the biting sound of the Seresin sister when she mutters, “Doubt it.”

But Jake doesn’t.

And he latches on to it like an enemy target on his radar system.

“Something you wanna say?”

The room falls to a stifling silence like the distant whistle of a falling shell about to make impact. You fear for the fallout from the impending crater.

She has the audacity to look aghast, a hand held to her heart in surprise as she manages to finish off her potato salad in one quick bite.

“Jacob. If you can’t say something nice, you don’t say anything at all.”

“And yet you always manage,” comes his lightning-quick response.

“Well,” she drawls. “On a holy day like Christmas, I think you can find a way to keep your opinions sealed up.”

The other occupants watch the sparring of words like a tennis volley. But someone seems to have had enough.

“Oh, bless your heart dear!” Gwen says, standing quickly from her position on the couch beside her husband as she makes her way over to you. “You’re all out of casserole. Come on, now. Let’s get you fixed back up.”

Your chest tightens as you’re literally pulled to your feet by the determined woman, who quickly leads you into the depths of the kitchen. The words from the two siblings are still just as biting, but slowly the trickle of grandchildren also make their way into the kitchen.

Just another Christmas get-together for them as the grown-ups row.

As Gwen tops your plate to the point of sagging with more food, you watch MacKenna as she settles her younger sister on her hip while holding a hand on top of the toddler’s head.

“You’ve got your hands full,” you manage to say, hoping the smile you offer her isn’t tight with worry as the noise in the living room continues to grow.

The girl shrugs, as much as she can with a one-year-old in her arms. She tracks her siblings as they settle onto the hightop stools and begin to rummage through the lower cabinets.

Josh has his hands out as he tries to delegate between the bickering siblings, but Justin and Marissa just have the peace of mind to leave the scene altogether – also journeying over to the sanctuary of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” the eldest brother says to you, leaning on the counter as he carefully pushes his twin sons away from the bowl of Chex mix. “They always get into it when they’re together. Has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh,” is all you can say in return.

“Here, hun,” his wife says to the nine-year-old struggling to hold onto her baby sister any longer. “Give your arms a break.”

With a handful of chips in his mouth, Justin points at his wife, “We’re not having another one.”

She nods congenially, patting the baby’s back with her hand, “I know that.”

Jess is on her feet now, pointing a dangerous finger at Jake, but you feel rooted to the spot because this was never a discussed topic of possible scenarios between the two of you back at the hotel.

“Abandoning your fucking family because you have goddamn daddy issues. Get the fuck over yourself, Jacob!”

For all the hostility his sister throws his way, your companion remains level and coolheaded as always.

He stares up at her with a perfectly blank face, “Can’t go one damn holiday without throwing a tantrum can you?”

Gwen coughs, pulling your attention away for just a moment as she all but shoves a platter of cookies in your face.

“Want one? Got more than the two of us can eat here. I made peanut butter, peppermint, pecan – ”

“ - and you think you can just show up here like it’s all water under the bridge and everything’s fine and dandy just because you have a girl on your arm? That doesn’t make up for the last decade of your shit.”

You take a step toward the living room, where even Josh has shrunken down onto the couch with his head between his hands. Daniel remains completely stock still as he watches the seemingly one-sided fight drag on.

“Just ‘cause you found the first broad to give you the time of day, doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here and – ”

Before you can even register the words, Jake is on his feet.

Staring down at his sister with a heaving chest and balled fists.

You break away from the cluster of family members as you make your way to his side. Tentatively, you reach for his hand – easing his fingers away until you can entwine your hands together. His nostrils flare as words that have been building up since childhood begin to battle their way up to his lips, but it all comes to a halt when you murmur a gentle:

“Baby?”

With a slow turn of his head, he looks down at you – fight dissipating from his eyes as you squeeze his hand. Giving a gentle tug, Jake follows you over to the sliding doors of the back deck.

Behind you, you can hear Josh give an admonishing, “Never known when to close your massive fucking trap, do you?”

But you push aside the door and lead your wingman into the fresh afternoon air before you can hear her likely cutting response.

Having no real idea of the lay of the land, you pull him down the back steps and find yourself traversing a small pebble path around the back of the house. Jake, still in a state of silence, allows you to guide him forward without so much as a peep.

Near the back wooden cattle fence dividing the backyard from the actual farm property, you stop under the shade of a large tree. The billowing branches bring not only cool shade but a sense of privacy away from the prying eyes of the bickering family inside.

Releasing your grip on his hand, Jack takes a few unsteady steps forward before he drops down onto a faded old wooden porch swing. It creaks under his weight but seems sturdy enough as he eases his heels into the ground and pushes back and forth.

You stand there, staring out at the vast fields for a long long moment before you hear your name whispered into the breeze.

Turning back to your wingman, you take a seat beside him, your knees brushing as he continues to make the old swing sway.

Out here, if you close your eyes, you can almost imagine you’re in the cockpit on a smooth return flight. The only noise comes from the gentle breeze drooping over the tall grass that bends like ripples in the water.

But your attention ultimately falls to your friend. With his knuckles gripped white on his knees, his head bowed down with his shoulders hunched high to protect him.

This version of Hangman would never be seen by your squadron, nor would it ever be mentioned.

With a steadying breath, your voice cracking as you force out the words, you say, “I have a soft spot for disco music.”

It takes a second for the words to register, but Jake slowly lifts his head and stares at you with pure confusion.

“What?”

“Disco. It’s my... thing? And I’m swearing you to fucking secrecy, Bagman. But... I belt out ABBA songs when I’m alone. Donna Summers too.”

The making of a grin begins to form on the corner of his lips.

“I’ve got it bad for the Bee Gees.”

His brow raises ever so slightly.

“Do those private serenades also include a dance number?”

With a bark of laughter, you tuck your hands between your knees as he rocks you further back on the wide swing.

“Oh, absolutely.”

When you look up, you find his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. But not in a harsh way. More like you were a puzzle he was just only now figuring out the missing pieces of.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Giving a shrug, you say, “Because I wanted to. Also, no one will ever believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence before his lips tug up into a radiant smile that has him shaking his head.

“God damnit, you’re right.”

You let your left shoulder bump into his right as his laughter slowly ebbs away to silence once again.

He spares the house a furrowed expression before he lets out a slow exhale of breath.

“This thing,” he starts, twisting his watch back and forth on his wrist. “Between me and Jess, it goes back years.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” you assure him with a soft utterance.

But he presses forward despite it.

“Josh and Justin were already out by the time things got bad. Just me and her in the house. Not that she paid much mind. She was ‘bout to graduate and I was just some snot-nosed ten-year-old.”

He eases into the swing, dipping his head back over the headrest to stare up at the swaying green leaves above the two of you. You find yourself turning to face him, pulling your left knee up onto the seat.

“Mom started drinking ‘round then after she found out he was fucking his bowling buddy. Had been, for the last two years or so. But Jess didn’t know that shit, just saw Mom passed out on the couch with an empty bottle on the floor.”

Jake shakes his head, pushing away the memory.

“They never said it to my face, but I know. I was the save the marriage baby.”

“Jake...”

Offering you a tight grimace, he continues.

“Spoiled as hell, got whatever I wanted and then some. Private school, the works. Brothers didn’t care much, but Jess...” he trails off.

Your hand settles onto his forearm, offering a squeeze of comfort when your own words fail you. He dips his chin in return, welcoming the touch of familiarity.

“That’s what I meant by it the other day. They sided with him and I went along with her because I found out what was really happening. Don’t get me wrong, Gwen’s a good lady and the two of them are better off divorced. But... put a wedge between me and the three of them.”

Clearing your throat, you ask, “Is that why you left to join up?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Couldn’t fucking stand to be around either of them by the time I graduated. Just wanted to start over, do something for myself on my own terms.”

And then he scrubs his palm over his face, wincing as he does so.

“Christ, I don’t know why I’m fucking telling you any of this.”

“I said you didn’t have to, you know,” you nudge him with a teasing tone.

With a look of pure exasperation, he holds his hands out like a confession, “Got me bleeding my heart out here like I’m Freeze or something, Pits.”

“Eh,” you sigh, twisting your body to pull up both of your legs onto the bench – only to deposit them both right across Jake’s lap with little fanfare. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.”

Something funny flits over his features for a moment before he places his hand over your calf and resumes his gentle rocking of the swing.

Eventually, you both manage to peel yourselves off the swing and wander back into the house. Jake says something about being completely okay with ditching the whole thing and heading back to the rental car. But you have to remind him that your shoes are still currently lost in the massive pile in the front entryway.

He then tries to convince you to leave them, going so far as to say he’ll buy you a new pair before your flight.

But, reluctant as he is, you walk hand-in-hand back into the house. You get lost in the excitement of the kids who want to open up all their presents right this very second and it seems like, for the moment at least, the fight has been put on hold to allow the true joy of Christmas to take place.

Though Jake and his sister remain on opposite sides of the room for the entire duration of the madness that is eight kids scrambling to unwrap their numerous presents the fastest.

While Justin plays the role of gift hander-outer, Jess lounges on a barstool in the kitchen, watching the mess play out with a stink eye. Jake, for all his hold-ups on the day, also drops to his knees to help the younger nieces unwrap their gifts.

Which leaves you, surprisingly, with a small bundle of drooling baby in your arms since her own mother would rather watch from afar than interact with her own children.

June is happy to suck on the left foot of her new stuffed buddy, lounging out in your lap as you rock the recliner back and forth. Jake shoots you several amused glances before he gets tugged into the decidedly un-fun realm of opening up all the plastic-wrapped toys for the kids.

The living room floor is heaped with wrapping paper and ribbons, loose twist ties, and chunks of cardboard and plastic molds by the time he returns to your side. This time, he’s the one resting on the armrest as he gently taps the snoozing baby’s foot with his fingers.

“Out like a light.”

“No better way to celebrate the day,” you agree.

The sleeping babe must be used to the chaos that is the Seresin family, as her siblings and cousins run amok with their new toys that beep and jingle. Tiny feet thundering against the hardwood floors as they zoom up and down the long hallway separating the living area from the rest of the house.

“Now that’s a picture if I’ve ever seen one.”

You lift your gaze to Gwen as she rounds the corner, a wine glass in hand as she settles in next to Daniel on the couch across from the three of you.

“Think you two will ever settle down stateside?” he asks with a true glimmer of hope in his graveled voice.

Jake winces, hand falling to your inner thigh for support.

“I, uhm, I could never ask Jake to put his career on hold for that,” you find yourself saying.

“Same for you,” he adds a second later.

Gwen, for her part, gives an understanding nod – settling a hand on her husband’s arm to stifle the topic down.

“How long have you two been flying together?”

Your wingman seeks out your gaze as the two of you mentally run through the tangle of memories.

“Three, almost four years now?”

“Mhmm.”

“And what set this all off, if you don’t mind me prying?”

Jake clears his throat, and you have to turn your head to hide the beginnings of laughter that bubble up to the surface. He shifts his weight, draping his right arm over the back of the chair, a finger playfully tugs at the fabric of your shirt.

“It was after a mission debrief. Fourteen hours, dead on our feet,” the story, completely fabricated, comes to him with a true sense of ease.

“And, I dunno. Everyone was shuffling outta the room and I just looked over and saw Pita and thought...”

At the pause, you turn your face to look up at him only to find his softened eyes seeking you out.

“Wow. I can’t have this girl out of my life.”

That piercing expression nearly takes your breath away and you want to applaud Jake for his terrific acting on the fly.

Pulling your gaze back to the seated couple, you add, in jest, “I’m sure my greasy hair and flight suit was what did it for him.”

“Hundred percent!” he grins, tugging a strand of your hair.

At some point, the others filter back into the room and Marissa kindly takes the snoozing June from you. You have to shake out your arms just to return the blood circulation. Who knew kids that little could be that heavy?

And while you get lost in the rushed conversation of two seven-year-olds trying to tell you all about the mechanical workings of their new RC cars, Daniel pushes up from the couch and weaves his way over to Jake, before saying something in his ear. You can feel the way he goes rigid as he slips his arm away from you and slowly stands and follows after his father.

You watch as the two men disappear down the hall, toward one of the bedrooms or office from the looks of it. A cold dredge of worry washes over you, cooling your insides and twisting your stomach into another uncomfortable slosh of concern. He had just started smiling again.

“He’s really got you bad, doesn’t he?”

Pulling your gaze away from the empty hall, you find the piercing eyes of Josh inspecting your face as he leans across his chair to speak to you.

“You. You’re worried about him.”

“Comes with the job,” you say.

A smirk tugs his lips into a twisted look as he too glances down the hallway.

“He’ll be fine. Little testy with whatever Dad’s about to try pulling. Won’t be too surprised if that’s the end of our little visit.”

Your brows pinch, “That bad?”

He chuckles, easing back into his recliner, “Always.”

You try to focus on the happy children occupied with their new toys and the soft lull of the TV sportscaster, but you find your primary focus pulled toward the long empty hallway.

He had told you all about the history between him and his old man, both in the backyard confessional an hour prior and the day you arrived in Austin. Yet now your mind was conjuring up worse and worse scenarios of what was happening in a closed-door room several feet away.

Another few minutes pass where you try your best to ignore what could be transpiring a few yards away, but the sound of a door opening followed by a pleading voice saying:

“Jacob, come on now. Jake. Jake.”

You crane your head just in time to see your companion striding down the hallway, directly toward you – pushing both Justin and Gwen gently out of his way. You’re on your feet by the time he reaches you and before you can even ask are you okay, he’s grabbing hold of your arm.

“Think we’re done here, sweetheart.”

Trying to get a read from his expression alone is useless, so you merely nod in return.

“Okay.”

As Jake directs you toward the entryway once again, with a trail of family members walking a few steps behind you both in silent anticipation, Daniel Seresin finally makes a reappearance.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he just shakes his head in return to his wife’s questioning look.

Hangman can’t seem to move fast enough, even as the nieces creep past you to get to him.

“Are you leaving now, Uncle Jake?”

“When am I gonna see you again?”

He’s halfway between tying his left boot when he looks up at the little faces curled with worry and childhood innocence. Frozen, unable to find the right words to explain his hasty escape as he peers up and over their heads at his father standing silently at the end of the hall.

“Oh, that’s my fault, I’m afraid,” you say, leaning down to grab your own boots as three braided-blonde heads turn to look up at you.

“We need to hurry to the airport to catch our flight, don’t we, honey?”

A flash of gratitude in his eyes and a slow exhale has Jake nodding, quick to play along to your tune.

“That’s right, sweetheart. We have to go see Pita’s family now. Wouldn’t be fair to keep her away on Christmas, yeah?”

Shelby clings to his leg, her face squished into his thigh as she murmurs, “But I’ll miss you.”

Jake shoots you a clear help me look, but your rescue comes in the shape of Josh Seresin who swoops in and collects the five-year-old up into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from Uncle Jackie soon. Won’t you?”

Your companion gives a fast nod, “That’s right, kiddo. Soon as we’re back on the carrier, I’m gonna call you right up.”

The little girl peers over her uncle’s shoulder and you meet her soft gaze.

“And Pita too?”

Jake almost laughs, but he curves it into a smile instead.

“Yeah, her too, honey.”

Oh, your breakup in a few weeks was gonna be fun to talk through with a kindergartner.

Pushing that thought from your head, you righten your boot into place and fall back into Jake’s easy embrace, his hand finding a too-familiar spot on your waist.

The drive back to the city is shared in silence with only the familiar Christmas tunes from the radio there to fill the void between you both. And even then, the holiday spirit has already seeped out of the vehicle and into the vast countryside. No amount of classic jingles could fix that at this point.

When you arrive back at the hotel, it’s as though you’re waiting for the missile to hit. That weapon of course being Jake himself.

But the man in question is as silent as ever as he drops down onto the edge of his bed. Too tired to even remove his boots as you carefully tread around him to take care of your own shoes.

His silence makes you even more cautious in your moves, tiptoeing across the carpet to your bag and back again. Afraid to make any noise that could set him off. Oh, you could handle the fallout, of course. You’re just not sure if he could at this point.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed in your sleepwear, Jake is lying flat on his back with his legs hanging over the edge. His eyes open and staring, almost unseeing, at the popcorn ceiling.

After spending a moment to assess your situation, you unceremoniously flop down on the bed beside him, a hand plopping down on his right knee.

And there you sit, in the stillness of the hotel room for a series of long-passing minutes. You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, curling your fingers tighter and then looser on his jean-clad knee. Until, at last, he speaks.

“Should have never did this to you.”

You wait until his eyes land on you before you respond.

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.”

It takes a second, but he eases up onto his elbows.

“I’m serious. Yesterday with my mom was one thing. But this shit? Today? God,” he drags a hand down his face in annoyance.

Releasing a breath, you lay down beside him on the bed. He stares down at you for a long moment before he falls back down next to you.

“I told you, I don’t care. I agreed to this entire insane endeavor and I told you I was gonna see it through no matter what. So, lose the bullshit grief, and don’t worry about me.”

Tugging on the loose fabric of his seafoam-colored button-down, you give him the space to respond or not. Hell, you were gonna be the last person to try and press the man for anything right now.

“I just...” he exhales, resting a hand on his chest. “I dragged you across the country, away from your own damn family, just to do this.”

Rising up slightly so you can stare down at him, you retort, “Which I agreed to. If I didn’t want to do this for you, do you honestly think you could force me to do any of this? Honestly?”

Jake glances back at the ceiling before a smile graces his lips.

“Hell no.”

“Exactly,” you reply, dropping back down.

“Well... at least it’s over.”

You hum in response.

Come morning, you would take the rental car back to the airport and board separate flights. You up to Michigan and Jake back to California. You would enjoy a family-filled holiday and he would be...

Your stomach turns at the thought.

Alone.

After everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours, after all that he was dragged through. Jake would be alone come Christmas day. Alone with his own damn thoughts and whatever reemerged trauma that came with this particular visit produced.

Maybe that’s why, after several more minutes have passed you both by, that you turn toward him and say:

“Do you... I don’t – well, that is to say, uhm...”

You can feel the look he gives you but you have to crane your neck back to properly look him in the eyes. There’s something there in the meadow green of his irises that emboldens you – allowing the words to come easily.

“Jake, would you like to come home with me for Christmas?”

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

234 notes · View notes

aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen · 7 months ago

Text

I don’t like how the Sokeefe confession went down, because it felt so abrupt compared to the build up of the series.

I think this because the whole series it’s Keefe who’s loved Sophie since the beginning, Keefe who hinted his feelings and flirted with her, and Keefe who couldn’t confess. And it was Sophie who couldn’t figure out her feelings and was oblivious to his. So it felt strange that though Keefe technically confessed first in the letter he left, it was Sophie who initiated the actual confession.

I understand that all the build up for Sophie confessing was in Stellarlune, but it just didn’t fit with the rest of the series, and honestly, felt unfair to Keefe (from a readers stand point, I’m sure he’s very happy in cannon). He should have been the one to confess.

I’ve heard people complaining that Chapter 42 was written like a fan fiction, and I disagree with this statement for two reasons, one that I think this is supposed to be insulting the actual writing of the scene, and I would never insult Shannon Messangers writing, and two because I don’t like to spread that fanfic writing is bad because fan fiction can have some amazing writing.

However I can see the similarities to Chapter 42 and fanfiction. As an avid reader of fanfiction, a reader can tell when the fanfic author is just writing a confession as a way to get the characters to kiss, the confession may be abrupt without a lot of build up, but also may just be very easy and quick. And that’s sort of how I felt reading the Sokeefe confession. It felt too easy for all the build up and angst and unrequited but eventually requited love that is Sokeefe.

Keefe should have been the one to confess, and Sophie should of had a harder time accepting feelings instead of pining for Keefe the entirety (?) or Stellarlune, and it should have been more difficult. Also Ro shouldn’t have been peer pressuring Sophie….

….And that’s the real controversial take here. Because, I do genuinely believe Sophie likes Keefe in cannon. I’m not a big Sokeefe shipper but I saw where this was going throughout the series. However in cannon, to the reader, it looks like Ro had to convince Sophie that she liked Keefe, and even if I think she does, it still feels like peer pressure when reading it. And I think Keefe would also be disappointed if he heard that it was Ro who convinced Sophie that she like him, because it should have been Sophie battling with her own feelings, not Ro telling her how she feels (regardless of if she was correct).

If I were to rewrite the Sokeefe part of Stellarlune, I would’ve have Sophie understanding that part of the letter, but pushing down her feelings and choosing to be oblivious in order to avoid facing her feelings when she already has so much going on. Have her think about Keefe while he’s gone, and be jealous of Biana (or suspicious whatever you’d call it) in that one scene but have her obviously be falsely justifying it in order to push down those romantic feelings.

Then when she does find Keefe, make her avoid mentioning the letter at all costs. Have it hang over their heads at every moment their alone together, have it be awkward. Then, on accident have her mention the letter. Let there be a pause.

Let Keefe be a bit bitter about Sophie refusing to acknowledge anything. Have him be all like “oh so you did see the letter.”

Have Sophie still refuse to talk about it. “yeah, I guess I was so distracted with trying to find you I didn’t really think about it (lying). was there anything important in there?”

Have Keefe’s eyes turn dark “no, I guess not. (lying)” and have him rudely stalk of.

Then later have them doing something for the black swan with their friends, looking over scrolls, idk research or something.

Have Sophie be frustrated after the scrolls don’t tell them anything important. “why can’t the author of these just tell us what this means?” She should grumble

And Keefe should say “well maybe you should read between the lines to figure out what they mean.”

Sophie throws down the scroll in her hands “well maybe people should just say what they mean instead of writing it down in a way that can mean anything!!” Keefe sets down his scroll, walking off outside. No one else knows what’s going on but Sophie sighs and follows him out.

“Keefe! Wait!” She shouts. Keefe would whirl around, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t you think I’ve waited long enough?”

Sophie stares at him, surprised that he’s crying.

“I’ve waited this whole time to because I didn’t want to pressure you. But you can’t even acknowledge it.”

“Because I don’t know what “it” is! You left, and you leave me this note, and I’m just supposed to understand what it means?”

“You know what it means! Why else would I write it?”

“You wrote it because you were leaving-“

“I WROTE IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU”

“YOU WROTE IT BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER SEE ME AGAIN!”

Suddenly there are tears in Sophie’s eyes too. “You’re accusing me of avoiding all this but you were just as willing to! You didn’t want to confront me with your feelings so you wrote down your confession, but now you’re back and all you can do is shout it at me.”

Keefe takes a step closer, his eyes wide.

“How am I supposed to know you mean it if you don’t say it?” Sophie looks down, tugging at an eyelash.

Keefe takes another step closer, taking her hand in his. His voice is croaky and wet but each word is clear.

“Sophie Foster…I love you.”

And that’s when it all hits Sophie, because that’s everything she needed to hear and all the things she’s been stuffing down comes up and hits her all at once, and she physically stumbles into Keefe.

“Foster?” Keefe asks, catching her. Sophie looks up and makes eye contact with him.

“I think I’ve just fallen for you.” (The joke is that she actually fell over. In case it wasn’t clear.)

#kotlc #sokeefe #is- is this anti sokeefe?#I don’t think so but if anyone wants me to tag this differently or add tags just tell me and I will #also maybe I’m completely wrong about this idk #i just feel like Stellarlune made me stop shipping sokeefe #and that’s my fault but I’m also just picky #keefe sencen #sophie foster

81 notes · View notes

bellsluvschrissturn · 6 months ago

Text

“What are you doing”

Warning: male rece!ve, Lap dance,touchy chris,pet names, baby, mama,handsome, chris sturniolo x real!st reader out there

Author note: what's good sluts don't read if you are not into it, don’t bitch and complain if you don’t like shit like this grown the fuck up, anyways enjoy bitches I would say MDNI but you little shits won’t listen to me so fuck it. I'm dyslexic don’t come for me if sum shit isn't spelled right i don't wanna hear shit.

Hey mama why are you doing Chris asked you as your coloring your coloring book in your silk robe, nothing just coloring you answered what are you coloring? Chris asks

A cupcake you answer cute he replied oh wait I got something for you, you say let me see baby Chris says you dim the lights and play the weeknd party and the after party. You start to seductively unwrap your robe and slowly shimmy it down your body as Chris’s favorite one of your lingerie is an all black set with very thin detailed lace and a pink bow above the ass and the top really compliments your breasts, that’s why it’s his favorite.

As the lingerie becomes visible to Chris he says “What are you doing?” nothing baby, just enjoy the show hun you replied as you walk to him and kinda shove him on the bed as he lays half up half down on his elbows.

You then start to sway your hips over his thigh moving up to his crotch he groans as your ass comes in contact with his dick mama please don’t tease me he says in a whiny I’m not baby I’m giving you a show you say assuring him your not trying to tease you just want to do something for him, ok baby I don’t think I can last long though he says truthfully it’s ok baby I’ll just make you cum again no worries. You say in a sensual manner he whimpers at that oh you like that baby you say continuously rubbing your ass up and down his erection with you hands on his thighs you move slower and all over his waist down knees up

He starts moaning, feeling the pressure at a slow pace wanting more scratch that CRAVING MORE,NEEDING MORE. He shoves you down and you face him what the hell chris you say I’m sorry I just need you to suck my dick please it hurts to bad to be messing around please mama please he begs aww Chrissy you want me to suck your hard cock you tease yes mama please baby p-please he stutters as he feels you starting to unbuckle his belt oh shit he whispers you want to feel good baby you ask in a sexual voice y-yes mama i do chris stutters out ok you say as you start pulling his pants and boxers down oh my such a pretty cock chris such a pretty cock you coo chris moans as he feels your spit covered hand come in contact with his aching erection, he bites down on is lip to keep all his noises in don't bite your lip handsome i want to hear those pretty sounds baby you sweet talk chris looks at you with this look of desperation. Please p-please touch me baby im aching mama please chris whines, baby i am you say no with your mouth i want my cock to abuse your throat he says ok baby you say as you down his cock sucking and hollowing your cheeks, abusing your own throat with his cock ohfuckohfuckohfcuck im cumming baby he says before shooting his white seed in your mouth mhhhh baby you taste so good you praise all chris can let out is mmmmmh

You ok babe you ask ya he lets out raspy and tired thank you mamas he says anytime baby want me to eat you out chris asks no baby tonight was for you handsome you say you sure he asks ya baby you kiss him as you peel your lingerie off and change into a lyrical lemonade shirt and black shorts you lay back in bed and see chris knocked out. You kiss his forehead and say goodnight handsome

That's it for today bitchs im going to sleep goodnight.

Most likely going to post every friday but i'm not sure I have been busy

@slxtformatt

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #talk to me #nicolas sturniolo #smut

76 notes · View notes

velvetdesir3s · 15 days ago

Text

In his wake, chapter 1: Between the stacks (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

Summary: After spending a long night at the library, studying, you expect to leave without any issues. That’s until, you spot Roman in parking lot.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Author's note: Hiii!! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, have a lot plans for this series so stay tuned 😇

There were few places in Hemlock Grove that felt like mine, but the library came close.

It wasn’t perfect—the lighting was too harsh, and the dust of old books clung to the air like second skin— but it was quiet. And quiet was rare around here.

I’d staked my claim at my usual table, tucked away in the back, hidden between the classics section and a perpetually broken vending machine. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine. Out of sight. Away from the windows. Away from the noise. People.

The vending machine was a lifeline, even if it only ever gave me honeybuns or the occasional bag of stale chips. It wasn’t ideal, but I wasn’t complaining. It was the one thing I could count on to be consistent.

The problem with people in Hemlock Grove wasn’t just that everyone knew everyone—it was that they thought they knew you. Your family. Your story. Your future. They all had their theories, their judgments. And after last year, I’d learned the hard way that none of them were worth listening to.

So, I came here, where I could hide behind stacks of textbooks and pretend the world didn’t exist, even if just for a few hours.

I was halfway through highlighting yet another page of my AP Chemistry notes when my phone buzzed. A text from Lily popped up, and for a moment, I let the noise of the world fade.

Lils: How’s library life? Bet you’re drowning in notes.

I glanced at the clock. It was already past 10, but I didn’t have the energy to care.

Me: Drowning is an understatement. Why did I think AP Chem was a good idea again?

Lils: Because you’re a nerd. Also, you can’t hide forever. You should come out soon.

I snorted quietly.

Me: Tempting, but I’ve still got Callahan to impress.

Lils: Callahan hates everyone. Also, you’re way too cute to spend your life hiding in libraries. Come on, you need a break.

Me: Flattery gets you nowhere. Go sleep, loser.

Lily’s texts were a welcome distraction. She knew me better than anyone, probably because she understood the pressure I always put on myself. She was the life of the party, always dragging me into things I didn’t want to do, but never pushing too far. With her, I didn’t have to be perfect and that was one of the many reasons why I loved this girl to death.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the clock again. It was too late to be thinking about my next move—yet here I was, stuck in this never-ending cycle of doing what I was supposed to do. I took a deep breath, ready to dive back into the chaos of chemistry.

It never has failed to surprise me how safe this library has made me feel, I’ve always thought it was because of the quiet—the absence of voices, the hum of fluorescent lights, the rhythmic scratching of pens on paper. But honestly, I think it’s because nobody else bothers to be there. There’s no distractions. No expectations.

And for that I’m thankful since no one needs to see me panic now that I’ve realized I’ve been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes without absorbing a single word.

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath, dragging my hands down my face. “Get it together.”

I tapped my pen against the edge of my notebook, glancing at the clock. 10:27 PM. The library technically closed at 11, but everyone else had cleared out hours ago. The only sounds were the occasional creak of the building settling and the faint buzz of the vending machine near the entrance.

The pile of notes in front of me looked insurmountable, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. Between my chem midterm and the essay I’d been putting off all week, I was one meltdown away from pitching a tent in this place.

I groaned in frustration, unable to focus any longer. After a few minutes, I gave in and decided it was time to head home. With a sigh, I shut my book and tucked my phone into my bag before gathering my things. Standing up, I left my spot behind.

I waved goodbye to the librarian, Mrs. Hawthorne, who was familiar with my late-night study sessions. I always appreciated that she checked up on me a few times, and other times we’d gossip about stuff we’d heard around. She was like a mother to me, and I could only hope to repay her kindness someday.

She returned the gesture with a warm smile. “Get home safe,” she said softly, her voice as steady and comforting as ever.

As I stepped out of the library and into the quiet hallway, the stillness felt oddly eerie—though I knew it was just because it was so late. The click of my heels echoed too loudly in the silence, each sound ricocheting off the walls and amplifying the emptiness. Somewhere in the distance, the hum of the air conditioning stuttered, breaking the quiet for only a moment before settling back into its low drone.

A cold draft brushed past me, raising goosebumps on my arms. It wasn’t enough to make me shiver, but it still felt out of place, as if it didn’t belong here. I glanced back toward the library door, half-expecting to see Mrs. Hawthorne still there. But the door was shut, and the faint lavender scent she always seemed to carry was already gone.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, one of them flickering just enough to cast the shadows into restless movement. My footsteps quickened, not because I was scared—at least that’s what I told myself—but because the hallway felt too long, too empty.

As I pushed open the heavy doors, the cold night air hit me like a warning, sharp and biting. It prickled the skin on the back of my neck, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, my steps quick as I descended the concrete stairs. My only goal was to make it safely to my car in the mostly empty parking lot.

Nights like this always creeped me the hell out.

I kept my head down, the rhythmic scuff of my shoes against the pavement the only sound accompanying me. But as I reached the far end of the lot, I caught a glimpse of something—or someone—out of the corner of my eye.

Roman Godfrey.

He was leaning against the hood of his 1957 cherry-red Jaguar, the faint orange glow of his cigarette casting fleeting shadows over his face. The rest of him was swallowed by the dim light of a nearby lamppost, but I recognized him instantly. His height, his posture—he wasn’t exactly a common sight around here.

I froze. My breath caught in my throat as I stood there, watching him from a distance. He didn’t move. He didn’t have to.

I didn’t know Roman personally; all I knew about him was that he wasn’t just any guy. Aside from the fact that he was the heir to a billion-dollar business and basically your textbook definition of a stereotypical playboy, he was the kind of guy who made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself. The kind of guy who could either ruin your life or make it feel like you were finally living. And after the way things went last year for me, I wasn’t ready for any of it. The last thing I needed was to get involved with someone like him. But in Hemlock Grove, the things you try to avoid have a way of finding you anyway.

I shifted my bag on my shoulder, pretending not to notice him, though the weight of his gaze was impossible to ignore. Even from across the lot, it felt like he was daring me to look back.

When his voice cut through the silence, it startled me.

“Isn’t it a little late for a girl like you to be out here?” His tone was smooth, almost too casual, as if we were picking up a conversation from years ago. The glowing ember of his cigarette flickered in the dark, briefly illuminating his face and sharpening the angles of his jaw.

I never thought I’d speak to Roman again. The first time he ever talked to me was back in ninth grade. We were in the same math class, and there was a test that day. I guess he hadn’t studied, because he kept pestering me for the answers. At the time, it seemed harmless, so I gave in. But after he took them without so much as a thanks, like it meant nothing, it left a sour taste in my mouth.

Still, that was years ago—just a stupid test. Nothing worth holding onto.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, schooling my expression into something indifferent, though my pulse quickened. “Is that so? I didn’t realize there was a curfew for girls like me.”

Roman tilted his head slightly, an eyebrow arched. His lips curled into a smile that was just a little too self-assured. “Touché.”

His eyes stayed on me as if waiting for me to break the silence, and there was something about the way he held himself, the easy confidence in his posture, that made the whole situation feel like a game I wasn’t sure I wanted to play. I knew he was an arrogant prick, sure. But seeing it first hand was a whole other experience, and I wasn’t about to be his next victim.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his words thick with an almost teasing tone, as if he knew I was trying to make a quick exit.

“Um, home, actually,” I replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—which, honestly, it was. Not all of us have the luxury of bouncing from one party to the next without a care in the world. Some of us actually have to study or work to get by. Must be nice to have a trust fund waiting for you at the finish line. Privileged kids really do have it all, huh?

Roman’s lips curled into a half-smirk as he took another drag of his cigarette, the ember glowing brighter in the darkness.

“Home, huh?” He grinned, dragging on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. “How… charming.”

I shrugged, keeping my tone flat. “I guess so.”

He let the words hang in the air before tilting his head slightly, his eyes narrowing just a fraction as if sizing me up. “What’s your name?”

My brows knitted together, surprise flickering across my face. Did he really not remember me? We’d been in the same classes since middle school, and while I wasn’t exactly Miss Popular, I hadn’t thought I was that insignificant.

“You’re kidding, right?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it stretched wider, like my confusion was the most amusing thing he’d heard all night.

“No,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. “I’m not.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his gaze making it hard to think straight. I shouldn’t take this personally. Of course, Roman Godfrey wouldn’t remember who I was. That’s just who he is. Still, it stung more than I expected. These feelings of needing his approval were strange, out of character for me. What was wrong with me? Finally, I spoke, my voice calm. “Maybe it’s best if we keep it that way.”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and popped the trunk, ready to toss my bag inside. But before I did, I made sure to pull my phone out of my purse—god knows what this weirdo might pull. The metallic clink of the latch echoed in the quiet, and I let out a slow breath, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

I turned to head for the driver’s seat, but when I saw him standing there, close enough that I couldn’t have missed him before, I jumped. I hadn’t heard him approach.

I put a hand on my chest, taking a deep breath to calm the shock I just experienced. “You really know how to move without a sound,” I muttered, more out of surprise than anything else. It wasn’t fear, exactly—but there was something unsettling about how he’d just… appeared like that. It felt almost inhuman. Roman was definitely… different.

His lips curled into a half-smirk, and he straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the side of my car. “What can I say? I love making an impression,” he said smoothly, the edge of amusement in his voice.

I tried not to show how much his sudden presence threw me off. “Not sure I’d call it a good one,” I replied, my voice steady enough, though my heart rate had sped up without me even realizing it.

Roman chuckled, stepping closer with deliberate intent. Damn, he seemed even taller up close. And those eyes… people always talk about how striking they are, but seeing them in person? It’s a whole different experience. Even in the dim light, they seem to glow, that mesmerizing shade of green unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I took a step back, trying not to look too eager. “You’re not a fan of surprises, huh? Mystery girl?” he said, his gaze lingering on my face, as if he were trying to read me.

I stayed silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. I didn’t want to admit it, but something about Roman’s presence unsettled me. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. Not in the way he moved, or how he seemed to read me without trying. It was like he could see right through my defenses, and that made me wary.

“Surprises aren’t really my thing,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice level, but the way his eyes lingered on mine made me feel like I was already saying too much.

Roman’s smirk deepened, and I couldn’t tell if it was because he liked my answer or because he found my hesitation amusing. “Guess we’re opposites, then,” he said, taking another step closer. He leaned in just enough to make me feel his presence more acutely, but not so much that it was overtly threatening. He wasn’t invading my space—at least not yet—but it felt like he was testing the boundaries.

I felt my pulse quicken despite myself. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here, exchanging words with Roman Godfrey like it was some normal, casual conversation. “Maybe,” I said, keeping my tone cool. “I don’t need a memorable impression to know what kind of person you are.”

Roman’s eyes darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing across his face. He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. “You think you know me already?” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Trust me, you don’t. What you’ve heard about me… it’s barely the tip of the iceberg.” He paused, his grin slowly spreading. “But believe me, you’ll want to.”

I raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “And why would I want that?”

He took a slow step forward, his gaze intense and unwavering, like he was sizing me up. His voice was low, dripping with a quiet confidence that sent a shiver down my spine. Before he answered, he took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Sooner or later, you won’t stay away,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’ll find yourself wanting to know what it’s like—what I’m like. And trust me, I’m not the kind of guy you forget.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine, his words lingering in the cool night air. I watched as he brought his cigarette back to his lips, inhaling and exhaling the smoke upward.

“You’ll want to see me again,” he added with a playful gleam in his eyes. “There’s a party tomorrow night at my house. The Godfrey mansion. There’ll be a few people, a little chaos. You should come. Maybe you’ll tell me your name then.”

I hesitated. A party? Roman Godfrey was inviting me? The idea felt strange, but then again, so did everything about this interaction.

“Not really my scene,” I said, but it sounded weaker than I intended.

Roman grinned again, harder this time, as if he’d expected that response. “Of course it’s not,” he said with a knowing glint in his eyes. “But that’s what makes it interesting. You might just surprise yourself.”

I could feel the pull of his words, the way his confidence seemed to sink into my skin. I wanted to refuse, to walk away and forget this whole interaction. But there was something in the air—something magnetic about the way he was looking at me.

“Think about it,” he said, his voice low, almost coaxing. “You won’t regret it.”

I looked away, trying to steady myself, my breath a little shaky. The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to tell him I’d think about it, but before I could say anything, he was already walking away, heading back to his car.

Staring at the ground, my thoughts raced, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Why was he so persistent? Why was he acting like I was someone worth chasing? I wasn’t stupid—I knew exactly what he was offering, or at least I thought I did. A night at his party, a chance to be close to him. And for some crazy reason, the idea of being around him was oddly tempting. Maybe it was the mystery of it all, or the way he seemed to see through me, but it pulled at me.

But then, my mind kicked into gear. I didn’t trust him. People like him didn’t do things without expecting something in return. He wasn’t the kind of guy who gave away favors or invitations without a price tag. And with his reputation, I could already guess what he was probably expecting. A flirtation, a conquest, something to add to his list of trophies. I wasn’t just another girl he’d try to charm; I was just another opportunity for him to take advantage of.

I tried to ignore the part of me that still wondered what it would be like to walk into that party, to feel that dangerous, electric pull between us. It was a bad idea. It had to be.

And yet, despite all the logical reasons to walk away, my gaze flickered back to the parking lot. Half-expecting him to still be there, watching me. But he was gone.

I felt a tightness in my chest that I couldn’t shake, something that kept me rooted to the spot. I took a hesitant step toward my car, ready to leave. But I couldn’t quite get the feeling out of my head. I wasn’t done with him yet. There was something unfinished about this encounter. It wasn’t over. And despite every instinct telling me to stay away, I couldn’t completely ignore the nagging feeling that if I went, I wouldn’t be leaving that party alone.

And worse—what if he got exactly what he wanted from me? I had a sinking feeling that whatever he wanted, he’d take. I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out what that meant.

I opened the door to my car and slid inside. With my phone in hand, I powered it on and searched for Lily’s contact. Once I found it, I clicked the dial button, bringing the phone to my ear. I felt the vibrations of the rings against my cheek.

“Hello?”

“We need to talk.”

#hemlock grove #roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #bill skarsgard

51 notes · View notes

jessicascharacterbananza · 2 years ago

Text

Wake up call-polyghostface imagine !!!Smut!!!

I am not responsible for anyone underage reading this material. I’m also not putting an age limit on my writing, I had read a lot worse when I was young.

——————————————

They never woke up on time. No matter how loud the alarm clock, how much you would shake them, they would not get out of bed. Stu was the worst, he had a habit of being late to everything which was mainly due to his oversleeping.

You had organised for the three of you to go to a breakfast dinner date, which was booked for an hours time. Whilst you had gotten showered, done your skincare, gotten dressed and done your hair, the boys had slept.

Not wanting to miss the reservation you had been looking forward to all week, you decided on a different method to wake them up.

Climbing onto the bed, you pulled the covers down to expose their boxers. It had been a hot summer and the boys had u see that as their excuse to sleep almost naked every night. Not that you were complaining.

Careful not to wake them just yet, you pulled down each of their waistbands to expose their lengths. You wrapped you hand around each of them and began to stroke them, watching as them twitched in their sleep. Growing the pace you applied slightly more pressure, which caused Stu it left out a soft moan.

Billy began to stir so you took that as an opportunity to wrap your lips around his head and suck slightly. Licking him clean of the pre cum, you felt a hand push your head down. Gagging you pulled back, letting out his cock with a pop and feeling spit string from your chin.

You smirked at Billy and watched his face grin in bemusement as you turned to Stu and deep throated him. He woke up with a start and you chuckled on his dick, listening to Billy’s heavy breathing. Beginning to bob your head up and down, you hummed as you felt Billy’s hands reach down your trousers.

His hands teased at your underwear, running his fingertips along the hem. You closed your eyes, willing him to reach underneath and give you what he knew you desired. You whined and tried to move your hips to get some much needed friction but was met by a hard slap to your ass as he retracted his fingers.

Stu’s hand came down and pulled your hair back, forcing you off his cock. He instead replaced it with his tongue, kissing you deeply and pulling you onto his lap. Billy’s lips met your neck and you hummed as you felt Stu begin to pull at your shirt. He raised it above your head as Billy grabbed your bra clasp, undoing it in seconds.

Stu grabbed your tits, massaging them with hunger in his eyes. He reached forward and began sucking them. You moaned as you felt Billy reach down your trousers once more.

“We need to leave soon,” you whisper as Stu continues his attack on your chest.

“What would you rather, we go eat pancakes and act like we’re normal, or stay in bed all day and make each other feel good?” Billy asks before finally slipping his hand into your underwear.

He didn’t need an answer, your moans were enough.

Hey, it’s the author. Thinking of taking some requests for Billy and Stu (separately or together). Comment if you have a request or questions about any characters I will write for. :)))

#billy loomis #billy x reader #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface #polyamory #scream #scream 1996 #stu macher #stu matcher x you #stu x billy #stu x reader #smut tw #smutty

817 notes · View notes

elf-osamu · 2 years ago

Text

“WOW, I REALLY CAN’T SPEAK, HUH? MUST BE BECAUSE OF HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK”

[ masterlist ] [ event ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

fluff, romantic relationship, lucifer, mammon, barbatos x gn!reader

warning(s) : mammon’s one is kinda sad at first ?? mostly bc he’s overthinking things ☹️ probably he’s a bit ooc but idc he’s gorgeous regardless (let’s say you two are at the start of your relationship in this one-shot).

words count : 2587 words

request: “howdy may i rq an obey me scenario with this prompt —> “wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look.” gn! mc says it ! would like it to be with lucifer, mammon and barbatos. maybe something like them rambling and asking if mc is listening and they drop that line ^ thank youu”

a/n : AA FINALLY AN OBEY ME REQUEST 🫶🏻 i love those characters with all of my heart, aND THIS PROMPT IS SO GOOD, it’s one of my favorites !! thank you for requesting btw <33 and i apologize for the long wait :( i had no time to write between school and personal matters. anyway, just so you know, lucifer’s and mammon’s ones are soooo long while barbato’s is auite short, i kinda rushed it because i felt bad since i’ve been neglecting requests lately 😭😭 (yeah this is the second time i’m posting this)

LUCIFER :

as the student council vice president, lucifer is well known among the royal academy of diavolo’s demons and angels: although being a composed individual most of the time, he has also an intimidating and almost cruel side to him because of his status, hence why many demons fear him. his fierce, self-assured demeanour is somewhat entrancing, capturing everyone’s gaze in an unbreakable trance, plus his aura of pride is something inevitable in everyday life.

this is not to mention his complicated past and the authority he possesses thanks to lord diavolo, which — according to many demons and a few angels — give more might to his persona.

although sometimes you were the main cause of many troubles in the past, now you can consider yourself quite privileged to be in his good graces. as his partner you have access to a vulnerable part of him that not everyone has a chance to see, where his pride comes off and his insecurities and annoyances emerge, and you can afford to be bold with him.

this very day, he is complaining about a bunch of ‘inferior’ demons who have caused a rather bothersome fuss during curses and hexes class, knocking out a student, giving a headache to your beloved: lucifer knows perfectly well how to put someone in their place, even forcefully if necessary, however it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel pressured and tired after doing his duty.

the stress derived from all of his responsibilities, and from the piles of paperwork stubbornly sitting on his desk nearly every day, highly increases over time.

now the two of you are in his study, lucifer is rereading the report about today’s incident he just finished to write while you intently watch him work, helping him here and there. frowing in displeasure, he keeps changing a few sentences, wondering how the hell he’s going to survive this afternoon.

however, you can’t help but admire his handsome features: his black eyes shine with a reddish light, they are a little jaded but also alive; his rosy lips form a straight line, emphasizing his concentration, but no less beautiful; his cheeks are covered with a slight sheen of blush, probably due to his weariness; what to say, his demonic beauty is undoubtedly striking.

being too busy with your thoughts, you don’t realize he’s trying to get your attention to what he has been saying for the past few minutes.

“[name], are you listening to me?” he asks, lips slightly parted at your silence.

it’s almost funny, the fact that he completely ignores the reason of your quietness.

“[name].” at this point, lucifer’s voice is filled more with worry than irritation. why aren’t you responding to him? is something the matter?

as he’s about to ask another question, you snap back to reality, slowly turning to your senses.

you try to say something to seem completely nonchalant, but your voice — hoarse from nervousness — betrays you, and you can’t help but observe again your partner, who is frowing even more than before. if that’s possible.

you sigh, in defeat with yourself, and a genuine grin makes its way onto your face. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look”.

at first, he doesn’t really process those words.

although his gaze is fixed on your figure, his mind is fuzzy from all the work he’s currently doing, almost as if he were in a dream-like state, not at all focused on the present world. there’s silence for a few seconds in the room you two are in, and you’re asking yourself if you need to bring lucifer back to reality. but when you’re about to talk to him, you shift slightly on your sit, and his brain registers the movement.

so, suddenly, realization hits him. perhaps, too suddenly.

if it weren’t for his majestic pride, he’d cover his face, now completely red — but, doing so would be admitting his confused (but contented) mood derived from the sound of your words, which is inadmissible to him. so, all he can do is pretend that he’s not impressed by what you have said, even if his body is betraying him: in addition to the blush on his face and neck, his eyes are filled with astonishment and his lips, slightly parted again, form a small circle, defining his astonishment.

finally, he glares at you — taking back a part of his self-control — and seems to be lost in thought, probably wondering how he should face the situation without feeling too embarrassed; you can almost see the gears of his brain working wildly, desperately trying to find a simple solution.

and then, his eyes sparkle.

never underestimate a demon, especially if it’s lucifer. have you flustered him? well, be prepared, because he’ll pay you back in the same coin.

he adjusts himself on his scarlet armchair, which highlights his shimmering eyes, and leans towards you, over his desk. you can tell by his look that, if you let him speak, his words will be the death of you. and there’s no way you’ll allow it.

“too bad i need to be in another a class in, like, five minutes,” you blatantly lie, checking your wristwatch, and getting up. you lean just a little to give lucifer a quick peck on the lips. “well, see you later, pretty boy”, you wink at him and leave the room in a hurry, without giving him enough time to process what has happened.

yet again, he’s stunned by how you’ve called him.

the avatar of pride may be confident and assertive, but his heart can only flutter when someone is genuinely complimenting him. especially if it’s you.

MAMMON :

“… and so he blamed me! me, do ya understand? he, without hesitation, cursed the great mammon in front of the whole class! what an outrageous thing to do, don’t ya think!?”.

one interesting thing about the avatar of greed is that, despite his attempts to play it cool, he’s not confident about himself. thinking about it, it can’t but make sense: he’s driven by his multiple desires — money, for example — and craves them every time there’s a minimal absence of those, including external approval; he needs to be seen and accepted by everyone.

admitting it out loud would probably never be an option, considering his stubborn nature, but mammon would do anything to make you smile or laugh at his jokes — anything. he wants to be worthy of your attention — because in his mind he’s not deserving of love, particularly yours. of course, if you asked him something about this matter, he’d say the opposite — he’s everything but good at communicating his needs.

getting to know the demon hasn’t been an easy task, but with time you’ve managed to discover that there’s a soft side to him — a kind, warm heart behind his usual carefree mask.

despite all these thoughts spinning in your head, in this moment you are still fascinated by mammon’s temper and gestures: his hands, shaken, are moving quickly in the air, a slight pout is adorning his face, and his eyes are glimmering in bitter frustration — the sky of the devildom is reaching his darkest shade of colour while he looks vigorous yet ethereal.

“… handsome”, you murmur, as if talking to yourself.

mammon suddenly stops in his tracks, a slight embarassed expression appearing on his face.

“oh? what did ya say?” he asks, confused yet hopeful, thinking that maybe he has misheard you — because how could someone like you view him as nothing but that? sure, you’re his partner, however the fear of not being seen and loved for who he really is… is always present.

you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? ah, must be because of how pretty you look…”.

the noises of the night fill the atmosphere between you two in this moment; mammon’s brain has stopped working and, honestly, you can’t blame him: saying that he’s taken aback by your remark would be a great understatement to describe the current situation.

the avatar of greed is feeling so many emotions in so little time — his heart is pounding stronger than ever, you can almost hear its soft sound, and a reassurance which he has never felt so intensely is hugging his chest. these sensations are something he would gladly immerse himself into, a new type of greed to add to his long and interminable list, a new need.

unfortunately, the clock is ticking and mammon doesn’t want you to see his true self, not in a moment so embarassing for him, not like this — though he would love to indulge in this sweet pleasure for a while longer.

“you— human! what are ya thinking, speaking like that to your first demon? ya sure are bold! i’ll close one eye for this time, so consider yourself lucky tonight, because the great mammon won’t be so gentle in the future!”

a quick laugh escapes from your lips and, before he can question it, you grab his jaw with one of your hands, so his eyes can only be directed towards you.

“mammon, sweetheart, drop the act. you are making a fool of yourself and, although you’d be so entertaining to watch right now, you need to realise that i love you, truly.”, your gaze softens and you smile at him, making his heart melt. “it’s okay to not understand why you are cared about — but i want you to know that you are important to me, so, so fcking much. we’re in this together — aren’t we? then, will you allow me to show why and how i’m going to love and take care of you, mh?”.

mammon remains still as you finish your speech; his unsteady breath, however, betrays him.

“[name], i… thank you”, he says, unsure on how to continue his response.

“talk your feelings out, if you feel like it. i’m not a judge here,” you reassure him.

his gaze shifts for a moment, symbolising his indecision, but then it returns to yours. “i’m… i am glad to have ya in my life, [name]. but, well, i suppose i have one request to make”.

your smile turns suddenly into a smirk, finally happy to see your boyfriend taking courage to express his feelings.

“yes, dear?”.

“be greedy with me,” he pauses, slowly breathing in and out to not mess up his next words. “indulge in my sin whenever you can, day by day, and don’t leave anything behind. spare nothing, let the greed take control over you, like i’ll do with you from now on”.

“oh now, now, who is the bold one?” you murmur, getting closer to him. “you’re extremely covetous, mammon, and this is one of the many things which i appreciate about you. i already made a pact with you, so i don’t see a problem with your request. i accept it”, and you kiss him, as if you’re sealing the deal.

who would have thought that one of the greatest demons of all the realms could feel such things for a human?

BARBATOS :

despite being barbatos’s partner, it’s not quite often that you’re invited over lord diavolo’s castle to spend time with two of the most powerful demons in the devildom. the reason why is actually pretty simple: your lover’s life is full of events to attend and favors to give. his presence is requested by every kind of beings, alongside his trusted services to the devildom’s prince, resulting in little to no space left for your meetings. the same can be said for you, since your school life isn’t exactly giving you energy to talk to him either — so you could say you two are fair.

this evening is different from the usual, since you were invited for dinner — a rare, but pleasant occasion to find yourself in. the one who has arranged it all is, nevertheless, lord diavolo himself: though he often acts oblivious of his requests, he has a keen eye for his butler’s mental state — so it would have been only a matter of time before he found out about barbatos’ single desire to relieve his stress… you.

using the “celebration” of your school achievements as an excuse, diavolo set up these hours in his magnificent mansion just for the two of you — saying that he’s attended elsewhere and oh so unfortunately he won’t be able to remain with you even for a while longer.

this is the premise of the current moment — you are quite literally squeezing your boyfriend, hugging him from behind, while he prepares his nightly skincare routine. he’s looking at himself in the mirror, dark green eyes are inspecting his state: his hands are on both sides of the sink, slightly supporting his robust and elegant figure; his torso is covered by a black tank top — something you’d rarely have the chance to see, considering barbatos’ extreme care for a professional appearance; his cold but soft skin seems bright, almost shining, under the tender lamp’s light.

his lips are smartly moving, giving life to his thoughts, however you are too focused on him to pay attention to his words.

“[name]?”

the sudden call of your name wakes you up, but only for a second.

“mh?”

his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “are you listening to me?”.

“mmh mh”, you nod, not registering his question at all, and continue to admire him in silence.

obviously, he’s completely aware of it — after all, he’s the demon who can see through both the past and future.

with a swift movement of his body, he turns to face you, making you cling to his waist.

with his right hand, he gently holds your chin between his fingers. “would you like, my love, to share your thoughts on the matter? you seem rather unfocused tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”.

you swallow, waiting for your confidence to come back. then, you try to give back the same energy of his — since you wouldn’t like to lose to his antics, not again.

“damn, i really can’t speak right now, huh? must be because of how pretty you look, barbatos. it’s actually not fair”.

although you don’t look nearly as self-assured as him, you regain a bit of your control when you notice a hint of hesitation and bewilderment on his face.

he scoffs, looking away from your eyes — and doing so makes it evident that his ears are bright red. you catch the opportunity right away, moving his hair away from the sensitive skin.

“ah! if only the others saw you, the formidable barbatos, right now! you wouldn’t be feared so much,” you teasingly comment, preparing for his next move.

“i wouldn’t be so daring if i were in your place, [name]”, barbatos remarks jokingly — but you can never be so sure when it comes to him: as proof you have his piercing gaze fixated on your face, which conveys a message that you couldn’t otherwise pick up.

“well- i guess i’ll make it up tomorrow! aren’t you tired? it’s been an exhausting day — let’s watch a movie!” you suddenly suggest, not resisting to his towering yet fascinating aura.

he sighs as you quickly evade from his arms, though he’s suppressing a smile.

barbatos supposes he can let one person to make fun of him.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

#obey me #obey me fluff #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #gn!reader #x gn reader #x gn!reader #mammon x you #lucifer x gender neutral reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #barbatos x reader

650 notes · View notes

ageless-aislynn · 9 months ago

Text

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating: T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N: Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger @mysardencut @laurenstacy610 @sporadicbelievernightmare @ultrablackwidower @bxmxtx @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

#halo #halo the series #halo paramount+#master chief x reader #x reader #john-117 x reader #aislynn's fics #aislynn's fic #ageless aislynn #fic: 15 minutes #series: how to date a spartan without even trying

67 notes · View notes

seenoversundown · 6 months ago

Text

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Seven

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: A lot of Gentle Bullying (it's done with love,i promise), Drinking/Mentions of Alcohol, Peer pressure, Mentions of Sex (don't get your hopes up; it's not happening yet) Fluff, yearning, pining, hopeless romantic-ing, maybe a smidge of flirting and lastly- more pirate references.

Word Count: 6.2k !!

Summary: The weekend plays out a bit differently than Jake anticipated, but aside from the endless teasing from his family, I don't think he has much to complain about.

Author's Note: IT'S A LONG ONE FOLKS. We're getting to the good stuff and i'm SO excited. This chapter has me kicking my feet and blushing (I wrote it, I know) but GOD it's so cute watching their little friendship grow. I hope you love it xoxo next weeks is a TREAT. 😉

She Calls Me Back - Noah Kahan "Everything's alright when, she calls me back,"

Friday

I didn’t expect to spend so much of my evening texting Charlotte. Granted, I also never expected anybody to willingly let me tell them about pirates, a pretty girl, no less. We kept talking until she was finally ready to sleep, and I told her that she was more than welcome to reach out if she wanted. She definitely took me up on the offer. What I wasn’t prepared for was her to send me a random fun fact at 10 am. Though I’m glad, she seems to be in a better mood.

Charlotte: Did you know the creator of the Xbox was obsessed with sourdough bread?

Jake: I did not

Charlotte: Mhm! Which makes the logo funnier, because it looks like a nicely scored loaf!

Jake: Why do you know this? Also goodmorning?

I’ve already been down to the bar and finished getting her ready to open. A habit that I probably can’t break at this point. I started going down to get the bar set up when I first opened because I was really the only one who was actually working there. Once I got Josh on board full-time, we split a lot of the work, but I still try to make it as easy as possible for him. He’s doing a lot to help me out; it’s the least I can do.

Charlotte: Oh, goodmorning! I guess I should have started with that lol

“What are you so smiley about this morning?”

I look up to see Quinn rounding the corner into the kitchen, their floppy curls all over the place.

“There’s still coffee left if you want some,” I tell them quickly.

“Don’t avoid the question, Jack,” their smirk growing as they pour coffee into one of Josh’s mugs.

“Do I usually look sad?”

“Not sad, but you look especially happy right now,” tossing the creamer back into the fridge, “but you’re gonna need to wipe that look off your face if you don’t want your nosy brother harassing you.”

My smile definitely falls at that statement. Unfortunately, they’re so very correct. If I can’t hide it better, Josh will know something’s up. I swear he can smell it from a mile away.

“I’m joking,” they sip on their coffee, “I’m gonna tell him anyway!”

Shit. They scurry towards Josh’s door before I can say anything or try to bargain with them. I practically launch myself up from the couch to follow suit when I hear their sing-song little voice, “Jaaaaakes got a cruuuuushhh.” Stopping me in my tracks just outside the bedroom.

“A crush, you say!” Josh’s voice is just simply loud; there’s no changing it, “Oh, Jacob! You can’t hide from me now, brother!”

I round the corner, leaning against the doorframe.

“You’re lucky I love you,” I point at Quinn, “It’s not a crush, just a .. friend?” Realizing that I’m not even sure what this is.

“Well, that just wasn’t convincing at all,” They mumble, taking another sip of coffee.

“It’s not that serious is all.”

Josh finally chimed in, “You know, you don’t have to be ashamed if it is a crush. If anything, it’s relieving for the rest of us.”

My eyes roll involuntarily as I cross my arms over my chest, “Why are you so concerned about my love life? Shouldn’t you just be happy that I’m not bringing random girls home?”

“Don’t disrespect Danny without him present,” Josh barks out a laugh, “But at least he was getting laid, so maybe he was onto something.”

“Plus, he has Melody now,” Quinn pipes up, “You’re the last man standing.”

Josh looks over at them, “Nice guys do finish last, I guess.”

“One is the loneliest number!”

“The lone wolf.”

“Okay, you don’t need to kick me while I’m down,” my eyebrows pinch together as they keep piling on.

“Well, are you actually gonna try to bag this one?” Josh asks, “ Or you just gonna rot away in the bar and pine over her?”

“First of all, I already told you it’s not a crush,” I start, “Secondly, are you convinced that I can’t lock down a girlfriend?”

“Jake, you’ve been single for how long? It’s getting hard to believe you even know how to flirt with a woman.”

“Especially after you tried flirting with that pretty redhead the other day,” Quinn cringes quietly.

“Okay, that wasn’t my best work,” I had been trying to forget that. “But she was also busy yelling at me for being bad at my job, so the timing was less than ideal.” My face sells me out as the red settles in my cheeks.

“Wait,” Josh pipes up, “is that who you’re texting?” Leaning forward as he stares at me. How is he so quick?

“Uh,” I hesitated a second too long.

“Oh my god, it is!” His voice was rising with excitement. “A friend? My ass. I saw how you looked at her.”

“She was very pretty, to be fair,” Quinn interjects, nudging him with their elbow.

“Oh, she was stunning,” he says, looking back at them. “So you two have been talking?”

My heart is pounding as we have this conversation because I don’t even know what’s going on. The last thing I need is him hounding me over it.

They both just stare at me with that sympathetic look that people give you when they find out you lost your job or your dog ran away.

“Can you two quit interrogating me?” I whine, “I promise that either of you will be the first to know when I have a potential girlfriend.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stand down,” Josh throws his hands up, “but only because I need to get ready for work.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Jake: i’m assuming youre feeling a bit better today?

I decided to walk to some of the stores nearby, trying to enjoy the last few days of autumn. The Old Port is a wonderfully odd place. With the cobblestone streets and terribly old brick buildings, it’s nothing short of having character. The way the city won’t tear any down but just shove new businesses in will always amaze me. But being able to walk to a fair amount of things has been my favorite thing since moving over here.

The crisp air of fall warrants a hot drink. I slip into a smaller local coffee shop. It’s a crowded little space with several tables and the actual bar. There’s minimal room to move around or not be noticed.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

My head whips to the right, and I see my favorite ladies parked at a small table in the corner: Eleanor with her book in her lap and Linda with a small notebook set on the table. I take my drink from the barista with a quick ‘thank you’ and carefully weave through the scattered chairs.

“Goodmorning ladies, is this seat taken?” I tap the chair facing them.

“All yours, sweetheart.”

Linda leans forward, sliding her notebook to the side, “So Josh told us that you were flirting with that pretty young lady the other day,” sending a little wink at me.

I drop my head with a long sigh. I should have known he would tell them because, of course, my brother is best friends with two older ladies.

“Well, I tried flirting,” I mumble, sipping my coffee, “But it wasn’t necessarily well received.”

The collective ‘awwww’ feels almost offensive, but I know they aren’t trying to bully me. That’s everyone else’s job.

“You’ll find someone, dear. You’re much too sweet and handsome,” Eleanor finally says. “At least you’re not wasting it on someone who doesn’t deserve you.” She gently rubs my arm for a second, a soft smile on her face.

“Thank you,” I tell her, placing my hand over hers, “You’re right. I’d rather wait for the right girl than spend time on whoever is willing to go on dates.”

Truth be told, I’ve played that game already. Meeting girls online or on dating apps and taking them out to dinner. Only to have them tell me, “You’re so sweet,” and then ghost me after the date. I’ve only made it to the kiss at the end a handful of times in my life, and lord knows the last time I got laid. Never a proud moment for me when it happened. Both of us are usually incredibly drunk, and I hardly remember anything from it the next morning.

Since officially opening the bar, I’ve just not bothered dating. I have too many things I could be doing or helping Josh when he is working. I think if another girl ghosted me, I may commit arson. Not to the bar; obviously, I’ve worked too hard. So, I keep to myself and just enjoy the minor flirting from girls who are already a drink or two deep. I also spend a bit longer in the shower some nights trying to relieve some of the tension.

“Ellie’s right, ya know?” Linda sits back, “And don’t let those pesky boys pick on you over it! We both witnessed how ‘smooth’ their paths were, they have barely any room to speak.”

I look between the two of them with a lazy smile on my lips, “You’re the best, both of you.” I let out a small sigh of relief.

We all sit and chat while Linda writes up her list of what to bring to the Farmer’s Market this weekend. She passes the notebook to Eleanor so she can decide what plant pots to bring. Watching their friendship over the last year has been so precious.

“Alright girls, I think I need to head out,” I scoot my chair back.

“Don’t work too hard, sweetheart,” Linda quips, “But we’ll probably see you in a few hours.” She glances over at Eleanor.

“Oh, probably,” she lets out a long sigh, “This old bat drags me out late every Friday.” Holding back a laugh, she side-eyes Linda.

“Play nice, ladies!” I giggle, sending them a little wave, “I’ll see you two later.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It’s Josh’s night to close the bar, but I can’t help myself from at least being around. I’ve been sitting in my office for the most part. Trying to focus on admin stuff, but it becomes incredibly apparent why I let Dan handle a lot of it. It doesn’t help that I have also been texting Charlotte all night. But, in my defense, why would I turn down the opportunity to text someone who seems interested in what I have to say? The fact she’s hot is just a bonus.

I pick up my phone, unprepared for what I am about to endure. I see the blue dot next to the group chat with all the boys in it. We use it daily, but I just had a gut feeling about tonight’s conversation, considering how the rest of my day has gone.

Employees of the Month 🏴‍☠️🏆 (& Sam) :

Sam: Birdie says you may be able to pull someone if you shave your face

Josh: quinn agrees

Jake: i didn’t ask for opinions from the peanut gallery

Daniel changes the groupchat name to “ Operation: Get Jake Laid 🫡”

Daniel: melody is also in favor of no mustache

Josh: it’s not our fault you look like a chimney sweep

[Jake left the conversation]

[Sam added Jake to the conversation]

Sam: not so fast, Dick Van Dyke

Jake: So literally nobody thinks it looks good?

Josh: not at all

Daniel: …no

Sam: ABSOLUTELY NOT LOL

Josh: you already have the long hair, you’re giving jesus a little bit.

Josh: or homeless. take your pick.

Sam: Definitely homeless, there’s only room for one jesus in this family

Daniel: good point sam

Jake: i hate all of you

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Saturday

“I’m off to work,” Josh says, rounding the corner from his bedroom.

“Have fun,” I reply, looking up from my phone, “I’ll be down there in a little bit.”

As soon as the lock flips on the door, I sit up from the couch. Usually, I’m not affected by the boys’ commentary. Still, for whatever reason, the simple act of shaving my face struck a nerve. I’m not particularly attached to having facial hair, but I wasn’t under the impression it was that bad.

I stare into the mirror as the water is running; I mean, I know it’s not a big deal. If a girl didn’t like me for this, that sounds like her problem, as I throw my hair into a low bun. Grabbing my razor from the cabinet and stealing some of Josh’s shaving cream, I carefully dab some just above my lip. What if I look worse? No. Maybe they’re right; maybe I should just get rid of it. Fuck it.

Making the first pass, I let out a small sigh. I slather on some more shaving cream to the rest of my face, quickly shaving it off. Well, I guess this looks okay. Bzzzt.

Charlotte: helloooo

Jake: good morrow m’lady how did you sleep

The shower creaks a bit as I turn it on, giving the water a few minutes to heat up. It always feels like forever this time of year. Once the steam starts fogging up the mirrors, I pull my sweatshirt over my head and toss it on the counter. Bzzt.

Charlotte: not bad. How are you?

Jake: aside from falling into peer pressure, i’m okay haha

I set my phone on top of my sweatshirt, quickly sliding off my sweats and swiftly moving into the shower. Letting the hot water run over me. What if she doesn’t even notice? Pouring shampoo into my hand and scrubbing it into my hair, maybe she’ll like this better? What am I even worried about? We’re just casually talking. Rinsing and then grabbing the conditioner, Though.. I wouldn’t be opposed. I run the conditioner through my ends and then lather the rest of my body with soap. I feel like she must at least think I’m an okay person if she’s listening to me ramble on about pirates? I move back under the water, feeling the temperature start to change.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble to myself, trying to rinse everything off as quickly as possible. There’s nothing worse than the hot water running out mid-shower. As soon as my hair doesn’t feel slimy, I shut the water off with a quick shudder. I wring my hair out and grab my towel, drying myself before wrapping it tightly around my waist.

I see my phone light up.

Charlotte: Excuse me?

Charlotte: Who peer pressured you? Into what?

Charlotte: Jacob! You can’t just say that and then disappear!

I audibly laugh at her yelling at me, quickly replying to try and ease the suspense.

Jake: i’m sorry i was in the shower LOL

Jake: oh just the boys per usual im just dumb and fell for it this time

I migrate to my bedroom, scanning my closet briefly before grabbing my staple long-sleeve button-up shirt and my black jeans. I pull them on as I hear the small buzz of my phone.

Charlotte: Why are you avoiding saying what IT is? It can’t be that bad.

Oh, sweetheart, I wish I knew if it were that bad.

Jake: i haven’t decided if it’s that bad

Charlotte: Well, let me help!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Rounding the corner to the bar, I set a handful of clean glasses on the back counter. Listening to Josh as he small talks with some of the customers. Having Josh bartend was probably one of the smartest things I could have done; everybody loves him. He’s much more extroverted than myself, on top of just being a sociable person. Bzzzt.

I have to fight the urge to grab my phone every time it vibrates. She knows I’m working, so she won’t be upset if I take a second to reply. I’m cleaning up the back counter to try and help out Josh; I wipe down everything quickly to make sure I’m not in his way.

Turning around, I see the door open as Willa walks through. It’s always a gamble to see who will be with her, Sam, or Quinn, and tonight's lucky winner is Samuel. I’ve watched them since the day they first met, and as much as they like to annoy each other, they are rather cute together. If there’s anything I know about my brother, he doesn’t ever actually want to annoy her; he just likes to ruffle her feathers. Get it- Birdie.. Feathers.. HAH.

He pulls out the barstool a bit for her before taking the seat next to her.

“OH MY GOD-” Willa yelps, “YOU SHAVED,” excitedly clapping her hands. Well, that didn’t take long.

“It’s nice to see you too,” I slide small napkins in front of both of them, grinning at her excitement.

“Jake, I literally see you all the time,” Sam torts back.

“I was talking to Willa,” I deadpan, rolling my eyes before looking back to her, “What can I get for you, dear?”

“Just something fruity,” she requests between laughs, “thank you!”

I glance at Sam with my eyebrows raised, “and you?”

“Wow, the customer service here is amazing,” laced in a sarcastic tone that quickly disappears when he quietly mumbles, “Whatever you make for her, just .. the same thing.”

Turning to make their drinks, bzzt, I slide my phone from my back pocket.

Charlotte: Can you PLEASE just tell me what it is?

Jake: i promise you it’s not that exciting

I quickly shoved my phone back into its rightful place and put together their drinks. Willa’s more carefully than Sam’s, at least she doesn’t cop an attitude with me.

“Here you go, madam,” setting her drink on the napkin, “and here’s yours.” more abruptly setting Sam’s down.

“So, Jake,” she starts, “how’s dating going?”

My eyes wander over to my brother, who is looking everywhere but at me. That little shit.

“Oh, it’s um.. It’s going.”

“Well, I do have a friend who I could set you up with,” she continues, “ya know, if you want.”

Finally, making eye contact with Sam, my eyebrows pull together as I cross my arms over my chest.

“What? I didn’t say anything?” he says, putting his hands up.

“Yes, you did!” Willa calls him out, “Don’t be dumb, Sam.”

She looks back at me, putting her hands out across the bar, “I’m a girl, I can help, okay. What are you looking for? Tell meee!”

Bzzzt. Shit.

I can feel the warmth settling in my face, and my hand finds its place on the back of my neck.

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” I start, “but I don’t think I really have time to date right now.”

She sighs, “Oh come on– are you gunna let yourself wither away in this bar? You’re handsome; you shouldn’t have any problems dating.”

“Hello? I’m right here?” Sam butts in.

“This isn’t about you right now, babe.”

Charlotte: What if I just tell you that it is super exciting? Does that help?

Jake: oh my god you’re ridiculous hahaha

“What are you smiling at over there?” Willa’s tone was taunting.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I tell her, unable to contain the uncomfortable laugh that follows.

“That doesn’t look like nothing.”

I smirk, “I promise!”

She looks like she will fling herself over the bar if I don’t tell her who I’m talking to.

“Promises mean nothing to me, sir!” she quickly rebuttals, “give me the juicy deets!”

My ears perk up at the ‘sir,’ but I’m not so easily swindled.

“You almost got me there, but there’s nothing to tell.” I smile at her, raising my eyebrows as I walk to the other end of the bar.

Charlotte: I promise I won’t laugh at you! I’m just too invested now

Jake: Charlotte

Charlotte: Jacob

Charlotte: For the love of god, just tell me what it is

I don’t know what comes over me, but I immediately walk to the bathroom. Holding the edge of the sink with my free hand, I pull up my phone, clicking on the little camera. Click. I don’t bother to look, simply clicking ‘done.’

Jake: [ sends photo ]

Read 9:37pm. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next few hours go by quickly. This is sort of the blessing of Saturday nights here; the nights tend to fly by with the number of people you talk to. I sent Josh home a little early. We were slowing down a bit, and he’s been here quite a lot lately. Which is a little my fault, but none of the bartenders I hire stick around long.

I don’t want to cave, but I finally opened Charlotte’s messages. Seeing the ‘read’ makes me nervous. My thumbs defy me.

Jake: is it that bad?

Does that seem too needy? She doesn’t have to say anything. Maybe I scared her off with the picture. My mind races until I see her typing.

Charlotte: What are you doing after work?

The sense of relief when she responds is great, but why was she avoiding the conversation? Maybe it was just too weird for her.

Jake: I get out at 2am.. what else am I going to do haha

Charlotte: You’re so right

Looking up to the corner, 1:15 a.m., before replying to her.

Jake: what are you doing awake? ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I spent the last forty-five minutes of the night trying to clean while slowly collecting everyone’s payments. Following the last customer to the doors, I locked myself in and felt the calm wash over me again.

Charlotte: I don’t really know

Jake: well i’m sure you’re asleep now, but i’m free to keep you company if you’re still up

My screen lights up before I can put it back into my pocket. Why is she facetiming me? This can’t be serious? My thumb hovers over the ‘accept’ for a second, quickly tapping it.

“Hi,” her voice softly rings through my ears. God, she’s so cute.

“Helloo,” I say, matching her volume, “I definitely wasn’t expecting you to be up.”

“I just can’t sleep lately,” Poor thing.

“Well then,” propping my phone up against a glass, “lucky for you, I’m always awake into the wee hours of the morning.” I glance over from the POS.

“Doesn’t help when you don’t clock out until after two in the morning, huh?”

“You would be correct,” I let out a small laugh, taking a quick scan of the room. She tucks some hair behind her ear, then leans into her hand.

“Do you have much left to do?”

Clicking the power button on the screen, “Mmm, no, I’m actually done.” She smiles at my response. SHE SMILED.

Flipping the lights and locking the doors behind me, I start up the stairs to the apartment.

“I need to say hi to Josh real quick, so I’ll just put you in my pocket for a second?”

Her small laugh sounds like heaven, causing my own grin to grow across my face.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I softly knock on Josh’s door a few times before opening it, sliding my phone into my front pocket.

“Hey, I have a proposition for you,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m listening.”

“Would you like to take the earlier shift tomorrow and then be able to see Quinn?” I raise my eyebrows, knowing that if it involves Quinn, he will always say yes.

“Obviously,” his voice suspicious.

“Done deal. I’ll close so you two can spend some time together.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me before questioning me, “You’re being too nice to me… what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, I just know you’ve been working a lot, and Quinn’s free tomorrow, sooo,” I giggle.

His eyes squinted, “I'm not going to argue it.. How was your night?” His tone going back to normal.

“Not terrible, but I’m exhausted,” I lie.

“YOU’RE TIRED?” Loudly escapes him, clutching his heart dramatically.

I laugh, “Shocking, isn’t it?” To which he just nods.

“Sleep well. Love you bub.”

“Love you too, kiddo!” ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Sorry about that,” I whisper, softly shutting my bedroom door.

“You shouldn’t lie to your brother.”

My eyebrow raises at her comment, “And what am I lying about?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, “I’m exhausted,” she mocks me. I can’t help but laugh at her; I wasn’t prepared for her to make fun of me.

“Well, shit,” I sit back on my bed, “you got me, huh?”

I can see some color creep into her cheeks, making my heart shake.

“Hold on, I’m just gonna set you down,” I toss my phone onto my pillows. Grabbing the navy sweatshirt sitting on the end of my bed. I slide my shirt off, quickly pull the sweatshirt over me, then toss my jeans into my closet.

I move myself up to lean against the wall, grabbing my phone and taking her in while she’s looking off to the side. The freckles on her cheeks look like they were individually painted on. Perfect.

I catch a glimpse of myself, rubbing just underneath my nose a few times before just settling into my usual fidget.

“You look cute,” she says, just above a whisper. I feel my face warm as I gaze at her through my phone screen. I gently pick at my lip as I fight the smile threatening to come out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, um,” she quickly says, I can see the subtle panic on her face.

“No, no, it’s okay. I uh,” I stammer a bit, “I just think that you’re the cute one here,” I spit out as fast as I can.

“Jacob quit it!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” I giggle, “Trying to break that pesky lying habit or whatever.”

She rolls her eyes at that, fighting the smirk on her face. We both just stare at each other for a second before she finally breaks the silence.

“So, you’re working again tomorrow night?”

“Mhm,” I watch as she rubs her eyes. “Do you want to go to bed?” She quickly shakes her head, ‘No.’

She quietly adjusts herself so she’s almost lying down on her couch; this isn’t going to last long.. oh? Hearing the faint sound of a sea shanty, I know and love.

“What are you watching?”

“Pirates of the Caribbean,” her lazy smile wide, “it’s the third one.” Oh god, you’re killing me.

“Hoist the colors high” I sing along under my breath.

I’m genuinely unable to look anywhere except for her; the way her smile hasn’t faltered since I clocked her watching pirates. Her eyes struggle to stay open as the lights from her TV flicker across her face.

“Go to sleep, hun,” keeping my voice soft, “You can text me as soon as you wake up.”

She blinks incredibly slowly, followed by a sigh. “Okay,” she murmurs. She waves quickly, tucking her hand back under her chin.

I send her a small finger wave, lingering for an extra second to take her in, “Goodnight,” I whisper before hanging up. Oh, I’m so fucked.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Sunday

“Have you tried any of those dating apps? You know, the swipey game-like ones!” Josh says, sounding a bit too excited.

“I think I’m good on those.”

“What about the lovely redhead you have a crush on?” he presses further.

“I told you, it’s not like that.”

Not pleased with that response, he rebuts, “Well, you need to get a girlfriend at some point.” He glances over to Quinn for a second before turning back to me. They’ve been sitting at the bar since he clocked out a while ago. I swear they hang out just to torture me.

“It is a little strange, Jake..” They start, “You haven’t dated at all since I’ve known you.” Putting on their best ‘I feel bad’ face.

“How is it strange?” I don’t know why I asked.

The smile on their face was telling enough, “Are you sure you’re not.. ya know?” Following it with a subtle head nod towards Josh.

“That would be a fun twist!” Josh spits out excitedly.

My jaw slacks at the question, “WOW. No, I promise I like women.” Shaking my head as I lean against the back counter, folding my arms over me.

“Sounds like something someone who’s-”

Josh laughs before he cuts them off quickly, “Oh Bug, he’s just woefully bad at flirting and can hardly speak up enough to grab the attention of the ladies who come in.”

“I’m right here, hello?” I scoff, quietly pulling out my phone.

Me: not my brother’s partner questioning if i’m gay or not

Charlotte: Well.. everybody is allowed to have questions!

Me: I’M NOT GAY DONT SIDE WITH THEM

I look up to see Josh staring at me, only to glance quickly at my phone, which is still in my hand. Shaking my head quickly with a slight frown, I avoid answering the inevitable question: “Who are you talking to?” I know it’s coming because I know my brother, and boy, oh boy, does he love to know everything and anything that happens.

As more people sit at the bar, I spend more time making sure that they’re all happy and just casually glance to the end, where Josh and Quinn are sitting. How they look at each other, like the other one created the stars and hung the moon, has always been so sweet to me. I haven’t seen Josh this happy in so long, and I’ll be eternally grateful to Quinn for being so good to him. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to come into his life.

I scan the room, seeing a handful of empty bottles and glasses. I do a quick lap through the tables to grab everything. I make sure to say ‘hello’ to any regulars who are in tonight while noticing a few fresh faces.

Seems like a lot of couples tonight. Seeing the amount of people sitting on the same side or the causal holding hands on top of the table. It’s all adorable to see; unfortunately for me, it’s always just witnessing romance.

Coming back to my rightful place behind the bar, I catch a glimpse of Quinn planting their lips on my brother’s cheek. I can’t catch a break.

Bzzt.

Charlotte: Can we Facetime when you’re done working? I’ve napped too much today and I’m going to be awake all night.

Me: i’m honored, of course we can ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Flipping the lock after the last customer strolls out, I can already feel my phone vibrate.

“Well, aren’t you just breathtaking?”

There she is, with her long red hair tied into possibly the most messy bun imaginable, in a too-big sweatshirt, curled up in what must be her bed this time. She looked like she had been napping all day, yet she was still insanely beautiful.

“It’s SO late, and you can’t hold that against me!”

“To be fair, you called me- I didn’t force this.” I tease, holding my one free hand up.

Her smile widens at my point, “touché, Jacob.”

After closing the bar and running upstairs, I prop my phone on the counter and rummage through the fridge.

“What are you going to make?”

“That is a great question,” I say, staring into my fridge with minimal options. Cooking at 2:30 am has always been a humbling experience, but at least I have company this time.

Grabbing the leftover soup Josh made, I pull out the smaller saucepan we have. I take the time to reheat it properly because it means getting to sit on FaceTime with her.

“What did you spend all day doing?” I ask mindlessly, “Besides harassing me while I worked.” I look at her, trying to contain my smirk.

“Oh, hush,” she waves her hand at the camera, “mostly watching movies and trying to not let myself work since it’s Sunday- well.. was Sunday and all.”

She still hasn’t told me what happened, even though I unfortunately figured it out. I won’t make her uncomfortable by asking, though seeing the way her face fell when she mentioned trying not to work makes me wonder if she has a hard time doing anything else.

“I’m glad you let yourself rest,” I tell her, “you’re allowed to take days for yourself.”

The look on her face is sinister as she says, “You should probably take your own advice there, Sir.” Letting out a small cackle, she knows she clocked me a little too fast on that.

I can’t decide if my body is warm because of her calling me out or the fact she called me ‘Sir.’ Either way, I dramatically let my jaw slack, clutching my chest just to hear her laugh again.

“You got me there, Red,” I admit.

“Have you taken a day off since I first came in?”

I simply shake my head. Maybe I do work too much, but what else am I supposed to do when I enjoy being there? The benefit of it being just downstairs as well is that I can visit my favorite place in the world within a matter of a minute. I know I could take days off and probably stand to at this point, but I also don’t know what else to spend my time doing. I’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing for this bar since I bought it almost two years ago. I spend most of my time with my brothers, and most of my friends have moved away for college or just to escape the cold. Can’t blame them.

“Jacob?”

Her voice pulled me out of my thoughts, causing her to giggle when I jumped at the sound.

“Lost you there for a minute, huh?”

I chuckle, “Maybe for a second, but I’m back now.”

We move off the topic of work quickly as she tells me about the movies she watched in between naps today. She loves older movies, and I tell her I’m sure she and Josh would have a field day talking about them. She’s watched everything from Casablanca to A Walk To Remember and The Notebook. It’s cute how much she loves romance.

“What other movies do you like?”

My eyes widened when I realized my other favorite movie was a rom-com.

“Hah, well, besides Pirates obviously, I uh-” I hesitate for a moment, worried she will think I’m just trying to play into it.

“You, uh, what? We’ve done this once before. You know you’re going to tell me,” she taunts me, and she’s absolutely correct. I want nothing more than to tell her anything she wants to know, which is definitely not stressing me out.

“Love Actually,” I spit out quickly, rubbing my hand over my face. I’m not embarrassed that I enjoyed it; it’s a good movie- a great movie, even. I just don’t think anybody aside from Josh knows that. We’ve spent countless Christmas seasons watching it multiple times leading up to the holiday.

“Are you serious?” she sounds mildly shocked.

I nod my head, waiting for her to poke fun at me.

“That’s precious.”

I was unprepared for her response, fully ready to defend myself, and all I could say was, “Oh.”

“If it weren’t October, I would put it on,” she says, and honestly, this woman will be the death of me.

“Good thing November is right around the corner,” I manage to mumble out, still taken aback by the subtle compliment. We sit in comfortable silence for a moment. I can’t help but try to make eye contact through a screen, but when she looks into her camera, it feels like a small jolt shoots through my body. What is going on?

I finally make it to my bedroom a while later; it’s now nearing 4:00 a.m. My phone is dying, and my exhaustion is creeping in, but not nearly as much as hers. Slowly but surely, she’s gotten more and more comfortable as we talk about anything that comes to mind.

I let my phone sit in my lap as I pull my shirt over my head, leaning forward to toss it onto the pile of laundry I should take care of. Grateful it’s a bit easier to get rid of my jeans without her seeing it. Still, I can’t help noticing how her eyes wander to my necklace.

“Sorry, I couldn’t take the subtle scent of beer anymore,” I speak lower, unintentionally.

She quietly clears her throat, “Oh, haha, that makes sense.” Her eyes darted away from the screen as if she were caught.

It was quiet for a moment until she let out a yawn, trying to hide it in her elbow. Her eyes stayed closed for a second longer.

“Why don’t you go to sleep?” I whisper, “It’s 4:00 am.”

Her eyes slowly open to look at me. I can’t tell what she’s feeling besides being exhausted. She sighs slightly before whispering back, “But I want to talk to you.”

My breath catches at her statement. She wants to talk to me? My heart feels like it could explode at any moment, and my hands start to shake.

I nervously laugh, “What if I go to sleep too?”

Her lazy smile creeps across her face. “Promise?” She sticks out her pinky to me.

“Promise,” I return the gesture quickly, “You can even bug me later if you want.”

Her tired giggle engraved into my brain, “Just you wait.”

“I’ll be on the edge of my seat.”

“Goodnight, Jake.” Jake.

“Sweet dreams, Red.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | FDOG Playlist

Reply or fill out this form to be added to the Taglist!

Taglist:

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @dont-go-home-without-me @literal-dead-leaf

@lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr @edgingthedarkness @writingcold

@i-love-gvf @takenbythemadness @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf @gretavanfan

@jazzyfigz @smoking-jakelane @demonrat444 @threadofstars

@hollyco @anythingforjtk @woyayaofdreams @musicspeaks @wrldabomination @josh-iamyour-mama

38 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 1 year ago

Text

Tea Kettle

Rupert Giles x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: literally nothing but smut, bj, unprotected smut, gray sweatpants (drooling)

Author’s Note: as always, smut is NOT my forte but i like to throw it out there every once in a while and he..id let him do things to me i wouldn’t confess to in church idk

Requested: by anon, i would do anything for rupert giles smut😫

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“I don’t know, maybe you should both come out to the college and look?”

Buffy’s voice was borderline pleading. You had gotten used to her strength and independence. It was rare that she wanted help so admittedly. You suspected an ulterior motive, but didn’t say anything about it immediately.

“We can be there by dinner if you think you need it,” you said, honestly. Giles was in the shower. You could hear the sound of the water hitting the bathroom tiles. The gentle movement of his body as the pressure shifted. “But I think you’re just getting used to college and you want some normalcy.”

“I’m a big girl. If I felt that way, I would say it!” There was a beat of silence as you waited, toying with the phone chord. She let out a deep breath. “Willow has Oz. It’s weird!”

“It’s your first night. You’re gonna be okay.”

“If Giles had answered this phone call then he would already be in the car,” she complained.

“He’s a pushover.”

“I know! That’s why I like him!” You both laughed gently. You wanted to be there for Buffy, your natural inclination was to go to her. She had been like a daughter to you through her high school years, despite the fact that you were mildly close in age. You just happened to graduate a couple of years before she did. But you knew the feeling of independence needed to come from allowing her to fly. She was a big girl. She could do it.

“Buff.” She let out a soft sigh. “I’m not saying you’re on your own. I’m just saying you need some distance and some growth.”

“I’ve grown,” she pleaded. “I’ve killed a lot of people you know.”

“Vampires.”

“Potato potato.”

“You’re a big girl and it isn’t going to hurt you to stay a night with Willow like a sleepover.”

“God, you’re such a mom.” You snorted. The bathroom door opened. You craned your neck to the hallway from where you were sitting on the couch. Rupert was drying his hair, wearing gray sweatpants and a shirt. You raised an eyebrow. He didn’t notice, walking into the kitchen and fishing for the tea bags.

“Have a good night's sleep Buff. If you still need us tomorrow, call.” “I will. Thank you.” She hung up the phone. You put your back on the receiver.

“What did Buffy need?” Giles asked from the kitchen. His voice was smooth, the accent clear. He had sung some in the shower. It was a testament to how close he was with you.

“She was feeling a little homesick,” you admitted. “She’s gonna be okay.” You turned your body completely, putting your arms up on the couch back. You watched him through the kitchen window, his back turned to you. You could see his arms defined as he started to pour some water into his tea kettle. You put your chin on your hands, admiring him.

“We could’ve gone down to see her,” he said.

“She needs space.” He shrugged and glanced back at you. He did a double take when he noticed the wide eyes you were giving him.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Admiring the view.” He chuckled nervously. No matter how long you had been together, he remained slightly flustered at your words. “When did you get those sweatpants?”

“I found them in my drawers when I cleaned them the other day.” He was still looking for a job after the library burnt down. He had plenty of time for house maintenance and random spring cleaning duties. “Why? Do you like them?”

He came around the kitchen corner. You lifted your head up a bit and nodded, probably a little too eagerly. You reached your hand over the couch and nimbly grabbed at the chords on his pants.

“They look nice,” you said, looking up at him. He raised an interested eyebrow.

“I’ve just put the kettle on,” he told you, though his voice gave him away. Raspy, intrigued.

“So?” you teased. He let out a shaky breath.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, dipping down to kiss you. You strained your neck to kiss him back, putting your hand around the nape of his neck. He completely succumbed to you, easily, without more complaint. It had been so long since Rupert had known a love like yours and he was so consumed by it that it almost hurt. Your mouth opened a bit, to give way for his tongue, which entered quickly. You let out a brief breath, pulling away and diving back in. Because he was still standing (though hunched), you had perfect access to his waist line.

You slid your hands up his shirt, to the hem of his pants. He shuddered at your cold touch. His hair was still wet, dripping onto your face as you kissed. You gripped his pants, holding onto the top and slowly, slowly, moving them down. He groaned against your lips at the slow movements. Before you got too far, you stopped kissing him and sat up. He watched as you hopped over the couch so that you could properly get on your knees for him.

He put his hand on your cheek, your jaw. You looked up at him. He turned on his heels so he was leaning against the couch. Your fingers were still on his pants, not daring to move them any lower.

“Rupert,” you breathed.

“Hmm,” he moaned. “C’mon love,” he whispered. He put his other hand on yours. You tugged a bit, teasingly. He groaned.

You finally pulled all the way down, his boxers and pants falling to his ankles. His dick sprang to life. You almost made a comment about how eager he was despite his age, but repressed it. You wanted him inside of you.

You wrapped your lips around him, starting to bob your head without any more thought. You could hear his moaning and it only prompted you forward. He put his hand on the back of your head, bunched in your hair. You used his legs to sturdy yourself.

“Good lord,” he muttered, head falling back. You went on like that for a couple of minutes, always impressed with his ability to last. When you finally came up for air you were covered in him. You looked up with doe eyes that drove him insane. “Get up here.”

“Yes sir.”

You stood up, ignoring the tingling in your knees. He helped you by placing you on the back of the couch. You held your hands around his cheeks, cupping them as he worked at your pants. Once he started he was always eager to get inside you. The words that slipped from his mouth were unintelligible and loving, rough but careful.

You kicked your pants onto the floor. He put himself against you. He met your gaze. He looked at you with longing, lustful. You smiled loopily, your grip still on his cheeks.

“Rupert, c’mon,” you muttered. He took your go ahead and shoved himself inside you, wet by your need. He put his head against your shoulder as he started to thrust, no thoughts given towards anything except his desire. Rupert had never been a quiet lover and his grunts proved it. You hung your head back, feeling as he moved inside every inch of you, each thrust long and hard. What he lacked in speed he had in stamina.

You let out a yelp as he hit the right spot, your hair falling between the gaps of your back. You brought his face back up and kissed him, hungrily, his lips moving around by scarcely finding the right spot. It would’ve made you smile if you weren’t so tied up.

“God,” he whispered, voice coming out desperately needy. Shaky. “I love you,” he groaned. The tension in your stomach grew as he kept hitting just the right spot. With each thrust you grew closer. “Are you close?” he asked. You nodded, quickly, forgetting to stop.

“Is it okay-”

“Go ahead,” you grumbled. You didn’t want him to stop. You were on the pill. You pushed the danger aside and pulled him closer to you with your leg wrapped around his waist.

His thrusts began to get sloppier but you hardly noticed, your own high coming over you. Your legs shook, gripping his body to keep you steady, in case you fell backwards onto the couch. He let out a long moan, indicating his own release.

You let out a sigh, blissful.

He stayed inside you, coming down. You hummed.

“I’ll wear the pants more often,” he said, chuckling. Your laughter mixed in with his as the tea kettle started to whistle. You looked behind him and he followed your gaze, the laughter continuing. He moved out of you, the emptiness almost unbearable. “I’m going to get us something to wash us up,” he said. You nodded once.

You pushed yourself off the couch and walked over to the kitchen. You took the kettle off the stove.

#rupert giles x reader #rupert giles imagines #rupert giles x fem!reader #rupert giles smut #spicy tag

200 notes · View notes

yuurei20 · 1 year ago

Text

Ace Info Compilation part 10: Standing Up

Ace standing up to people in positions of authority who are objectively stronger than himself is a running theme: he accuses Trey directly of enabling Riddle (calling him pathetic), stands up to Riddle’s tyranny in Book 1 despite knowing his painful history, is the first student in Book 3 to try (and fail) to stand up against Azul, defends Epel from Vil in the opening of Book 5 and argues with Vil outright about his strict lifestyle rules, getting poisoned for his efforts.

Ace also tells Leona that it is “typical” for him to be “skipping out on the actual work,” saying, “Aren’t you supposed to be a housewarden? How about showin’ some leadership?” to his face.

Even after Leona proves himself Ace says, “I admit that’s helpful, but still…”

Ace is also harsh with Riddle outside of the main story, despite being his own housewarden: when Riddle loses his temper at a ghost during phantom bride (the ghost called him short) and sets it on fire, Ace scolds him for ruining their plans, saying, “You’re the lousiest suitor out of anyone who’s come so far!” despite Riddle’s apology.

Ace has a habit of saying the quiet part out loud in general, even when he is speaking to an upperclassman.

He insults Trey’s singing to his face and behind his back, teases Leona about Cheka, says that, for Diasomnia, Lilia is unusually friendly and complains about Jamil’s food in front of him.

Ace also pressures Rook to admit that he actually voted for Neige during the VDC as a devoted fan rather than because he was impressed with Neige's performance.

When Vil offers to compensate the VDC team for the prize money that his overblot made them lose out on, almost every team member immediately promises to donate their portion to Ramshackle dorm, with Ace following with, “talk about peer pressure.”

Deuce also struggles with the pressure to donate (“That money would go a long way for my family. But still…”) and Ace assures him, “Oh, I’m taking the money…I’ve been eyeing some new clothes and shoes lately.”

In exchange for keeping his prize money, Ace says he will treat the prefect and Grim to lunch at the school cafeteria. (Deuce offers lattes and dessert.)

Jamil says that Ace is closer to the third-year students in the basketball club than himself and Floyd and Ace himself says that he gets along well with upperclassmen from other dorms, so it is possible that he is just not intimidated by older students in general, thus why he is always able to speak his mind so freely (possibly a result of his older brother’s influence).

Riddle might be the only person who see call Ace out on his casual way of speaking to his upperclassmen, saying that Ace’s use of phrases like “stuff my face” is not any way to speak to his housewarden, he uses “uncouth language” and he wishes that Ace would dress properly more often as he can look like “quite the gentleman.”

Ace does, however, use honorifics with his, upperclassmen, referring to the 2nd- and 3rd- year students as “first-name-senpai.”

He refers to his fellow 1st-years just by their first names and he calls Sam, “Sam-san.”

He usually just calls Riddle “Housewarden,” but he will sometimes say “Housewarden Riddle” as opposed to Deuce’s “Housewarden Rosehearts” (every member of Heartslabyul on the main cast refers to Riddle in a different way.)

Ace teases Jack for looking so out of place as a “buff and brawny” person from Sunset Savanna at Heartlsabyul.

Jack points out that he is from the Shaftlands, to Ace’s surprise (“I thought everyone from there was all flashy and dapper and stuff.”)

Riddle insists that he sees “nothing amiss” about Jack being in the lounge and scolds Ace for being so narrow-minded about other countries and cultures.

#twstace #Twisted Wonderland #Ace Trappola #twstfacts #acefacts

101 notes · View notes

luvvixu · 6 months ago

Note

Let gooo!

But seriously I’m only one here who doesn’t feel a ton sorry for Satoru? I know satoru getting assaulted by Yukie is wrong and there no excuse for that.

But kind of don’t totally blame her. I mean Satoru treated y/n shit for 5 years straight and all of a sudden one drunken night spent together she get pregnant and he all of sudden started to treat her well and just gave her some human decency and wanted to work on and fix his marriage. 5 years of marriage of hating her and being a ass to her when she didn’t nothing wrong to him and didn’t want this marriage either. Now she get pregnant and gave a preterm birth to their son because he was still mad about her and complaining about her too! When she treat him so well even tho he was ass to her. She still cook for him, getting him his favourite treats, running his bath for him meanwhile he still treats her badly and doesn’t feel guilty about it until when a baby is involved and their both nearly lose their lives. Now he all guilty about how he treats her and cheating on her.

He was all like I’m suffering too! Like bitch how exactly? She didn’t abuse you or cheat on you, insults you or didn’t avoid your existence etc. All you had was You don’t know how much pressure I take just because of that Fucking marriage and everyday that I woke, another constant nagging from these bastards of higher ups, I’m getting so, so tired and I just want to….

And that it nothing about y/n behaviour or how she treats him. He just seems to hate her because he was forced to get married despite she didn’t want this either. So he taking all of hatred on her because he can.

So I can’t really blame Yukie here because imagine how your lover who seems to hate his wife with every fibre and inch of his body that he was forced to marry.All a sudden decided to stop hating her and want to fix their marriage?? Because of one night stand and she gets pregnant??? Now you want to gave this marriage a shot because a baby is involved now??? 5 years of hatred and resentment is suppose gone now? And you’re telling the woman who you didn’t want to let go of. Once she found out you’re married man because you told her that you really love her and not your wife. You love her so much that a year ago you promised to her that you would leave your wife for her and in the present you were still seeing her even when you find out that your wife was pregnant with your baby. You were devoted yourself to her just 2 weeks ago. Only just when you think your wife and baby are going to die. You want to suddenly stop seeing her and fix your marriage just like that.

Sorry for the long rambling rant😖😭

I'M CRYING THIS IS THE BEST SUMMARY OF A FANFICTION OVER 17K WORDS LOL

thanks for this anon, this is actually my cue to drop some explanations and I ACTUALLY LOVE READING YOUR RANTS LIKE IF I WASN'T THE AUTHOR, I WOULD DO THIS TOO!!

anyway, let's get serious about this. i've read a lot of these things about how satoru should not end up with the reader and how he deserves bad things for doing this or that. i've also seen a lot of comments about satoru suddenly changing.

i think it's time for me to drop some hints, facts, and a lil spoiler about mind over matter. take note, this is long so pls bare w/ me.

background facts about mind over matter

i created this ff because i really love the song entitled mind over matter by young the giants and got really inspired by its meaning. if you listen to the song, you'll get a hint because that song literally describes the trope between satoru and the reader, at least.

this story has a lot of psychological and philosophical theories (i think this is a perk of being a psychology student?? lol) and ideologies because this is the life we lived in. although this story is purely made by the fragments of imagination, there's still a chance that this occurs in real life. and i only think rational and logical.

the end

OKAY IMMA START WITH THIS CUZ A LOT OF Y'ALL WANTED THE READER AND SATORU WOULD NOT END UP TOGETHER

ahem, so i know most of y'all are angry at our boy and i understand that. however, i hope you are not forgetting that this is an x reader sooo...

nah im just kidding! there are still some x readers where the ships doesn't end up together—i've actually done this once and it's on the 'the end', a gojo satoru angst oneshot. but does that mean im going to use that ending on this mind over matter? we'll see.

i actually already plotted the ending and after see y'all's comments, i don't think you all are going to like it, i'm afraid. but nevertheless, i will still try my best to make the best of it. so i hope you won't get angry nor disappointed in me :((

and lastly, i will based the ending on how the reader and satoru perceived the tragedy happened in chapter 5. do you get the hint???

satoru's hate trail

satoru was getting a lot of hate because he did some nasty things to the reader like cheat, emotionally abuse, neglect, argue, ect. i would be angry too because i do not tolerate these kind of acts. but if we become a person who has holistic perspective (meaning in my own words: by being objective, we look on both sides before making a judgement), no matter how much we hate this person, we had to see his side. which in this case, we still hadn't see his story completely.

here's a hint about satoru's side: think of yourself as someone who literally carries the safety of the world and is in constant pressure to the point of you developing a fear of failing and losing. you are in a state of big actions comes into a bigger responsibility. what would you feel? what would you do to escape this bullshit reality?

satoru got manifested a maladaptive coping mechanism. this is where people use strategies to manage stress, anxiety, or difficult emotions that may provide short-term relief but ultimately worsen the situation or create additional problems. in this case, satoru was in a constant pressure and stress because of expectation as being the strongest, plus, the things happened during his childhood till adolescence adds fuel to the fire. then this marriage came and satoru loses his mind because he thought someone was controlling him, which we all know, is not.

he never meant to hurt the reader or do those things. that was only the results of his maladaptive coping mechanism. some of the scenarios of this mechanism involves distraction, avoidance, and overcommitment could be observed. he does the things he doesn't wanted to do just to ignore what is happening. BUT that doesn't mean WE are going to let this or HIM slide, yeah?

personally, i don't hate satoru that much in this story even if let's just say im not the author. i know he was such a bad guy and even if he change, there's still a history left behind. but since i'm someone who trained themselves to have a deep understanding and patience, especially that i'm a psychology student, i know satoru would eventually get what he deserve both in good and bad way.

the marriage

now let's talk about marriage, let's see what satoru and reader feel about it:

on the reader, she doesn't want it because it deprives her from chosing what she really wants for herself, like finding someone to marry on your own. but growing up in a clan where your moves are limited and no matter how shitty they were, you couldn't tear yourself away from them. the readers are lacking of validation and support from their own blood—that explains why she still in for this marriage because she still hasn't realize that she can receive what she is searching aside from her family.

on satoru, he doesn't want it too. he feels like this is suffocating him even though the reader did not show any interest on hurting him. but little did y'all know, satoru was looking for someone to blame for all of the things that happened to him. and guess what? he blames it on the closest involved, which are you and the higher-ups. this behavior is called scapegoating. this involves unfairly pointing blame or responsibility to an innocent individual, often to deflect attention from the true source of the problem or to avoid personal accountability.

but what makes the marriage stay intact for over 5 years? easy, they both ran away from addressing the real issue.

i know i've mentioned in one of the chapters that the marriage was on the verge of getting divorced. but the reason for that is because despite all of their personal challenges that greatly affects the marriage, they somehow found themselves into the comfort of their circle. meaning, they still hold on to the very last string of hope that everything could still be fine.

the reader's resiliency

the reader could've divorce satoru long long ago. but what stops her from doing so? simple, her family and empathy for satoru.

it was actually supposed to be sympathy for satoru. but there is a great difference between sympathy and empathy. let's break it down for a lil time. sympathy is where you're acknowledging another person's emotional hardships and providing comfort and assurance. while empathy is you are deeply understanding and sharing another person's feelings and experiences.

here's an example. the scenario is that your friend loses their pet: sympathy, "i'm so sorry for your loss. losing a pet must be really hard." and then empathy, "i understand how hard it is to lose a pet. i know the pain you're going through. let me know how can i support you."

see the difference? good.

ok, enough with the philosophy lesson. this may sound idk, confusing? but this is what the reader feels about satoru as of chapter 5, she had lost her faith in him as her husband but she trusted him a lot as her fellow sorcerer. she understands what he has been going through, and it's a little incomparable to her situation. the reader's back only carries her family, while satoru carries the whole world.

that was the leading reason why despite all of those things that happened, she possesses a deep understanding, patience, and support to the man even if it would destroy her in the process.

our reader is a hero, she's a tough woman. so we cannot just say that she should leave the guy and for another man when she's still not ready to let go of her principles inside this marriage. but of course, we would see what would happen next on the following chapters.

the mistress

i intended to make yukie michiga as an admirable woman. i've actually never seen a fanfiction yet where the third party is not aware that their partner was taken. so maybe, that's why i made her that.

but love blinded us all. we are the victims of love. an own witness of a broken down affair.

i actually love the character i made for yukie michiga. she was a fruit of a harsh reality that no matter how well you are as a person, there's still other factors that would destroyed you and forces you to cross the path you don't plan to.

yukie was against the idea of satoru cheating on you with her. she really tried her best to stop the affair but the love and selfishness wins.

satoru has lots of hook-ups and one night stands from before. but he decided to settle to yukie because he couldn't get enough. that's why her love grow and grow until it overflowed, and now, the self she was before has drowned and the corpse of her has comes to life.

kazuki, the baby

i don't have anything to say on our little sunshine who's unaware of his surroundings but he is the ray of hope for the reader and satoru.

satoru doesn't actually hate the baby even if he shown signs of not wanting the child but he really doesn't hate it. well in fact, he thinks that despite the baby is the fruit of two drunk and impulsive action, kazuki was innocent.

but the reader is innocent too? so why would satoru hate her? we'll never know.

anyway, kazuki be kazuki. he's a cute of mixture of the reader and satoru. since he's a preterm, i cannot say much yet on his appearance. but y'all are too lucky cuz imma say; his hair comes from you, his eyes are from satoru ofc, his complexity hmm maybe satoru? but yeahhh, so sorry i sucked at genes but y'all can think what does kazuki looked like as long as it's adorable cuz he's adorable!

nanami?!

UMMM I WAS A LIL SHOOK WHEN SOME OF Y'ALL MENTIONED THAT THE READER SHOULD'VE ENDED WITH NANAMI INSTEAD OF SATORU

and i must say, i was really taken a back cuz i never thought of that. should i do that? wouldn't it be a nanami x reader instead of gojo x reader?

anw, im so sorry to break it all to y'all, i don't plan doing that nor taking it into a consideration. why? because i have a better plan and i hope y'all gonna favor it.

here's a clue: i really admire how i paint the reader as the most resilient—yeah, that will continue to live. k bye that's it.

nanami was just a good friend for both the reader and satoru. he's good in his own and he's really helpful to those he held dearly, and that would stay that way.

sudden change

we're now down to final discussion for this post. i have a surprise at the end so better read this one out.

saw again a lot of comments, saying why does this satoru dude suddenly change after the reader is on the verge of dying...and other stuffs like that

but lemme asked you, can you handle a guilt and conscience when its other's life we're talking about?

in satoru's defense, this whole incident from the pregnancy complication serves as a biggest slap into his face, the coldest water ever drenched in his body, and the highest caffeine in his system—basically, his cue.

i don't remember saying that satoru doesn't really care for you anymore. he still have humanity towards you because deep inside him, he cares for you, but his exteriors tell otherwise. that's probably why ppl are confused and enraged about his instant care.

i think it's my fault for not clarifying it on the chapters so pls do forgive. but heyyy, at least now you know.

and i've yap a lot, y'all ready right for the surprise? good! cuz here it is....[click me, trust me]

SOOOOOOOO, YOU'VE COME TO THIS END??? 😭 i hope i managed to clear up your questions, but if not, i'm only one ask away so pls do not hesitate

#luvvixu #💌 — we just got a letter #🗣️ — yap-papi

37 notes · View notes

notiddygothgf · 2 years ago

Text

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 !

synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.)

pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader, light takeomi x reader content warning: smut (esp this chapter) porn with plot, car sex, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, sexual tension, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse. word count: 7.1k authors note: can I just say... thank you all so much for all of your comments, reblog and support. It makes me so happy to see my writing has so many people hooked! sorry for the wait, just wanted to make it perfect for you all hehe <3 stay tuned for the next chapter! as always, comment suggestions ;)

WAKASA NEARLY FELL FORWARD from the force of your kiss. He detached – albeit very briefly – to smile against your lips. He pressed forward for another kiss, much more passionately this time. His tongue swiftly entered your mouth, and with it came a deep, guttural chuckle. His grip on your thighs tightened momentarily before you felt yourself being lifted off of the toilet altogether.

The gasp that escaped your lips at the sudden movement was swallowed up by Wakasa’s kisses. He teetered slightly before throwing your legs over his hips. It felt different this time, the way his lips danced against yours – sucking and licking in a way that had your head spinning. It felt like he was starving for more, even though he was eating you alive as it was.

You hadn’t realized he had begun walking with you wrapped around his waist until you felt the exposed skin on your back collide with the ice-cold bathroom wall. Holy fuck, okay, this was happening quickly. You shuddered at the unexpected contact, throat suddenly constricted by his warm hand. It was unexpected, it was dirty, but you would be lying if you said the feeling didn’t shoot right down to the growing warmth between your legs. You weren’t complaining, not when you could feel the heat of his core pressing right into yours, big and hard.

Bringing your hands over his shoulders and around his neck, you tangled your trembling fingers in his bicolored tresses. His grip on your neck tightened in response as he tilted your head to get a better angle into your mouth.

His fingertips applied pressure on all of the right areas, pushing down on your blood supply while still – just barely – giving you room to breathe. You wrapped your legs around the man, bringing him closer until his chest was pressed flush up against yours. The violent clash of teeth and tongue that came from the desperate lips exploring yours made your head spin with pleasure. That and his unrelenting grip on your neck.

Just as your eyes began to roll back you felt your lashes fluttering. Wakasa took his hand back without any further warning, and you gasped at the sudden rush of air that entered your lungs.

“Wait– Wait,” You panted. Between kisses, you managed to get out, “Take– he’ll know we… went missing–”

Wakasa stopped, but only to press his forehead against yours. His chest heaved as he panted for air. For a faint moment, almost believed he was going to have mercy on you, but then those pinkened lips of his pulled back into a knowing smirk. “He thinks I’m taking you home right now,” He licked his lips.

His hands found their way down to your thighs, grasping the disheveled fabric of your evening gown and hoisting it up around your waist. His breath was warm against your neck.

You made a surprised noise. “You’re taking me back to his house after this?”

“Nah, yours,” was all he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Or mine, if you want. I can go for round two.”

Under any other circumstance, you would have gotten flustered with him. But then you remembered where you were and what you were doing – cheating on your boyfriend with his coworker for the second time this month in the bathroom of some seedy VIP nightclub – and you figured you had long since moved past that.

This time, when he pressed against you, his bulge pressed deep into the fabric of your panties. You gasped, clutching at his broad shoulders, “Waka,” you whined.

His back was so toned, so strong, fuck, it was turning you on like crazy and you had no idea why. You could slide your fingers over the muscular valleys of his shoulder blades for hours. When the tips of your nails caught his skin, you felt him shudder.

“I wanna fuck you so bad right now,” He panted. His leg nestled itself between your bare thighs.

He liked that…

You were throbbing. You wanted nothing more. It was kind of funny – the way your hips began moving on their own, rutting against his thigh like a desperate whore just to take the edge off. It was like you were made for him.

He brought you into another searing kiss. He let you ride his thigh, keeping you pinned there against the wall.

“So fucking hot,” He practically moaned into your mouth. His words came out a little bit slurred, but it could have been because he said those words right up against your lips.

You doubted yourself suddenly. “Waka, wait,” you said, bracing your hands on his chest and then pushing him away from you slightly. “We’ve been drinking”

“Drunk actions are a sober man’s thoughts,” He retorted. The smile that followed after his words made you feel butterflies. “Trust me, doll..."

This was wrong. Very wrong. But the moment you felt his hand slip between your sweaty bodies and brush over the waistband of your panties, you threw what was left of your morals out the window.

“I’ve been thinking about ripping these off of you all week,” He purred. He snapped the waistband against your stomach.

His experienced fingers traced over the damp spot in your panties. Your body betrayed your will, leaning into his touch. You wanted this. You wanted this so fucking bad it hurt .

“You want that, baby?” He asked you. His eyes were half-lidded and dark, pupils blown wide as he licked his lips. "I won’t do nothin’ if you’re unsure.”

“What if Takeomi finds out?” You asked timidly. It was a bit late to be thinking of him but, still, you couldn’t help it.

“He won’t,” Wakasa smiled breathlessly.

It was getting a bit hard to focus when his thumb was rubbing up and down – slowly – between your clothed folds.

“He’ll kill you, you know,” You shook your head. “He’ll kill me.”

The ball was in his court now.

“Your man knows I can beat his ass,” He chuckled. Fuck, he looked so pretty you couldn’t do anything but trust his word. His index finger toyed with the bottom of your drenched panties, tracing the lace pattern on the hem. “You’re safe with me, promise.”

His words made you melt. This was just a hookup. You tried to remind yourself of that while your heart pounded away behind your chest.

“Okay,” You nodded slowly. Letting your hand act of its own free will, your fingers slipped beneath the neckline of his shirt. You felt him lean into your touch.

He smelled so good, so expensive. “I trust you.”

The smile Wakasa gave you could have powered the entire city of Tokyo with its warmth. His finger hooked beneath the fabric of your panties. “You want these off?” He asked.

Before you could answer, he was already lifting you up, sliding your panties over your hips, and then practically tearing them off of you. Then he kissed you again with an almost drunken fervor, knocking the breath from your lungs.

You felt your back slipping against the wall. He set you down on the handrail, having you sit there for a moment while he dropped to his knees. You watched keenly as he reached for his ponytail and promptly tugged it out.

You’d never seen him with his hair down but you decided that it was something you wanted to see more often. He carded one of his hands through his hair, it was… remarkably luscious for a man who fought and did crime for a living. He looked up at you as he pinched the hair tie between his teeth, sliding his hands back over his golden locks until he managed to collect all of them into a handful.

He turned his head to the side, slipping the hair tie onto the fistful of hair and then tying it up. He twisted his hands with considerable expertise, bringing the ponytail up into a bun and then immediately hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He splayed his hands out over your navel when he was done, licking his lips. One hand traveled south towards your dripping cunt, dipping two fingers in between the folds before spreading them apart. “Shit,” he noted. “You are wet .”

He stopped for a moment to look at you. Pussy soaked, legs spread wide open for him – you imagined you were a sight to behold.

“I’ve never seen such a pretty pink pussy,” He mused. “Bet you taste like candy.”

It was absurd, the effect he had on you. You felt yourself drip at his words. You rested your head against the wall, trying your best not to look at him. It was in vain, of course. One flick of his index finger over your swollen clit had you looking down at him.

“Wanna eat you out,” He looked desperate – face tinted pink, lips swollen and parted slightly. His eyes were trained right on the dripping mush he had created between your legs. You had never seen a man get on his knees for some pussy before, but the wild look in his eyes as he finally tore them away to look at you reminded you that you weren’t dealing with just anybody here. “Where do you wanna cum first?”

You tilted your head. First?

“I can’t decide if I wanna feel you cumming on my face,” He grinned. His eyes darted down to your pussy just in time for him to flit right over your hole. You clenched around nothing. “Or on my dick.”

You whined. “We’re gonna get caught if you don’t hurry.”

“Not even a taste?” He huffed out a slight little laugh, shaking his head. “Been thinking about it all week.”

He was fucking dirty, what the hell…

You were embarrassed, oddly enough, and dropped your head down to cover your face with your hands. “We can do that another time,” you answered. “I need you right now.”

If he had ears like a dog, they would have perked up at your words. Slowly, a grin crawled over his face. “Okay, yeah,” he said slowly, like he was taken aback by your words. “We can do that instead.”

Then he was back on his feet again, scooping you into his arms and then sealing your lips together. The way you felt your body melt into his touch seemed criminal. He was so strong for someone of such small stature, holding you up while he walked the two of you backward in a way that seemed almost effortless.

“‘M’g’nna ruin that pussy,” He mumbled into your mouth, smearing your spit down your chin. His tongue slipped between your lips with a satisfied groan.

It was messy, desperate, and it had you aching for him – you were sure you had to be leaving a snail trail on his shirt. He set your bare ass down on something cold. By the way the surface dipped below you, you assumed it was the sink. The feeling of something flat and cold against the back of your head confirmed your assumption.

His next words came as a hushed whisper against your tender lips, foreheads pressed together. “Think you can take me without any prep, baby?”

There was nothing more attractive to you than a man who knew his dick was big – especially not a man who had proven it.

You took in the first inch, having to pause to adjust yourself to the sudden thickness splitting you open from the inside.

Wakasa let his head back against the seat, biting his lip. His breaths, slightly ragged, began to fog up the windows. But he didn’t rush you. No, he let you take it at your own pace.

You slid down further and further, feeling yourself stretching around him like you were made for it, like taking it was your job. And then, right when you had gotten about halfway down on it, you looked at his pretty face. His pretty face flushed with pink, a shade which matched that of his eyes. His head was thrown back, hair beginning to stick to his forehead, and sweat beading at the base of his neck.

You swallowed. Shit. That was a good question. In fact, you weren’t so sure that you could.

You could feel it pressing into you at this level. He felt so warm.

“Yeah,” You smiled anyway. You were well aware of the fact that the two of you were running on a time crunch. “I want it.”

Wakasa grinned, reaching into his back pocket and letting you rest against the mirror. He pulled out his wallet, opened it up, and then picked out a foil square. He tore into the wrapper with his teeth, spitting it into the trash can.

You couldn’t take the wait. You gripped him by the collar of his shirt again, pulling him into another bruising kiss. He seemed prepared for it anyway, pressing up against you and deepening the kiss with a passionate sigh.

He pulled back to lick his lips. “Needy baby,” he said. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he fumbled for the zipper on his pants. You could feel him adjusting himself before he was able to slip the condom onto the head of his dick.

There was an almost painful moment that passed – however brief – as Wakasa pried your legs open and lined himself up with your entrance without breaking the kiss. You wanted him so bad – the throbbing heat between your legs was almost painful.

The distinct feeling of his tip making contact with the melting, dripping mess you had become in a matter of minutes brought you back to him.

Wakasa grinned against your swollen lips. “You want me to fuck you right here, princess?” he asked you. “With your clueless boyfriend in the other room?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, biting into your lower lip so hard you thought it would draw blood. You needed it. You needed him . “Need it–”

Wakasa’s eyes burned bright with desire, lilac irises lit like a sunset in July. He was so close to you now that you could hear his breath catch in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he purred. “How bad?”

On cue, you felt him dip the head of his cock in between your warm folds, just enough to tease. You wanted to grip him by the shoulders and sit on it, sheath the entire thing inside of you right here, right now, but he had you trapped against the sink, strong hands pinning yours down to the ceramic counter to ensure that you wouldn’t be able to get away. Your hips rutted up desperately in some feeble attempt to get friction. When he denied you such satisfaction, you whined.

“Beg for it,” Wakasa hummed, pressing his forehead against yours.

Once again, the effect this man had on you was almost alarming.

“Waka, please,” You begged him. He tilted your head toward him, lips ghosting over yours like he was getting off on seeing you all hot and bothered like this. His breath was warm against your lips. You could smell the liquor on his lips – it was intoxicating. Melting, you finished, “I need you.”

He teased his tip over your puffy clit. “Hmm… I’m not sold yet,” he said like it was nothing. A smirk grew on his face. He leaned in, toward your ear, and muttered, “Wouldn’t want you to regret it again, would we?”

Keeping your gaze trained out the window, you spoke again, “I’m telling you we can’t see each other again. Okay?”

For a moment, Wakasa looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to make you stay. Worst of all, you kind of wanted him to.

“You sure, princess? Don’t have nothing else to say to me?”

You did.

“No,” you affirmed. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

It was getting really hard to focus. “I didn’t mean it– any of it, fuck–” You seethed, just in time for him to tease over you another time. “I… I was talking out of my ass. Takeomi had me nervous about what would happen, and it was just…”

“Yeah?” He teased. He slapped his tip on your already sensitive bud, reeling in the way you lurched forward.

“Fuck– I’m sorry!” You gasped, words a stuttering mess. “Please, I’ve made up my mind, I…” Here you swallowed. “I want you, Wakasa! Fuck , I want you !”

Wakasa grinned. He licked his lips slowly, tantalizingly. Leaning down to your level, he captured you in another poisonous kiss – your head was spinning with desire – and then pushed in without so much as another word or warning.

“Fu-ck!” You cried out – and, really, cried was the only word you could use to adequately describe the gasping shout that was torn from your lungs.

It felt like you had been split open.

“M’gonna,” He grunted, pushing himself deeper into your aching hole until you were clawing at the sink. “G’nna make you eat those fuckin’ words, doll.”

He was so fucking big, fuck– you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. It hurt so good. Despite the way you were dripping all over him, going in with no prior preparation had you feeling like you were trying to start a bonfire.

Wakasa shuddered, pressing his forehead against yours as he exhaled shakily. “So tight, baby, fuck .”

The way he roughly gripped your hips elicited another gasp from your trembling lungs. You reached for his shoulders. The angle he was getting like this – with your legs around his hips, with your pretty pussy propped up on the counter just for him – made your mind go blank.

You felt him pull out of you, kissing your forehead before practically slamming himself back into you again. The whole sink rattled with the force of it.

The sinful, whiny moan that passed Wakasa’s reddened lips had you melting into him. “Fuck,” he gasped from the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. “ Shit .”

You threw your head back, as he thrust forward again. Your body jolted forward. The two of you sighed in perfect tandem.

Drawing your brows together, you felt the pain begin to subside. Pleasure began to take its place. You felt so full, fuck , he was scratching the itch you’d been having for the last week like it was his job.

“ Waka,” You whined. “S’good–”

Then he was picking up the pace, and you felt the back of your head begin to thump rhythmically against the mirror. It felt like it was going by so fast but you knew the two of you were on a time crunch.

It felt so good. The feeling of being seen by him after having spent the last week ignoring him made the sensations ten times more powerful. Seen, touched, wanted…It was different this time. You weren’t running away anymore.

Up and down, up and down. Wakasa appeared to be mesmerized by the way your tits were bouncing in that dress you were wearing.

Your hands began clawing at his back. You needed him deeper, closer. It was all too much and – at the same time – not enough.

Seemingly sensing – or sharing – your thoughts, he yanked you off the counter. Lifting you into his arms, he bent you over the sink, gripping your hair in his fist as he placed a kiss at the base of your neck. He continued peppering small kisses down the curvature of your spine. Unknowingly, you arched into his touch.

His touch felt so heavy, weighted by some emotion you felt your interactions with Takeomi lacked. Where your boyfriend's hands left cold, emotionless touches all over your body, his hands carved through your intricate curves and valleys like he was trying to memorize the layout of your trembling body.

You felt exposed like this – you usually didn’t take it from the back – it made you a little nervous. In the dirty mirror, you could see his eyes drop from your waist to your hips, and then down to the slick running down your thighs. He licked his lips, running his hands over your ass.

“Y’er so fuckin’ pretty, doll,” He exhaled sharply. Lifting his hand for a moment, he brought it down harshly against your tender skin, eliciting another small gasp. “Takeomi don’t know what to do with all of this.”

He eyed you up animalistically. You felt his tip glide through your folds – but only for a brief moment. During the span of three seconds, he’d thrust his hips forward until he was sheathed entirely in your warmth.

You cried out for him. “ Waka –”

He was so fucking deep . You didn’t even know how to begin processing the sensation, nerves burning with the sudden feeling of him bottoming out inside of you.

This time, he didn’t let a moment go to waste. He immediately opted for a faster pace, hips snapping forcefully against your ass as he resumed his slaughter of your sore cunt. From the looks of it, he had made wrecking you his mission.

“G’nna send you back to him with a limp,” He moaned. It was like music to your fucking ears. He slid into you with such force now that you lurched forward, bumping your head against the faucet.

With the slick of your arousal already dripping down your legs, he slid in and out of you with ease. Tangling his hand in your hair and looping the other around your waist, he grabbed a fistful and tugged your head back.

You gasped.

“Look in the mirror, baby,” He purred, directing your wide-blown eyes to the mirror in front of the two of you. The sight of him almost made you cum on the spot.

Disheveled strands of hair framing his wild eyes, it felt as if he was staring into your soul. His cheeks were dusted with a faint rosy hue, lips parted slightly as he panted in your ear. Sweat had begun to bead at his neck, sliding down over his collarbone and dripping down below the collar of his disheveled shirt. Another button had come undone somewhere between a few hours ago and now, revealing more tendrils of ink spanning the length of his chest and his torso – patterns of roses winding around him like vines. He had you enthralled.

For a moment, you burned for him; Like the flame of his passion was licking away at your skin and turning you to ash. Your heart felt full with so many feelings running around. Having him so close to you made you realize how much you had missed him all of this time.

His grip was strong on your waist and your hair, veins protruding from his strong hands. When you clenched around him, he bit his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Want you to look in the mirror while I make a – fuck – a mess out’ta you,” He added.

You couldn’t fight the pleasure. It was so much, it made your head spin. As his thrusts became more forceful, you could hear the wetness squelching as your pussy struggled to accommodate his girth. The glass soap dispenser on the edge of the sink began to jump.

“Waka, baby–” You tried to get out. Your sentence was broken as he slipped in deeper and you felt his tip bump your cervix. “Someone’s g’nna hear u– ghh ..”

Your vision went white for a few seconds. As the light faded and the blurry vision of your lover came back, you could just barely make out that devilish little grin of his as he pulled your head to the side – pressing kisses against your freshly exposed neck.

You heard – rather than felt – yourself drip onto the floor. “ Mmh !”

He mumbled against your sweaty skin, lips smearing spit around, “Does he fuck you like I do, princess?” He moved his hand away from your hair, bringing it around your neck and gripping you like a vice. “Bet your pussy only squirts for this dick, yeah?”

He filled you up perfectly, sliding against your abused g-spot over and over again in a way that had you dripping even more .

“Leave him–” You felt tears pricking at your eyes from the combined sensations of the overwhelming pleasure and the guilt. “Leave him out of this.”

“Tell me the truth,” He spat. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

“Please,” you panted.

His hips slapping against your ass – his dick filling you out and stretching you open – you felt the tears running down your face before you knew they were coming. It felt so good. It was overwhelming. The knot in your stomach was wound up real tight. Any minute now, he would push you over the edge.

He smirked at you in the mirror, releasing your throat to caress the back of your thighs. “Use your words, pretty girl.”

It was kind of hard to do that when his thrusts had your vision going white at the edges.

“No one else can fuck you like this,” He cooed. “Just me, yeah?”

He was right. He was so right it made you want to cry.

You pressed your cheek against the cold surface of the mirror, shaky breaths fogging up its clear surface. He bottomed out inside of you again, tip kissing your cervix. This time, he bent himself over you, thrusting forward at such an angle that he was hitting that sweet spot inside of you – and going so much deeper – with every snap of his hips.

Panting and moaning like a bitch in heat, you clawed at the sink. Your eyes were unfocused, mind going numb with pleasure as you desperately searched for something to grab onto for dear life.

“Say it,” he growled. Attacking the side of your neck, his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh. You clenched around him, tearing a whine from his chest.

“Jus’ you,” You gasped, lurching forward from the force of his thrusts. “Fuck– ‘s yours, Waka.”

It had been him all along. You had been his from the start.

His thrust threw you forward against the mirror. Your hand slipped, somewhere, and the glass soap dispenser fell off the side of the sink, colliding with the ground in a deafening crash.

You were going to say something, but you couldn’t. All that came out whenever you opened your mouth were a series of “ah”s and “mmh”s. It was as if Wakasa had rewired your brain; changed everything around until the only thing you could produce was a cry of his name.

At this point, the possibility of the two of you getting caught must have skyrocketed. As he pinned your hips down and beat your pussy up, your strangled moans became borderline screams.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” He cooed. “Can’t stop lookin’ at ‘ya.”

There it was – that overwhelming urge to give in. The urge to be held by him, to be claimed by him. The urge to belong to him, to be loved by him.

No. You couldn’t catch feelings. Not now, not when you were in this deep.

His hand slipped between your waist and the countertop, dipping down and teasing over the swollen red bud at the top of your pussy. He began flitting two of his digits over the little bundle of nerves.

The added sensation was too much to bear. You felt the warmth begin pricking at your thighs, tugging at something deep in your gut that threatened to snap any minute now. You were getting close – you could feel it in the way you felt your walls clamping down on him.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he growled.

It was his. It had been his since the first time. It would always be his. The answer was so simple that – in the heat of the moment – it seemed to slip out in the form of a desperate cry.

“ Yours, ‘S yours ,” You chanted like it was some sort of perverted mantra.

“All mine,” He said, kissing the back of your neck again. “G’nna cum for me, princess?”

Shit. You bit back a moan, feeling your legs tremble. The end was so near for you that you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to hold on for very long. Raking your desperate eyes over his chest in the mirror, you watched his head fall back.

“Mhm,” You mewled. His tip slamming into your sweet spot, his fingers rubbing tender circles over your clit, applying pressure in all of the right places – it was all too much to handle. “‘M g’n’a..”

“Shit,” He released a shaky breath. His thighs seemed to tremble against yours, indicating that he, too, was trying to hold on. He gasped out, lifting his head up to look at you in the mirror. Your eyes met, sending electric sparks all over your body. Your nerves burned with desire for him. “Don’t be shy, baby,” He panted. “Let everyone hear who’s making you feel good.”

“You,” You panted.

At his will alone, your moans increased in pitch. He had you pressed up against the mirror, breath hot against your own face, chest heaving as he pistoned into you from behind.

“Fuck, Waka, ‘M about to–” You gasped. You felt more of your arousal drip down your legs and onto the floor. Your words were discombobulated, your head jumbled by the mind-numbing pleasure that was quite literally coursing through your veins. “ Waka – wanna…”

“Go ahead, baby,” He smiled. Reaching forward to take a fistful of your disheveled hair, he pulled you back towards him and captured your lips in another deep, passionate kiss. His tongue found yours in a dizzying, lustful haze. Against your lips, he groaned, “Cum. Show me whose cunt this is.”

All it took was that last command, and your willpower shattered.

You felt your release catch up to you. With the little strength you had left, you sobbed for him. “ Waka… !”

His. That’s what you had been all of this time. You’d only been too blind to see it.

Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, knocking all of the wind out of your lungs as you lurched against him. Your hips slammed back against his as he fucked you – roughly – through it. Clenching around him, crying out for him, searching for his lips like a desperate whore, it was clear that your love for Takeomi had been an illusion.

It was him all along.

The feeling of your walls sucking him in like that had him gasping against your lips. His own orgasm hit him only a few seconds later, hard dick twitching inside of you as he spilled his seed into the condom. You felt like you were milking him dry.

“Ah,” he panted, letting his head rest against the mirror next to yours. He looked about as fucked up as you knew you did, hair plastered to his forehead, sweat sticking to the top of his skin.

He pulled out without much of a warning. You gasped at the sudden emptiness. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash bin.

“Shit,” You commented, chest heaving up and down.

Wakasa laughed breathlessly. “Shit,” he agreed.

Your legs were still shaking. He turned you over and let you sit on the countertop.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” He sighed, going in for another kiss almost immediately.

It took you a few long minutes to come back down to earth. Your skin was buzzing with post-coital bliss. Your lips felt tender as he gently sucked on them. The two of you parted with a quiet pop.

You averted your eyes. You knew that if you looked at him you would feel that thing, that little feeling stirring inside of you like leaves in an autumn breeze. Rather affectionately, you had given it the title of “thing” because you didn’t know what it was. The thought of what it entailed was enough to prevent you from doing any more digging.

It was – and would remain – just a thing. A thing that you would keep locked away within the deepest confines of your devilish heart.

“Takeomi’s probably wondering if I made it home,” You sighed with a breathless chuckle, resting your forehead against his. The moment felt so intimate, so uncharacteristically tender. Under normal circumstances, you would have put some space between the two of you to preserve the integrity of your feelings. You knew you didn’t have the strength to even do that.

“Probably,” he chuckled, eyes pressed shut. He hummed, pressing another kiss to your lips, one that you melted into. Finally, he pulled away, producing your panties out of seemingly nowhere and rolling them over your ankles. He pulled them up over your thighs, lifting you up for a moment to slide them over your hips. His lips kissed your inner thighs.

Reaching for the wrinkled skirt of your evening dress, he pulled it down to cover your legs. One last kiss was pressed to your forehead. “Let’s get you home, doll,” He sighed.

After such an intimate gesture, it took everything you had to ignore the way your heart warmed for him.

The ride home on Wakasa’s motorbike was different than last time. The awkward silence was gone, replaced by the warm thrum beneath your veins that you didn’t quite understand just yet. Being close to him felt nice. You brought your arms tighter around his narrow waist, resting your head upon his chiseled back. Even with the helmet over your head, you could feel the wind brush through your hair. It felt refreshing.

It had been a 15-minute ride so far. You knew the club wasn’t very far from home, of course, but you wished time would stop robbing you.

Wakasa had changed his hair into a bun, leaving two strands out to whip against the side of his face. You pressed your nose into his shirt, inhaling the scent you had grown to adore – expensive cologne, faint hints of smoke lingering on his skin along with the slightest hint of sweat. It was intoxicating.

You knew full and well that these thoughts were dangerous. But, still, after such a dramatic change of events, you couldn’t help yourself. Your legs still felt weak from the aftershock of what had gone down in the bathroom.

With a sigh, you turned your eyes to the city skyline. Tokyo looked so beautiful at night. The buildings loomed over the two of you – very briefly, of course – speckled with tiny windows of golden light. You could hear music, just vaguely, and you could see people rushing home in their cars as Wakasa merged onto the highway.

“Hold on, princess,” He had warned you. For a moment, you didn’t understand what he meant. But as he revved his motorbike and took off flying down the road, you fell into him with a shriek. Over the sound of the engine, you could just barely feel the vibrations from his laughter.

“Slow down!” You shouted. The wind whipped past you. There was no doubt in your mind that he hadn’t heard a single word you had just said.

Wakasa only shook his head. He turned his head to grin at you before looking back at the road and picking up more speed. Traffic flew past the two of you like you were warping through time. Wakasa weaved between cars and trucks with practiced ease.

His hand slipped between the bike and his lap, placing itself over your folded hands and rubbing small circles on your skin. It all felt so intimate. In such a non-sexual manner, too. It made your spirit ache for him. You knew you would be thinking about this for the next year.

Even when he let go to steer with both hands, you felt the warmth of his touch linger.

Continuing to speed through the highway, Wakasa eventually pulled towards an exit sign.

Shibuya District

1 MILE

You felt the smile fall from your face. Just as soon as the moment had begun, it had come to an end.

The two of you tilted to the right as he exited the highway. Though he slowed down, you felt the world spin as he hit the curve. You looked up toward the sky, silently marveling at the way the stars seemed to spin on their axis. It was this pretty shade of purple, like a midnight blue.

Wakasa sped up again, merging back onto the main roads – slower this time, but not by much. The buildings the two of you passed began to look familiar. You knew that you were close to home.

You wondered what Wakasa made of this whole situation, though you doubted it had torn him up inside the way it seemed to have done to you. His heartbeat was steady and calm despite how fast the two of you were moving – not just here on this bike. You envied him for his ability to stay calm, even in the face of such a dangerous situation, for it seemed that your heart went crazy every time he was nearby.

His touch felt like fire, like your skin was made of ice. He warmed you to your core. That couldn’t be a coincidence. By the looks of it, it seemed as if you had begun fostering some sort of feelings towards him. For a moment, you wondered if he felt the same way.

Then again, it didn’t matter, did it? You were a taken woman. The thought of getting on Takeomi’s bad side alone was enough to make you abandon that train of thought. You could never act on such feelings, however ambiguous they may have been.

But he was warm, so warm… You wanted to melt into him. These feelings of yours would surely get in the way of this … whatever ‘this’ was. So, instead of making these concerns known, you rested your head on his back again. You wanted to live in this moment forever.

He glanced back at you. You felt your heart warm again.

I’m such a fool, you thought after an exaggerated sigh. There was no turning back now. At this rate, you figured you might as well make the most out of whatever the hell the two of you had while it lasted.

A few moments later, you felt the bike roll to a stop. Wakasa kicked the stand up, letting the bike lean to the side. He tapped your thigh.

“We’re here, doll,” He hummed.

You whined, lifting your head from the warmth of his back. Still, you let him take the helmet off of your head and hang it on the handle of his bike. He turned to face you with a smile. “Text me this time, alright?”

You yawned, drawing the moment out as long as you could. You weren’t all that tired, not now, at least. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t have the secret desire for him to pick you up and carry you into the house.

Ugh.

“Wait a sec,” You stayed put, nestling your head back in between his shoulders. “Don’t wanna go yet.”

Wakasa laughed tiredly, shaking his head. “Don’t talk like that, doll” He sighed. “Y’er gonna make me go inside with you.”

He slid his hand over your knee when you didn’t lift your head up. You wondered if he, too, dreaded parting ways tonight – for some odd reason you just couldn’t explain.

“What’s stopping you?” You mumbled, though the words came out muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

You felt him laugh again.

“Go home, princess,” He replied, looking somewhere off in the distance. It was probably your house. “You know ‘m always a call away.”

Feeling your cheeks burn, you hid your grinning face in his back. His voice made you weak in the knees. His words made you crumble.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you sighed.

You didn’t want to go but tossed your leg over the bike and hopped off anyway. Feeling your skirt fall to your feet, you leaned down and dusted your legs off. When you looked back at him, you almost fainted.

He was looking at you like you were the only one in the world. And you were, at least on your empty street. His eyes, deep with adoration, lingered over your body. When they darted up to your eyes, you could have sworn you could see the ‘thing’. Whatever that was.

“Thank you for everything, Waka,” You bowed your head.

You hated to admit it, but Wakasa almost looked a bit sad to see you go.

He nodded towards you, “Be careful with that limp.”

With a slight roll of your eyes, you turned around and marched towards the house. You paused in your tracks, then turned back around, like you had forgotten something.

You swallowed. “Waka,” you called.

He was leaning over the front of the bike when you called his name.

“I have some tea inside, you know,” You trailed off, folding your arms over your cold body. Anxiously, you toed at the dirt. “You should come in and have a cup. ‘S the least I can do for you.”

He paused for a moment with his eyes wide, like he was thinking about your offer. He looked at the empty street, then at his bike, then back at you. Finally, he grinned as he shook his head.

You felt your heart speed up. You wondered what he would say.

Wordlessly, he turned off his motorbike and slipped over it. The moment you saw him approaching you, that entourage of butterflies was back with a vengeance, sending sparks flying up and down your body.

When he was right in front of you, he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You felt yourself melt all over again.

"Stay with me tonight," You sighed into his mouth. "Don't leave yet."

He sighed. He looked so pretty under the moonlight that you felt the same way right now about him. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

"We can have a sleepover," you giggled, turning back towards your house. You called the next words over your shoulder, "I'd hate to make you go home so late, y'know."

Wakasa followed close behind, kissing the back of your shoulder as he returned your quiet laughter. "Yeah?" He hummed into your ear. The sound made you shiver. "Though I can't promise you'll be getting much sleep with me around, doll."

He looped his arm through yours, letting you use him to keep your balance while the two of you climbed up the steps to your front door. As you reached into your purse and jammed the key in the door – for the first time that evening – the thought of your boyfriend didn’t even cross your mind.

It had been him all along, after all.

330 notes · View notes