#new word t-shirts for men
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]


synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing
word count: 8.6k
contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)
a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !
this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here
. . .
Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things.
From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket.
Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.
Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go.
She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.
Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week.
Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe.
One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.
She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people.
She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything.
Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’.
When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket.
She read his bio beneath.
‘Harry, 30
Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans
Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’
She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it.
As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words.
Harry: Hey, pretty dress
She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric.
Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :)
Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.
Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?
Harry: Something along those lines
Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours
Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials
She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.
Harry: I’m even more impressed
She smiled, watching him type a new message.
Harry: What brings you here?
She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it.
Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company
Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay?
Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay.
Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.
Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read
Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx
Harry: No problem, love x
Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end.
They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.
Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx
Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.
Y/N: omg really?
Harry: What? You don’t agree?
Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater
Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say
Y/N: You think so?
Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something.
Harry: Or the little deer from that movie
Harry: What was it?
Harry: Bambi!
Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi
Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !!
Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name
Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi
Y/N: Well what should I call you?
Harry: Anything you like, Bambi
. . .
Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering.
It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did.
And Bambi.
Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.
After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?
Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.
She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.
“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.
“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure.
Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.
She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.
He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving.
He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”
“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.
Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.
Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”
He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.
Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.
Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.
He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.
Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.
They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.
In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.
“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”
His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”
“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.
Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”
Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”
Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”
Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?”
“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.”
She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.
“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.
Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.
“M��kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.
“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.
She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”
“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.
. . .
“Mr. Styles?”
Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.
“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.
Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company.
Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people.
Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.
He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her.
It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.
When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.
But then he met his Bambi.
He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head.
Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.
For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office.
He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about.
Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath.
“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office.
He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?”
Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?”
“Cancel them.” He shrugged.
His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card.
He glanced at his phone when a text came through.
Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx
His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.
Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x
He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds.
Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.
People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car.
He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring.
She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally.
Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.
“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.
“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”
Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.
Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?
From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.
Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.
“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.
“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.
“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”
The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”
Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”
Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.
“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.
She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.
Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.”
With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped.
Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”
His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.
She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel.
“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy.
“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.
Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.
“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”
She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”
He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did.
“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.
Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.
Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”
His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”
She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”
Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”
Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”
“Come work with me,” He offered.
There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.
“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”
“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”
He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.
Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.
A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words.
. . .
Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean.
A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.
She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.
She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.
And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went.
Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.
Harry: Just outside x
She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door.
The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.
“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”
Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?”
“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly.
“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.
Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.
“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.
Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.”
Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.
As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved.
Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.
“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.
Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.
Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”
Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”
Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto.
Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.
Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.
He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”
Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”
Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”
Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”
Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy.
As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?
The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers.
Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”
“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.
Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”
“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him.
She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past.
He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”
Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”
He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”
"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.
"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."
She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”
He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.
When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.
“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.
Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”
Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.
Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”
Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.
“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"
She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”
“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”
Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."
“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.
“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”
“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.
Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”
Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”
Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”
Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”
“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”
She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”
Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”
Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”
"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"
Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone. But still, she couldn’t resist.
“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”
. . .
Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.
The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.
“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.
He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary.
“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.
Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”
She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.
“S okay,” He smiled.
The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.
“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.
She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.
Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.
The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit.
When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.
Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.
“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."
She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”
In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.
Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.
"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”
Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.
As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb.
Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.
#harry styles fic rec#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagines#harry styles imagine#harry styles fic#harry edward styles#harry styles one shot#fanfiction#fanfic rec#ceoharry#ceo!harry#ceo!harrystyles#harry styles writing#harry styles rec#shy!reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#one direction#harry styles fluff#fluff
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
pins & needles
summary: how various jjk men react to ur new/unnoticed piercings! incl. nanami, gojo, geto, choso
warnings: veryyyyyyy suggestive (esp in nanami's), (new) piercings, geto's & nanami's is a new relationship type thing. excuse any typos pls😞. 18+ mdni!
a/n: i got like 3 new piercings over the weekend, this is just self indulgent and cute methinks. also tyyy for 700 :3, i'm trying so hard to get over the writer's block. love u all!
choso + smiley piercing!
"i've never been happier to see you," choso groans as soon as he enters your dorm, kicking off his shoes at the door. though his voice is monotone, you can infer he's tired, worn out from a day's work and fighting curses.
"rough day?" you scoot over in bed to allow room for your boyfriend, smoothing out the sheets and flipping your blanket up.
"very." the singular word is the only response choso gives before beginning to strip his uniform right in front of you. as you're watching intently, choso gets almost completely naked before grabbing some clothes he'd left over; a pair of baggy pants and an "i heart my girlfriend" shirt that you gifted him, and lazily putting them on.
"i did something today, cho," you inform him, and choso’s attention immediately snaps to you, eyes showing that he was obviously wondering.
"what’d you do?"
you give him a bright smile, all the teeth in your mouth shown to him, the shiny ring glistening atop your pretty gums. choso’s brows furrow together, his pupils coming to realize there was something new in your mouth, something different about your smile.
"what’s…that?" he asks, stepping closer and closer and eventually sitting on the bed with you. you giggle at his curious looking, his eyebrows still knitted together in an inquisitive way.
"a piercing, silly," you inform him, carefully flipping up your top lip to show where the jewelry went through the frenulum of your inner lip.
"does it hurt?" choso leans in even more, straightening his eyes with the freshly pierced hole in your mouth.
"not really, just a little bit," you tell him, letting go of your lip and pressing a quick peck to choso’s lips. it catches him off-guard, choso’s face lights up red because he thought he couldn’t kiss you. smiling triumphantly, you pull away from your boyfriend.
"it—um—it looks really pretty on you." choso compliments, "can i kiss you again? please?" and he’s so sincere and sweet, always asking permission for everything. so endearing, really, even with his deep, dark voice.
needless to say, when he kisses you again, choso is making sure to flick the jewelry all around with his tongue, faintly enough to not hurt the new wound. and it becomes a habit from thereon.
gojo + bellybutton piercing!
"i missed you so much, baby."
satoru is on top of you, arms caging you in while you lay underneath him, smiling and feebly grasping the biggest part of his bicep. it had been over a month since you'd seen your husband, he'd been away on a business trip for far too long.
"did you miss me?" his words are drawn out and dramatic, like always, like he was teasing you—but he was practically always teasing you.
"yes, satoru," you blankly reply, "i missed you."
just before you can roll your eyes, gojo's kissing you, a bit enthusiastically, but you quickly melt into his touch. as annoying as he could be, you loved him, you missed him. you had longed for him the moment he left—that was a fact you couldn’t deny.
as quickly as he meets your lips, satoru leaves, disconnecting himself to trail down your torso that was draped in a way-too-expensive t-shirt of his. but the one thing that doesn't leave you is his eyes, he keeps an intense stare on your face as he moves lower and lower towards your waistline. his fingertips dance along your sides before pinching the fabric of the bottom of the shirt and slowly lifting it up.
his eyes are no longer able to stay on yours when he catches a glimpse of the sparkly blue rhinestones on each ball of the jewelry stuck through your navel. of course, you chose the shade that best matched satoru's eye color.
"no way!" satoru exclaims, beaming with a new-found excitement for the little hole in your tummy, "you actually did it?"
"yes, satoru," you repeat, threading your fingers through the white tufts of your husband's hair.
gojo's nimble fingers come to play with the jewelry—the size comparison comedic from how large his hands are. he studies the now fully healed wound, moving the jewelry all around and practically forgetting the previous heated mood.
"do you like it?" you somewhat nervously ask, intimidated by the tedious investigation of your bellybutton.
"yes, duh," satoru dramatically quips, "you think i should get one next?"
nanami + nipple piercing!
kento had tried so hard to ignore it.
you didn't mean to distract him, really. it was a simple mishap at first, not wearing a bra when kento came over. but after the first time, he didn't seem to mind, he was gentlemanly enough. his eyes stayed averted—when you were looking at him, at least—so you took it as a green flag to remain braless when he was at your house without worry.
but nanami's only a man.
so here you are, after work, after your boyfriend had come over, ranting to him in your kitchen about your boss and whatever bullshit you had to put up with that day. but your words land upon deaf ears, noise drowned out by the sight of the little hearts poking out from the shirt you're wearing. he's sat at your dining table, legs lazily spread as he half-listens to you.
"—like, what?! what else am i supposed to do in that situation?"
for the first time in your venting session, you lock eyes with kento, noticing how they flash up quickly from...your chest.
"ken?"
"um—yes?" he chokes, a little too obviously for him to not be embarrassed over.
a smug smile rests over your face, nanami was caught red handed, ogling at your boobs and the cute heart-shaped jewelry that adorned them.
"what'cha staring at?" trailing closer to him with a teasing tone in your voice, you're killing him, embarrassing the poor man as the seconds roll on. kento doesn't reply either, only a raspy breath leaving his lungs as his response. his face heats up and his expression drops, shamelessly glancing down at your chest once more—one, two—counting the peaks of your nipples through the shirt.
"i'm sorry," he finally chokes out, unable to keep his eyes from flashing up and down, to your eyes then to your chest, again and again.
without any words, you slot yourself between nanami's legs, inching your chest closer to his face. it was so funny how easily his stoic persona disintegrated under your presence. he'd never been this close to your chest—to you. and it's intoxicating to him, he's ashamed how he loses himself by simply being eye level with your boobs.
but that guilt quickly washes away when you take his hand and place it perfectly to cup your tit—index finger and thumb resting right around the pretty jewelry under your shirt.
tdlr; that's the first night your boyfriend stays over at your place.
geto + clavicle piercing!
"you look lovely tonight."
smooth as ever, geto compliments you, his voice dripping with a sweet nectar. your insides warm up despite the harsh cold outside, the thick coat draped over your frame doing little to combat the weather.
"thank you," you whisper and smile at him, stepping into the door of the fancy restaurant suguru had chosen for your date. third date, to be exact.
once you're at your table, suguru helps you shimmy the bulky jacket off your shoulders, revealing the tasteful, deep-cut top you had chosen for your date—along with the two studs on each side of your collarbone that your clothing showed off rather perfectly.
it takes suguru a few moments to notice once he sits down. he tries to strike up conversation, relying on the simple questions and responses he can utter without getting too distracted. however, within a few minutes, geto is cracking, eyes every so often flickering down to the gems that aligned your clavicle so prettily. he can't help it, because with every slight movement you make, the jewelry sparkles in the dim light of the restaurant—it's hard to ignore.
"are you okay?" you interrupt your previous dialogue when you take note of geto's increasingly hazy replies, and how he seems a bit spaced out.
"yeah," suguru swallows deeply, "i really like your—um," his pointer finger vaguely motions to his own collarbone, and you have to look down at your chest before you realize what he’s talking about.
his mouth is dry. he’d already thought you were, like, the sexiest woman on earth, but this, oh this, was just too much. geto was unsure as to why he found the piercings so distracting, so hot, but nonetheless enjoyed the view he had.
"oh, thank you!" you giggle, smiling brightly and ghosting your fingers over the piercings—you’d honestly forgotten that this would be the first time he’s seen this much of your body, and the piercings ended up being the perfect touch to make suguru lose his mind.
and he can't wait until he's able to feel on 'em, too.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#kento nanami#kento nanami x reader#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader#choso kamo#choso x reader#choso kamo x reader#geto x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto#gojo x reader#nanami x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Back Off, He's Mine
Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You put an agent in her place after she flirts with Bucky.
Word Count: Over 2.5k
Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader or Bucky), protective vibes, catty behavior, possessive vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Inspired by an anon ask asking for Bucky's wife to stick up for him. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at you from across the break room table, his pretty blue eyes not blinking as you looked back at him. The two of you were locked in a lengthy staring contest and you didn’t want to lose. But as the air in the room began to dry your eyes and he flashed you a beautiful smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from blinking. And the moment you did, he struck.
Snatching the last bit of the beloved pastry right from the middle of the table.
“Damn it,” you muttered, crossing your arms when he chuckled. “You cheated.”
“Oh, yeah?” he smirked, making a show of taking a slow bite. Your eyes followed his tongue licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together without thinking. The bastard made eating look sexy and he didn’t even take a full bite. He was taunting you. “How did I do that?”
“You cheated by existing.” You gestured to him, your smoking hot husband in his black t-shirt and tactical pants. To the person who made those clothes, you saluted them. “And you have serum in your veins, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have to blink as much as I do and that’s an unfair advantage.”
He chuckled again, graciously passing over the last small bite of the pastry. Your eyes lit up in thanks, popping it in your mouth with a moan. It was true love to share food like that. “I don’t think that’s how the serum works,” he teased. “And you’re a goddess, so isn’t that cheating, too?”
“Okay, but I’m not actually a goddess,” you countered, though he did make you feel like one.
His eyes softened, leaning across the table and crooking his finger. “Yeah, you are,” he whispered, kissing your lips once you met him halfway.
Before you could deepen the kiss, a shrill voice rang out in the breakroom. “Sergeant Barnes! There you are!”
Bucky’s cheek twitched as he settled back in his seat. The voice echoing in the room would’ve been enough to make anyone wince, but his enhanced hearing made it worse. He worked hard to block out noises so he’d be comfortable, and your eyes instantly narrowed at the person who brought him discomfort.
You recognized her after a moment, a pretty woman who would likely fall out of her top if she sneezed too hard. She hadn't worked there long, but she had her eye on Bucky from the start. She always flirted with him, tried to stand close to him and push her chest close, and he always dropped in the conversation that he was a married man. Apparently she didn’t get the hint that he wasn't interested. Either that or she was into taken men.
“Hi, agent,” Bucky politely said.
“Agent. Always so formal,” she giggled, dragging a chair over from another table and taking a seat without asking. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Barnes. You're a hard man to track down.”
Bubbly agents didn’t bother you in the slightest. You appreciated anyone who could stay upbeat in the line of work you dealt with. It wasn’t the enamored look in her eyes either that bothered you because you understood people wanting Bucky and you were secure in your relationship. No, what bothered you was that he had clearly been kissing his wife and she pointedly avoided looking at you after interrupting. That was just rude.
It also bothered you how uncomfortable Bucky looked when she moved her chair closer to him, his shoulders stiff and smile not reaching his eyes.
“Been spending some time with my wife,” he said proudly, reaching across the table to take your hand. You dipped your head down with a small smile, your heart still doing that funny flip like it had since the moment you met. He even managed to clear out the room so you two could be alone. “We were just finishing up.”
She didn’t spare you a glance as she set a hand on his metal arm. His cheek twitched again, squeezing your hand. It took a lot of effort for you to not knock her back from the table for touching him without his permission. “Excuse me,” you began, your tone even. “I don’t-”
“Do you think you could spar with me later?” she cut you off and either didn’t see or ignored your glare, leaning forward in her seat to make her chest stick out more. Bucky didn’t look. “I’ve been having trouble with a couple of moves and you’re so good at them,” she added, her eyes on him like she wanted to eat him up.
Which wasn’t going to happen.
“I don't think…” he stopped when her fingers trailed higher.
“Please, Sergeant?” she pouted.
Your eyes went back to your husband to get a read on him and make sure he was okay. He wasn't. His smile still didn't look right and his back was ramrod straight. Squeezing his hand seemed to ground him since he breathed a little easier, though your anger was simmering.
“I, um, don’t mind sparring if you really need the help,” Bucky began, gently pulling his arm away. “But you interrupted my time with my wife.”
Her smile faltered while yours widened. Bucky didn't like anyone cutting you off, whether that was your time together or interrupting you speaking. “What?” she asked.
“Hi there. Been sitting here the whole time.” You wiggled your fingers when she finally looked your way. “Excuse us for a second,” you said, avoiding her stare the way she avoided yours. “Bucky, do you think you can wait outside? This agent and I need to have a little chat.”
Your husband looked like he was trying not to laugh and you would take laughter over discomfort any day of the week. “Be nice if you can,” he teased, pressing a featherlight kiss to your hand. “I love you, baby,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” you whispered, something unspoken passing between the two of you.
Defending each other was second nature, always would be.
Bucky didn’t immediately leave the room when he stood up. Instead he rounded the table so he could bend down and kiss your mouth, too. You smiled as it lingered, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t keep me waiting out there long, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered.
“I won't, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tucking some of his hair behind his ear.
Straightening up, he gave a small nod to the agent for her sake. “Come find me later if you still want to talk about sparring. Maybe I can find someone for you.”
“Okay, Sergeant,” she smiled, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. That look wouldn’t last.
You waited until Bucky was gone to face the agent, who stopped smiling the second your husband was out of sight. Leaning back in your seat, you crossed your arms and asked point-blank, “You trying to fuck my husband?”
The wide-eyed expression was priceless when she realized you weren't asking as a joke. “What are you... I just asked him to spar,” she tried to brush it off.
“Please, don't insult my intelligence,” you said. It was beneath both of you to do so. “I get why you want him. Besides being one of the sexiest creatures to ever exist, he’s a good man. Polite, probably treats you with respect. More than most of the men around here.”
She shifted away from you and nodded. “He's a nice guy.”
“He is,” you agreed. They didn't make men like Bucky anymore. “And I’m not going to tell you to stop hitting on my husband, but I highly suggest that you back off. At the very least, don’t throw yourself at him right in front of me. It’s sad.”
“Why?” She had the nerve to smirk. “Worried I’ll steal him away?”
You smirked, too. She had balls and you respected that, but this wasn’t a battle she’d win. “Steal him away? You make it sound like he’s a toy and he isn’t. He’s a man, my man,” you said, holding up your hand so she could get a good look at your wedding ring. “And you are not a threat in the slightest. Our bond is much stronger than that.”
Her smirk went away fast, replaced by something sad. You almost felt sorry for her until she said, “Jealousy isn't a good look on you. It’s kind of… ugly.”
You scoffed. If she wanted to play, you’d play. “Jealous of what? You hitting on a married man who doesn't want you?” you asked, not feeling guilty in the slightest when her face fell. “I’m not telling you to back off because I'm jealous. I told you that because you’re only going to embarrass yourself if you keep trying and you’re going to make my husband more uncomfortable than he already is. I don’t like people making my husband uncomfortable.”
An unspoken threat hung in the air long enough that she swallowed. “And how exactly did I make him uncomfortable?”
“Besides you hitting on him, you touched him without making sure it was okay to do so,” you answered, letting a bit of venom seep into your tone. Bucky went years without autonomy and consent was important to you. He suffered enough and didn’t need to deal with things like this. “I’d hope as an agent you’d be able to pick up on subtle body language cues enough to know that he didn’t want you touching him.”
“And how do you know he doesn’t want me touching him? Are you a mind reader or something?” she sneered, flicking a nonexistent piece of flint from her shirt. “If he really didn't want me touching him, he would've said so. And guess what? He didn't say a word.”
You saw red, your hands curling into fists. For her to ignore the nonverbal cues… “I know my husband. I know Bucky. He doesn’t want you touching him nor does he want to start anything with you because he’s extremely faithful. He won’t throw away a loving, trusting marriage for a quick fuck or doomed affair,” you stated. She bristled, but tried to recover. “If you make a pass at him, he’ll reject you. He’ll do it as respectfully as he can because he’s a good guy, but he will reject you. That’s a promise.”
“Because he loves you so much. Jesus, what makes you so special?” she spat, surprising you both. But the longer you looked at her, the more she deflated under your stare. “I mean… He doesn’t say much to me, but when he does it’s always about you. ‘My wife this’ and ‘my wife that’ and he’s always so… proud.” She shook her head. “Do you know how lucky you are?”
You did feel a little sorry for her now. Crushes hurt, but better that she hurt now and heal than to keep pushing and hurt more later. “I’m not special. We just love each other, that’s all. And, trust me, I’m aware that I’m very lucky to have him. Someone who gets me and will fight for and beside me,” you said, a loving smile touching your lips. You hoped Bucky was listening outside the door. “There’s a guy out there waiting for you, but that guy isn’t Bucky. So don’t lower yourself by trying to go after someone who’s taken.”
She side-eyed you, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “And what if I don’t stop?” she asked.
You giggled humorously, all sympathy gone. The agent actually looked nervous at that sound and you were glad because you weren't going to play nice. “Well, if you don't back off, Bucky could make a complaint about you harassing him or at least request that you’re transferred. Maybe fired since you’re still in your probationary period,” you began, looking at your wedding band when she began to protest. “At the very least, I could have your schedule rearranged so you can spar with me. You see, Bucky taught me a few moves and if a bone or two breaks, well…”
It wasn't an empty threat either. Bucky loved fighting for you, but you could hold your own. It turned him on.
Her eyes darted to the door when you stood up and stretched. “Listen, you don't need to-”
“But do you know what I'm going to do for now?” you asked, cutting her off the way she cut you off. “I'm going to take my husband to one of the interrogation rooms and suck the soul out of his body through his incredible cock,” you smiled sweetly, taking pleasure in the sputtering sound she made. “And after he recovers, he’ll have the choice of bending me over the table and either eating or fucking my pussy. He’ll probably choose both. He’s pretty insatiable.”
She got to her feet, too, and you half expected to see smoke come out of her ears. “I don't need to hear–”
“What? Does hearing that Bucky is going to fuck me and not you make you uncomfortable?” you asked innocently before you got close to her. “Shove your tits in my husband's face again or touch him without his explicit consent, and I won't just make you uncomfortable. I’ll make your life a living hell.”
While you lost the staring contest to Bucky earlier, you very much won against this agent. She stood perfectly still and averted her gaze as you pushed your chair in. “Is that a threat?” she mumbled.
A cliche question, so why not give a cliche answer? “It’s a promise,” you smiled, heading to the door. “Oh, if he does decide to spar with you, I expect you to apologize and behave yourself. I’ll hear about it if you don't.”
Bucky leaned against the wall, waiting for you as you exited the room. He looked over the moon. “We’re going to one of the interrogation rooms, huh?”
You giggled, taking his hand as your cheeks warmed. “Of course, that's what you took from that.”
“How could I not?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Thanks, baby. I thought I dropped enough hints that she’d back off.”
“Nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. He deserved to be comfortable at work. If some guy kept hitting on you, he would've stepped in, too.
“You think she’ll back off now?”
“I think so, but you tell me if she doesn't,” you said. You’d keep an eye on her, too, just in case. And if she pushed again, you’d put her back in her place. Maybe you’d make her listen while Bucky fucked you. With his permission, of course. “So, which room should we go to?”
He chuckled, the sound a happy one in the hall. “Room B. We can be as loud as we want,” he replied, tugging you closer. “I’ll show you just how special you are to me.”
Heat filled your body, anticipating how good it would feel to have him fuck your throat and more. “My body is ready, Sergeant,” you teased, shrieking when he picked you up and ignoring the whistles from other agents that walked by.
They were used to the shenanigans of Mr. and Mrs. Barnes by now.
And you couldn't wait for more.
Just like we deserve a loving Bucky, he deserves love, too. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#sebastian stan#the winter soldier#husband!bucky barnes#sebastian stan x reader#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#x reader#james bucky buchanan barnes#mr. and mrs. barnes#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#bucky fic#bucky x you
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
🍷Ambrosia🍷
♡︎ synopsis: You give Sylus a private pole dance show.
♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader
⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒
♡︎ cw: pre-relationship, pole dancing, lap dance, cowgirl, missionary, creampie
♡︎ word count: 4.2k
♡︎ a/n: If you don't like how I wrote Sylus pls don't say anything. 😭
♡︎ a little gift for my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎
divider by @cafekitsune
"Why are you walking by yourself in the city at 1 am?" Sylus asks you over the phone.
You look around, searching for Mephisto. You sigh when you fail. "I just wanted to sober up on my way home."
"You can sober up in my car." And as if on cue, a familiar black car pulls up next to you.
The other line cuts off and Sylus exits, walking around and opening the passenger's door. "Get in, sweetie."
You cross your arms. "I don't wanna get car sick."
"You won't. I'll drive slowly."
"But I'm like five minutes away from my apartment." You look around at the empty street. No people and no surveillance cameras. You did pick out a weird route, but it was in a peaceful neighborhood. "Why don't you walk with me?"
Sylus' shoulders slump at your request. Not because it's unreasonable, but because he hoped the car ride would be more than five minutes long.
After parking the car, he returns to you carrying a water bottle and a paper bag with a logo of a donut shop. He hands them over, and you accept, feeling guilty.
"Did you get these for me?"
He shrugs. "I always drive by that place, so I got curious and bought some."
"Oh... Oh?" Your eyes land on a stain on his shirt. Blood? No - "Is that jam?"
He glances down "Right, I tried one and it spilled on my shirt. I can just get a new one."
You roll your eyes. "Of course you can. I have something that can remove the stain."
When you turn to start walking, he grabs your hand and loops your arm around his. "Slow down, I don't want you to trip."
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Just when you locked the doors of your apartment, it hit you that Sylus, the infamous leader of Onichynus, your friend (?), is in your apartment. At 1 am, for the first time. The apartment isn't messy, but you still would've prepared it more. For instance, you would've put away the pole standing in the middle of your living room.
Of course, that's the first thing Sylus notices. "You like to pole dance, kitten?"
The question sobers you up immediately. Your face and ears burn in embarrassment, and you can feel sweat forming on your back. "Um, sometimes. When I have time." You scurry away to the kitchen to put away the food, Sylus chuckling behind you. You wouldn't be so flustered if you knew those cool, energetic moves. No, instead, all you know is the sensual, seductive ones. They're like a breath of fresh air, given the nature of your job.
You go back to Sylus who made himself comfortable on your sofa, taking in the new environment. "I have a men's t-shirt that could fit you, and I'll return your shirt the next time I see you."
With a slight glare he responds "I'm not wearing another man's clothes."
You sigh "It's mine. I like to wear baggy clothes around the house." Although, you can't help but smile a little at that display of jealousy. Was it, though? Or are you just being delusional?
You wish it was.
His face returns to the neutral relaxed state, with his usual amused smirk. The face, you noticed, he only has when he's around you. It wasn't like that in the beginning (let's not talk about the beginning), but the more time you spent with him, the more you got to see his gentle side.
Lost in your daydream, you didn't notice that he was almost done unbuttoning the stained shirt, revealing he doesn't have anything underneath.
When he completely takes it off, your eyes are glued to his torso. This is your first time seeing him completely shirtless, leaving you unable to peel off your gaze from his chiseled muscles, broad shoulders-
"It's rude to stare, sweetie."
You blink, snapping out of the shameless ogling, taking the shirt that was lingering in his hand for a moment as he was trying to hand it to you.
"I wasn't staring." You, again, make a run for it, this time to your bedroom to fish out a clean oversized t-shirt for him. When you return to the living room, your eyes are fixated on his face, fighting the urge to look down and stare at his physique.
He thanks you and puts it on. It fits almost perfectly, and although he's covered, the sight is making your heart flutter.
He takes a whiff of the fabric. "Smells nice."
After a brief chat about laundry (of course Sylus doesn't do it, but knows how to, apparently), you turn towards the bathroom, claiming "Trust me, I'll make that stain disappear."
"I bet you can't."
The accusation makes you stop in your tracks. "I bet I can! And if I win, you'll get me something pretty."
Sylus chuckles, eyeing you from head to toe. "If you lose, you'll dance for me."
Fell right into his trap.
With a shaky voice you refuse, "I don't think so. Pick something else."
Sylus raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at your declining of the bet for the first time. "Oh?" He notices how you're shifting where you stand, averting your gaze. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
You shake your head "You didn't, it's just that - " You trail off, an idea popping up in your head. By now, Sylus can read your face with ease, so he smirks when your eyes light up and he listens intently. "How about, if you actually want me to put on a little show for you, you buy me a bottle of my favorite perfume?"
You've been running low, and it's currently out of stock literally everywhere you looked. If he actually wants to see you dance, he'll have to put in a little bit of work. Not only is the perfume out of stock, he doesn’t even know which one is your favorite. At least you never told him. And even if he, by some miracle, finds it, you'll just do a few spins and take your perfume. It's not like he asked you to give him a lap dance. You probably wouldn't be opposed to it, though.
He raises his eyebrows before nodding. "Deal."
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
As you shut the door of the bathroom, Sylus slowly sneaks his way into your bedroom. Actually, it’s not sneaking in if you left the door open, right?
However, he's not a creep who uses this opportunity to go through your underwear drawer. No, he goes straight to your vanity and takes a sniff of every fancy looking perfume, remembering almost every single scent and occasion you wore them on.
The water stopped running in the bathroom. He needs to wrap this up. There's one more bottle, the printed logo and letters worn out, almost empty. He chuckles, as he wonders if this is the one since you're running low and want him to replace it. You could've just asked him to and he'd get you ten more.
His eyes roll back as the ambrosial scent hits his nose. That's it, that's the one. Oh, how he adores it. It smells intoxicating when it's on you. And you're wearing it tonight, him catching a hint of it when you met up and he had to fight every fiber in his body not to bury his face in your neck, taking in your perfume and the feel of your soft skin.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
At the doorway of Sylus' bedroom, you stare at the pole installed in the middle of the room. When he said to take the now stain-free shirt to his bedroom, you thought it was odd since, well - why would you go into his bedroom? The last time you were here, was to search for that brooch and he kicked you out every time. Except for the last time, when you succeeded in finding it, the moments on his bed that you fantasize more often than you'd like to admit, where you wish it led to something more.
"You know you're allowed to enter?" Sylus' teasing voice appears behind you.
You peer at him over your shoulder "You already have the pole installed? Without even getting the perfume first?" After all, it's only been a few days since you last saw him, and when you gave him the challenge.
"Take a better look, sweetie." He nods in the direction of the desk.
You take a step inside to get a closer look, with Sylus trailing behind you to stand next to you. Of course, there it is - the bottle of your favorite perfume waiting for you. Sylus smirks in self-satisfaction as your face is too easy to read now, you can't lie your way out of this.
Nor do you want to.
"Well," Sylus gestures towards the bed, "I took the liberty of ordering some outfits for you."
You then eye the clothes that you didn't notice earlier, gawking at the stunning pieces that ranged from coverage to more provocative, and all in your favorite colors.
You turn to him, eyes wide "I - " You don't even know what to say - you want to thank him, but at the same time you didn't expect him to do all this. You know that he is as generous as he is wealthy, but his thoughtfulness always catches you off guard. One of the main reasons why you like him so much.
He chuckles at your cute reaction and pats your head. Then he takes the shirt that was still in your hands and walks towards the door. "I'll give you half an hour to pick out an outfit and warm up."
"Wha - ?"
He shuts the door behind him.
Fuck.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
You took more time trying on your new pole outfits than warming up, leaving you with only five minutes to frantically pack them in an empty box you assumed was for the clothes, and to actually warm up. There was nothing underneath the skimpy outfit you picked out, since you had to get rid of your underwear that was ruining the look. There were even some heels waiting for you, and even though you didn't have to wear them, you couldn't resist. You put some of your favorite perfume on, of course, and in the middle of the brief warm-up you thought of one more detail.
There's a soft knock on the door and you frantically exit Sylus' closet, almost tripping in your high heels as you go back to the pole.
Sylus enters the room and you can see that he's stunned for a brief second, as he sees you wearing heels and one of his silk robes.
He closes the door behind him and comments with an amused smile "I don't remember displaying my robe on the bed."
You fidget the soft fabric of the belt, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart as the reality of the situation is starting to settle in. The pole next to you, Sylus asking you which playlist he should play, your nose picking up the familiar scent of his fabric softener.
You must've looked like a deer in headlights, because Sylus' concerned frown as he calls your name snaps you back to reality.
"Are you okay? You don't really have to do this -."
"No, I'm fine!" You clear your throat, steeling your resolve. You want to do this. "I was just trying to remember the song..." You grab your phone and hand it over to him to connect it with the stereo and go back to wait by the pole.
You may have fantasized about dancing for him more than you'd like to admit - and not just in these few days since you last saw him. You also may have more than one song that reminds you of him and that you created choreographies for.
While setting up, Sylus sits down on the sofa in front of you.
He can feel your eyes on him.
"What?" He asks, still setting up.
“Nothing.” You look away and do some of the last warm up moves. You wanted to jokingly ask if he expected a lap dance, but you chickened out. The deal was for you to just show off some of your pole dance moves, that’s it. No striptease, no lap dancing…
You collect the courage to make the joke anyway, but just as you open your mouth the first notes of the song you picked out hit your ears.
He puts your phone away and makes himself comfortable in his seat - legs spread, hands resting on his thighs, lips pulled in that smirk, his eyes fully focused on you.
So you give him your most confident-looking smile, grab the pole with one hand and start walking around it. You drag the platforms of your shoes across the floor, just gliding around before getting into the show-off moves. Your movements are fluid, making it looks so easy - from spinning around to air walking. The music and the dancing soothe your anxiety and lift your mood. You know you look good. After a few spins, the silk robe starts getting in the way. With your back turned to him, your hands untie the belt and slide the robe off your shoulders. You look back at him with a playful grin, and you can't help but feel smug at how immersed he is in your performance, one arm now resting on the backrest, eyes raking over your whole body and face, anticipating your next move.
The robe slips off completely and you toss it away somewhere. You feel your cheeks heat up as the air hits your newly exposed skin. This is the first time you've showed so much of yourself to Sylus, and you couldn't help but feel a little shy. But then you see him shifting in his seat, face a little more serious, the attention giving you butterflies. With so much of your skin exposed, you show off some of the advanced moves, and you feel a new boost of confidence. You know it’s stunning - the way you look in your revealing outfit and how you perform these moves with ease.
The other half of the song starts playing, and you decide to shift from the pole to the floor. Fixing your gaze to the side, on Sylus, you go down on all floors, slowly gliding your upper body, your butt propped up, giving him a perfect view of your silhouette. Red eyes follow every step and take in your expressions that go from focused to playful and a little flirty.
Maybe more flirty than you realize.
You lie on your back, lifting your legs and move your hips side to side, making slow waves with your legs. With every next move, you're bolder, more provocative, locking eyes with him as you move.
In the brief silence between the songs, Sylus chuckles "Is that all, kitten?"
You know he's teasing. After all the time you spent together, some of them literally tied to each other, you know how to recognize the slight differences in his tone.
You know how to tease too. Smiling mischievously, you get on all fours, back arched, and slowly crawl towards him, cat style.
Sylus' lips stretch into a half grin as he watches you close the distance, with you now on your knees by his feet. He loved every second of your performance, his admiration for you only growing, always unconsciously proving to him that you are worth every second of his time and every bit of effort to be more patient. But every moment of that performance made his patience run thin. The craving, the need for you – it’s starting to overtake him. The sensual moves, the most provocative outfit he picked out but thought he was pushing his luck with, they made your body, made you, irresistible. He needed to deflect. He loves teasing you because your reactions are always so cute and amusing. He expected a pout or a snarky comment but instead you started crawling towards him and-
You graze your hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his pants twitch with your touch and stopping just around his hips. Then, you gracefully stood up and turned around, arching your back and moving your hips to the rhythm, giving him a nice view of your butt. As you look over your shoulder, you have to bite back a self-satisfied grin when you catch his gaze raking over your body, not being subtle about it at all. You turn to face him, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as you position yourself to kneel over him, and with every fiber in your body, you fight the urge to just sit on his crotch, to feel if he's hard at all. So you lean back, arms behind your back and holding onto his thighs as you stretch your torso and you roll your hips, your eyes locked with his.
With the second song almost over, you lean towards him, your lips tickling his earlobe, your eyes catching the goosebumps on the skin of his neck and the redness on his ear. "I guess this is all I got."
And just when you're about to push yourself off the sofa, Sylus' strong hands grab you by the hips, pressing them down on his clothed erection, a yelp escaping your lips upon contact.
"Are you sure?" His red eyes, illuminated by the low lights of his bedroom, are on you, lidded with lust.
Just a bit more.
You sigh innocently and avert your gaze, resting your arms on his shoulders, your hips moving lazily over the rock hard erection, earning a choked grunt from the man under you, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your hips and butt.
"Well..." You trail off, steadying your breathing as arousal started rapidly coursing through your body, making your mouth dry and pussy wet. "I think - !?"
Sylus' hand wraps around your jaw, making you look back at him. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed, and you don't think you've ever seen his eyes looking at you with such intensity.
Out of breath, he asks you, "Can I kiss you?"
"Y-yes."
His lips take yours in a searing kiss, the hand on your hip trailing over your back and pressing between your shoulder blades, while the hand on your jaw finds its way to the back of your head. It feels like an out of body experience to finally kiss Sylus, to feel his soft lips you've been eyeing for so long, to bury your fingers in his silver hair, to taste mint and red wine on his tongue, to feel the pulse on his neck under your hand. Your clothed pussy was fluttering, desperate for some attention, so you started moving your hips again, grinding against him, drawing out a low groan from the man.
"If you keep doing that I can't hold back any longer." He warns in a low voice against your lips.
You take his 'warning' seriously and suddenly sit up, kneeling above his lap once again. A flash of confusion (or disappointment) on Sylus' face gets quickly overwritten with surprise, followed by a cocky grin as your hands go to his belt.
He puts his hands over yours, making you look back at his eyes that softened a little. "Are you sure?"
You nod and try to shift your attention back to his belt, but he grabs your chin, his face a breath away from yours. "I need you to use your words, kitten."
You swallow thickly, the blood rushing under your cheeks and ears "Yes, I can't wait anymore."
Sylus gives you one more breathtaking kiss before he opens his belt and unzips his pants, hissing in relief as his hard cock is freed from his underwear. Your eyes widen as they stare at the sheer size of it, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.
You move the bottoms of your outfit to the side, making him groan as he catches the sight of your naked pussy lips, "Fuck, you had nothing underneath this whole time? You'll be the death of me."
Your chuckle is replaced by a soft whimper as he grabs his cock by the base and guides you by grabbing your hip, the tip sliding along your wet folds, grazing your clit. It slides right against your entrance, dipping in and out of your hole, each time a little deeper, before the tip is fully inside and you're already seeing stars. Now both his hands are on your hips, slowly guiding you down as he watches your face intently, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple.
"You can take it, pretty girl." He chokes back a groan as your walls squeeze around him as he enters you deeper. It takes him every last bit of restraint not to thrust up into you and fuck you senseless.
He rubs soothing circles on your bud, making your legs twitch, the stretch of his dick already stimulating enough to send you over the edge. With a few shallow pumps, he fully enters you.
"That's it, you're doing so good." Pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips find yours, teeth nipping and tongue licking your bottom lip before he trails over your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. Holding onto his broad shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, you slowly start moving your hips, sweat starting to drip from your back and your chest. He takes off your top, leaving you with only your bottom and the heels on your feet, while he's still fully clothed as you ride him. His tongue drags over between your breasts, drinking up your sweat, his lips then latching onto your pebbled nipple while his fingers play with the other one.
Your sensitive swollen clit keeps rubbing against his pelvis, as you roll your hips on his length.
Sylus hisses against your breast, "You're squeezing me so tight." He grabs you by the back of your neck, his face now close to yours. With his other hand squeezing your butt cheek, his hips thrust up, meeting your pace. "You gonna cum, darling?"
You can only mewl and nod in response. He notices your leg muscles shaking and hips staggering in their movement.
"Let me take over." He knows you're getting tired, but too lost in pleasure and probably too proud to admit it. He slides further down in his seat, letting your body rest completely on top of him. He holds onto your ass in a bruising grip, holding your hips in place as he starts vigorously thrusting up, the blunt tip hitting all the right places and the base and pelvis hitting your clit over and over until you're a panting moaning mess on top of him. His teeth latch onto the flesh between your neck and shoulder as your intoxicating smell, your voice, and pulsing cunt bring him closer to cumming too.
Just when you're about to come down from your high, Sylus suddenly sits up and throws a pillow from the sofa onto the floor.
"Hold onto me." He instructs and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms and legs around him, allowing him to, as gently as possible, lay you onto the floor with the pillow under your head.
He adjusts himself between your legs and continues the relentless pounding. The view on top of you makes your pussy flutter again - strands of his silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lust dazed eyes fixed on you, pupils dilated you can barely see the ruby red irises, wide shoulders and his whole fucking hot face and body you could stare at forever. But you need to feel his weight on your body.
As if reading your mind, he lies down completely on top of you, using one elbow for support while the other arm sneaks behind you and grabs your butt. "I'm so fucking close." He grunts against your lips, but you're too lost in pleasure to say anything back, only moaning and burying your face in his shoulder as your walls clench around his throbbing dick, the pressure of another orgasm building up.
The hand moves to grab your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone, the gentle touch contrasting with his ruthless hips, "Let me see you, darling." His voice is both soft and strained.
You're the first one to break the eye contact as another orgasm crashes through you. Sylus' orgasm comes only seconds later, enhancing the intensity as his twitching cock spurts hot liquid inside your pussy.
With the last lazy rolling of his hips, you come down from your own highs, foreheads pressed together as both of you catch your breath. He gives you a soft kiss on the lips, and then just gazes at you with a tenderness you haven't seen before. His fingertips trace over the features of your face. "I hope you can spend the night here."
Of course, you accept the offer. And of course, you didn't sleep at all that night.
#love and deepspace#lnds sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#lads sylus#sylus love and deepspace#sylus smut#sylus x you#sylus l&ds#lads smut#lads x reader#love and deepspace fanfic#sylus fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Squid Game men as dads (+pregnancy HCs)
How they act during your pregnancy, shortly after birth and as a veteran dad!
Pairing: Recruiter, Thanos, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x fem!reader
Summary: Headcanons, scenarios as them as to-be-dads, new dads and veteran dads plus a bonus scenario at the end of each character!
Genre: Fluff, angst
Words in total: 7.1k (Every part is around 1.4k words long)
Note: No baby names or gender are mentioned so everything is up to your interpretation. Also, this took a lot of effort. I hope you enjoy this <3
Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman



( Words — 1.1k )
Your husband was extremely over-prepared for anything and everything during your pregnancy. He seemingly bought every single parenting book that exists on this planet and proceeded to inhale them in a matter of days before internally panicking about if he is capable of being a good dad anyway. You can tell how much everything was eating away at him, even before the child was born. Although he tried his best to never show it.
A way to channel his nervous and stressed energy into something good is by constantly hovering around you. Being near your pregnant glow gives him a peace of mind, resting his head on your stomach and listening to the baby’s heartbeat and feeling a light kick here and there, or having you in his arms while giving you a massage, his lips peppering featherlight kisses over your skin.
Gong Yoo always insisted on cooking for you, no matter the hour of day or night. He is kind of afraid you might consume something questionable again after watching you dip tuna kimbab into chocolate sauce, insisting it tastes really good and almost making him try a little too.
For you and your baby’s health, he fully banned you from the kitchen. No more experimenting with food for you.
˚✧₊⁎-
He was absolutely broken the first time he held your baby. It was so unbelievably small, so fragile, pure and innocent. The embodiment of love and the result of it. Gong Yoo had to bite his tongue and hold back his tears in order to not cry waterfalls onto your newborn because he knows once a single tear drops, his whole facade shatters.
Once the baby came home with you two, the once neat and organised, shared home was transformed into a more warm and homely environment, the floor now decorated with toys, onesies, clothes and small children’s books.
He always gets up in the middle of the night so you can rest, falling asleep in the rocking chair with the baby in arms. Your husband is also mostly the one that stays at home with the baby since his job only requires some recruitment of desperate people once a year, so most of his time can be dedicated to you and his family.
Gong Yoo is also that one dad most of the other moms swoon about when seeing him at playgrounds or in the park, pushing the stroller of the baby, or having his kid hang out in a sling tied to his chest while he went shopping, comparing two types of baby foods with another and showing both to the bean of happiness tied to his chest, cooing and asking which type of baby food is tastier.
Hanging out with the baby is probably the activity that takes 80% of his day and he is not complaining at all. Your husband’s head lays on the edge of the crib while watching the precious thing sleep, cradling them in his arms in the middle of the night, sitting with them in the playpen, completely matching their excitement and energy while playing with their toys, admiring how easily his kid can be entertained.
Although he looks charming and even more handsome out in public, he cares little about his appearance anymore. While he was obsessed with the way his suit looked and hair was styled, now, he considers himself satisfied when he finds a clean t-shirt. His hair gets a little messier and dark circles begin to form beneath his eyes.
˚✧₊⁎-
Even as a veteran dad, Gong Yoo fold together immediately when his kid try to win his favour by saying I love you or making puppy eyes at him. He’s not a pushover though, standing his ground and giving his kid a strict glare whenever they go to far that immediately silences them is not impossible, although he doesn’t like doing it.
He is always afraid of doing something wrong when it comes to parenting, overthinking every decision and everything he says, fearing he’s too strict, too loose, too much of a pushover, too disinterested and blah blah blah.
You had to stop his circling train of thought by soothing your husband by reminding him how he always shower up to every single school event, always sat through the homework and never raised his voice when his child didn’t understand something, instead explaining it in simpler terms without making them feel stupid for not getting it the first time, how he never shamed his child for doing wrong, never blamed them for being just a kid and always did the opposite than his own father did.
It might sound selfish, but becoming a father healed the hole left behind by his own. Oh how he wishes and prays that he does and did everything right. The only thing he wants is for you and his precious baby to be happy and safe, no matter what.
˚✧₊⁎ - (TW: Suicide)
“What’s the matter? Your mind starting to race?”
The recruiter sits across Gi-hum, gun handed over into his hand. The cold metal now feels almost overwhelming when touching his skin, as if screaming at him to turn it around and point it at the man sitting across him and shoot him, end the game here and there.
“That’s right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me… but, I’ll have you admit one last thing.”
Gi-hun’s voice wasn’t even shaking in fear, it was firm with determination.
“You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark and wag your tail for them.
You’re nothing more than their dog.”
The words emitted from the mam sitting across him begin to slice deeper and deeper into his mind, his heart and soul. It’s true what he says, Gong Yoo knows it himself. He is but a small chess piece, a dog, as Gi-hun says, that obeys every order and does what his master says.
What choice does he have anyway? It’s either that or risking his death and yours.
You. A flashing memory of your face from just this morning briefly plagues his mind, the view now feels so utterly distant and unreal.
A small, cocky smile spread on his face, pathetically trying to have his last laugh. He leaned back against the cushion and cocked the gun, pressing the barrel against the underside of his chin. Taking one last breath, his finger pressed against the trigger, not pulling it yet.
He knows you both will be okay. Maybe even better without him.
Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

( Words — 1.5k )
To be very honest, the news of your pregnancy kinda hit him like a truck. It was somewhat accidental and Thanos maybe panicked quite a lot while pacing around his shitty apartment, scared to death about the idea of becoming a dad. Like, have you seen him?? He is supposed to become a dad?!
After loosing his mind and having multiple panic attacks, he pulled himself together and went to the dollar store to buy a onesie, a teddy bear and a bouquet of roses before heading over to your place and ringing the doorbell for multiple minutes until you finally open the door.
He actually sold his apartment and moved in with you, performed a gig every night for multiple weeks on end, even dealing his fair share of drugs in club pentagon. Your boyfriend would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, but having a stable income would be much nicer.
Other than that, your boyfriend took care of you the best he could. Whenever you crave something to eat, your boyfriend will stand inside a gas station at 2 am to buy you the specific type of chips you wanted. If there wasn’t enough money to afford a decent meal for the two of you, you’d get all the food. He promises to be fine and get his food elsewhere, don’t even worry about him.
He is incredibly fascinated by your changing body. Your breasts are bigger, softer and sensitive. Thanos will be poking them all day every day randomly, trying to see if they’ll leak despite you only being three months into the pregnancy. He’ll insist on taking a picture of your belly every day so he can document the process to show it off to his kid one day.
Also, he never smoked, vaped or used around you. Your boyfriend has been clean of drugs for the almost entirety of your relationship but still smoked, but for the health of you ans your baby, he tried his best to get clean on that as well but it proved to be much, much harder, so he instead settled on doing it on the balcony or outside.
One last thing, whenever he had a new ultrasound picture of his baby, he was showing it off to everybody he knows with the biggest grin on his face. Thanos was the proudest dad in the world before your baby was even born.
˚✧₊⁎-
Since your boyfriend was so used to staying up all night and performing, so he doesn’t really mind dragging himself out of bed to feed or cradle the baby in the crack of dawn. Although, doing that for multiple nights on end drains any person, so you two end up playing rock paper scissors after a while to decide who gets up.
Thanos is the type to grab his baby by the back of the onesie and lift it out of the crib, gently throwing it onto your bed for some family cuddles, grinning like an idiot at how his baby giggles in delight and kicks its legs, wanting to fly through the air again and again.
He performs for his kid too whenever he doesn’t know what else to do to make his baby stop crying. Your boyfriend would play with an imaginary DJ board with his hands, his waist swaying left and right as he sleepily raps some random lyrics together to make the crying baby in the crib finally fall asleep after being fed, cradled and having its diaper changed.
Sometimes, if all fails (even rapping), Thanos will climb into the crib in order to finally make the screamer fall asleep. His legs would dangle over the edge of the crib and angled in a weird position, his neck awkwardly leaning against the railing. Despite this clearly uncomfortable pose, he was deeply asleep and snoring alongside his baby sleeping on his chest. Of course, this scene immediately became your new phone wallpaper.
After having the baby for a while, Thanos’s fashion will completely shift from the indie/grungry/rave-whatever-esc he was wearing to whatever is clean and comfortable. He doesn’t care he’s wearing a spongebob shirt right now, he’s busy deciding if he wants to buy a CD of the Beauty and the Beast movie or treat you with some snacks and chocolate.
Your boyfriend also had some serious attachment issues. That man could not stand not being near his baby 24/7 or not being able to have it in sight. If you want to take it out to the park or something he’ll insist on coming with you or else he’ll be stuck bouncing his thigh up and down and switching between social media platforms to pass the time until you come home.
What was kind of fascinating to you was how little Thanos now needs to be entertained. Having his little sunshine on his lap, curiously biting onto his fingers or reaching out to his hair could keep him entertained for hours upon hours.
Sometimes you walk in on your boyfriend lying on his stomach, legs kicking in the air, making some grimaces at your kid and watching how it begins to giggle and laugh, trying to copy their dad’s expression as hard as they can. Although you have to say that your baby has their papa’s signature scowl.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a more experienced dad, Thanos gathered no experience at all. Despite his baby now being a toddler, it’s still like he has had that kid for two and a half days. Sure he knows what his kid likes and dislikes because it’s basically the same to him, both your manchild and child like colourful things and don’t like vegetables, but Thanos still has no idea how to raise a proper human.
Whenever you scold your child for something, your boyfriend just nods in approval. When the kid looks over to their papa for help, he’ll just point at you. “Listen to your mama, she’s smarter than both of us.”
Although he gets more excited every day at how he can do more with his kid now. He likes to fantasise and envision everything they could do together, like his precious sunshine’s first day in elementary school, teaching them how to ride a bike, first time bringing them to the club and show them off to everyone…
You’ll have to listen to your boyfriend fully plan out tomorrow and what he’ll go do with his kid while being cuddled up in your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair. Thanos’ll gesture around while vividly explaining everything in detail, how he wants to go buy some new toys and then maybe go to the park, grab some ice cream, then go choose out their bike to learn how to ride one on. It’ll be fun!
Although fantasising is fun, reality is often a little different. It’s difficult to afford all the things he dreams of thanks to your financial situation but despite everything, you, him and your child are happy.
He’ll make every minute, every hour and every day count, wanting to make as many good memories as possible before they grew too old and annoyed of their over-affectionate and hyper dad.
Also, your boyfriend is horrified of the teenager stage when thinking back to his own and how he first got caught up in the drug mess and whatever else he got himself into, but thankfully as of now, your child has yet to finish kindergarten so they are a couple of years ahead before that happens.
˚✧₊⁎- (TW: Death)
He was trying to stop the blood with everything he has, pressing his hands against the underside of his chin as the warm, metallic blood stickers through his fingers, staining the bathroom tiles below.
Choking on his own blood, Thanos slowly crawled into the corner of the bathroom, trying to escape from the chaos that erupted behind him. His face was scrunched together in pain as he rolled over onto his back.
The quiet sound of gurgling was completely drowned out by the sounds of fighting, yelling and punching as Thanos quietly gasped for air.
Fuck, this wasn’t how all of this was supposed to go. He should’ve just gotten the damn money and voted to leave, get that Nam-su or whatever to vote leaving too so he could go home with the guaranteed money instead of risking to play another stupid childhood game.
Now he is here, on a bathroom floor, drowning in his own blood because of a fucking fork.
His eyes were too heavy to be kept open, his warm blood on his hand weirdly enough made him suddenly feel so incredibly tired, like a large, warm blanket was just draped over him. He should close his eyes for a moment before he’ll continue to fight for his life.
Thanos can survive this, he knows that. How could he not? He has a kid back home, you. He promised to buy you a ring and propose once he had gathered enough money. Imagining you in a pretty white dress, standing by the altar, waiting on him with that pretty smile of yours.
He can’t miss his kid’s first day of elementary school, graduation, first day of middle school, first crush, first heartbreak. He can’t leave his kid alone in this world, they can barely walk. How will they get anywhere without him being there to carry them in his arms? He promised himself to be there for them with every step of the way they may take, with you in hand.
He just has to close his eyes for a second, then he’ll stop the bleeding and get up. Promise.
Dae-ho // Player 388

( Words — 1.5k )
Dae-ho was over the moon and back the moment he found out that you are pregnant. Pregnant, carrying his child! He always wanted a family of his own and you being able to grant him that wish made him fall in love with you all over again.
He’ll do everything for you during your pregnancy, just you rest and look pretty. Your boyfriend will transform into a complete malewife and cook, clean and completely pamper you. Not that he never did that before, he just did it even more now.
Whatever you wished for was provided; massage for your swollen feet? C’mere, put your legs on his lap. You want to combine the worst foods together and inhale that combo like a five star gourmet meal? Sure, he’ll go buy the ingredients, save him a plate!
Dae-ho adored cuddling with you even more during that time than before. He adored laying his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while his large palm gently brushed back and forth over your stomach.
Your boyfriend also takes his time every night to talk to the baby in your stomach. Feathery kisses would be placed all over your warm skin while he sleepily recalls things he did today, trying to get your baby to recognise that the man speaking to it was their dad.
He’ll talk about how he finished building the nursery and how much he looks forward to them seeing it, how you two went to the park today for a small walk, how he watched you ate seven hot dogs and proceeded to ask for his to eat as well.
You can’t help but grin how Dae-ho acts like the baby is already there, can listen and understand to what he is saying and react to it. Your fingers brush through his long hair while he slowly falls asleep with his head resting on your soft chest, his arms draped over your stomach.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a new dad, you can’t help but think about how much of a dilf your boyfriend had become.
His hair is messy and his face tired, yet he has that big grin of his always plastered all over. Dae-ho’s whole demeanour lights up even brighter with his baby in his arms, walking around your home shirtless with his muscles on full display for your shameless enjoyment.
Something extremely important to him is skin-to-skin contact, so you’ll have a half naked Dae-ho laying around on the couch with your baby curled up on his chest. He adores cuddling with you, so having a baby between you is a big bonus.
Even after your pregnancy, he was still in full on malewife mode, but now with a baby strapped to his chest. He cooks and includes his baby in the process so they can stay entertained, offering small tastes of the sauce he is working on or letting them have their own tiny cooking utensils to hold and inspect while he stirs the sauce.
His sisters also come by for a visit a lot so they can see the first offspring of the Kang family. They coo over your baby and congratulate both of you, but scold their brother sometimes for not caring for you well enough, especially after postpartum. Your reassurances that he does plenty fall on deaf ears most of the time.
They often times take your baby in so the both of you can have some alone time and rest. You two planned on taking a small vacation somewhere and treat yourselves to cocktails or something, but you and your boyfriend ended up sleeping and cuddling the full week and barely leaving the bed.
At first you and him enjoyed the peace and quiet, but after a day of naps, cuddles and breakfast at 4pm, Dae-ho suggested the idea of getting pregnant again.
He himself grew up in a big household and sure there were a share of fights over mundane things, but at the end of the day, he and his sisters love each other and have each other’s backs, no matter what. If one of them has problems, the others are there to help and support or bury the body of the problem.
He won’t forcefully push the idea of multiple kids on you though. If you say no he’ll totally understand it. He’s not the one carrying the baby for nine months and bleeds every month when he doesn’t, but Dae-ho will try and sweeten the idea of having a big family to you.
˚✧₊⁎- (multiple kids mentioned in this one)
As a veteran dad, Dae-ho always complies to his little monster(s) demands without complaint. He’s more of the fun dad that lets himself get used as a horse where his kids can hop on and be paraded around the home on his back. He could melt whenever his babies come up to him and ask him to join their roleplay, doesn’t matter if he’s going to be dressed up as a princess or supposed to play a big scary monster.
He’d be down to play all day every day, but once school work and homework comes into play, it’s going to be a little complicated. Dae-ho knows his ABCs and all but quadratic functions? Both him and his kid will be sitting by the table, crying of confusion and stress.
Despite being the fun-dad, he can be strict if he wants to. Sometimes his scoldings hit even harder than yours because of how tolerant he is. He never raises his voice or his hand, nor does he shame his child for doing something wrong. Screaming gets you nowhere, he learned that first hand, so instead he’ll try to understand their behaviour no matter how complicated or hard it may be.
Dae-ho is an incredibly proud dad and he will show it. Every award his kid wins, even if it’s a participation award, will be stored in the living room and somewhere you can admire it in its full glory. Every work of art that was ever gifted to him was kept in either large folders that sorted drawings based on the kid and year or on a shelf in the entrance area.
He also has plenty of pictures of his kids that he is ready to show off to everyone that had the misfortune of asking how they are. He’d spiral into a rant about their recent activities (no matter how mundane they seem, they are very special to him) and just how adorable they are, how they have your nose and eyes but his cheeks… the poor waiter just asked if they wanted a refill on his coke, not knowing about pandora box he opened.
˚✧₊⁎-
His body curled together as he pressed his back against the wall behind his bunk. Right now, Dae-ho wanted nothing more but the concrete to consume him, hide him away and muffle and the gunshots and yelling that was happening above him. His hands were tightly pressed up against his ears and his eyes tightly shut.
He hunched over to hide his face in his shaking knees, trying to hide from the gunfight, to hide form the shame of not being able to force his legs to walk and bring the much needed ammunition. Dae-ho knows he is useless.
“Dae-ho!!”
Player 120 calling out to him violently pulled him out of his trance, making him flinch. He stared up at her, his arms slowly moving off his ears, clearly shaking.
“Dae-ho, what happened?”
“I-I’m sorry.”
She leaned closer to him as he glanced away, lowering his head in shame. His lips pursed together and slowly began quivering as low whimpers escaped him. He felt her eyes literally piercing him.
“The magazines?”
Dae-ho stumbled over his own words, barely comprehending what she is trying to ask of him.
“I-I’m sorry— I-I…”
Hyun-ju glanced down to the hoodie near his cowering form and moved the cloth away to see what was inside. The ammunition magazines. Dae-ho flinched violently and lifted his arms to shield his face as she stood back upright with the ammunition in her arms, casting one last worried glance to the obviously scarred and horrified man before walking off.
The world around him went numb again as he kept repeating quiet “I’m sorry”s over and over, mixed together with broken whimpers.
No matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t pull himself together and force his arms to grab a gun and fight for the games to end, but being staying here, with the other players, would be safer. Out there he either could be captured and eliminated, shot in the fight and bleed out, watch others die in front of him, kill other humans. He can’t do that. He can’t. No matter if he was in the marines or not.
Back when Dae-ho left for the games and back when he didn’t know that said games include death and murder, you two talked about it. You warned him about how it’s too good to be true. Playing childhood games in exchange for hundreds and up to millions of won?
You made him promise he’ll keep himself safe no matter what. You made him promise to always keep you and his family in mind, how he has people he needs to come back to.
It seems that his own body and soul internalised that pinkie promise you made him agree to. He has to keep himself safe and alive.
Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)



( Words — 1.4k )
Finding out that you’re pregnant almost made him have an aneurism. He already has a child that he himself doesn’t have a lot/barely and contact with before she moved away to America and even less now thanks to the distance and the want to keep her out of his mess. The mess that are the death games and the mess he now forced you to be apart of.
Gi-hun already felt incredibly guilty for falling in love with you. Anyone being associated with him is now in the line of fire and probably in constant danger thanks to him. Yet you stayed with him and even provided comfort.
He actually apologised for getting you pregnant while standing in a grocery isle to choose some jumpers and sheets for the future nursery crib. It was out of nowhere after staring at you being so excited over your baby, how you couldn’t decide between two pairs of itty bitty socks.
Gi-hun does warm up after a week or two. He catches himself smiling brightly at nothing after thinking back on how round you already look, what you’re doing right now. His eyes soften up every time he walks past the pastel nursery he build himself, fixing the sheets in the crib and folding the baby clothes together for the 100th time. His hands pick up one of the toys and his fingers brush over the surface, feeling the material beneath his skin.
Every time he does all this, it hits him all over again. You’re pregnant with his child.
Since he already had a daughter before and knows how much of a terrible father he was to her, Gi-hun feels a mix of guilt and excitement blooming in his stomach. He knows what he did wrong, both in the department of marriage with his late wife and parenting, so he doesn’t repeat his mistakes again.
The feeling of selfishness always swims around in his mind because it feels unfair to his daughter how he can provide all the things for his future baby he couldn’t for his daughter; proper attention, the financial means, maturity, a good father figure.
Gi-hun rested his head on your stomach, his eyes closed in relaxation as he listens to both your heartbeat and the heartbeat of the growing life inside of you, your hand idly resting on his cheek. Even if he cannot fully fight those feelings of guilt and shame, he swears to be a better father this time. In no means is he perfect, but he will try his best from the bottom of his heart.
˚✧₊⁎-
Right after birth, Gi-hun was incredibly attached to the baby. He was paranoid for a long period of time, things like sudden infant death and all kinds of worst case scenarios always in the back of his mind. He was faster than you in getting up whenever it cried, rushing over to the baby’s side immediately.
He’ll cradle the baby in his arms, silently walking around the home in the dark even long after his child fell asleep. Most of the time, calming his baby is more to calm his own mind of worries.
Sometimes, you two move the crib into your bedroom to stand beside your bed, just so he can feel more secure and less paranoia. It soothes Gi-hun’s mind to have his baby right there in arms reach. His arm drapes over to the crib, his hand weakly holding onto the railing even in his sleep.
But beside his paranoia, Gi-hun is always ecstatic when around his baby. There is always a carefree and soft smile on his face whenever his baby innocently chews on his finger, his eyes intently watching the adorable bean coo and kick around in its crib.
You gifted him a small heart locker with a picture inside. Unoriginal, sure, but something he cherishes with a his being nonetheless. The picture had you and him together, hand in hand, on one side of the locker, a photo that is actually fairly old. It was of one of your first dates and he had a soft smile on his face. It looked hesitant and unsure, but it was one of the first smiles he cracked in a long time.
On the other side of the locker was a picture of your baby in the crib, looking up into the camera with big and curious eyes while chewing on a rubber toy. You dressed the baby in an adorable brown bear onesie, overloading his senses even more.
Gi-hun wears the necklace almost every day and keeps it secure under his shirt, fishing it out and opening the locker to look at the two pictures to remind himself why he is still fighting to stop the games. His fingers brush gently over your face and his baby’s cheeks, a small smile spreading on his face.
˚✧₊⁎-
Since Gi-hun was already had a daughter before, he already kind of knows how to raise a child, although he sometimes struggles with spoiling his child too much.
Thanks to both the guilt he feels for failing to be a proper dad to his daughter and now having such an insane amount of money he doesn’t know what to do with, Gi-hun showers both you and your child with everything you two could possibly want.
So sometimes you have to remind him that just because your kid really really wants that expensive lego set doesn’t mean he should buy it for them, perhaps when it’s their birthday or Christmas or they have done a very good job at something.
You have to teach the oblivious man how to properly manage his money and maybe not buy everything in sight for your kid. Gi-hun will listen to you with those big, sad puppy eyes he always has whenever you scold him about something.
Also, he adores playing with his kid. His favourite thing to do is to have them stand on his feet and put their hand into his, walking “together” through the apartment while loud, childish giggles fill the rooms. He also loves carrying and walking his kid everywhere, despite knowing very well they acted like they were extremely tired just so daddy can carry them for a while.
How can he possibly deny his precious baby?
˚✧₊⁎-
“Here, take this.”
He takes out an ammunition magazine and offers it to Young-il standing in front of him, who was watching him holding the ammo out to him. “You’re going to need it.”
Young-il’s eyes glosses over his hand and up to his face slowly as if not believing his offer. “Are you sure?” Gi-hun nods reassuringly, holding it a little closer to him.
“Dae-ho will be back with more.”
That was the reassurance he seemingly needed before reaching out and finally taking the ammo out of his hand, nodding slightly. “Let’s do this, then. We have to end everything now.” Young-il mumbled, briefly gesturing towards the necklace around his neck as if knowing what was hidden beneath his shirt. “We have to bring everyone back to their families.”
Gi-hun froze for a moment as his head moves back to his ally. Jung-bae glanced over to the two. Seemingly taken back, the man quickly elaborates. “I mean, you have a wife and child, right? I overheard you two talk about it.”
“Doesn’t matter right now, go!!” Jung-bae waved his hand as if to shoo him away. Gi-hun just nodded and spared him one last glance before turning back to the pink guards standing atop of the stairs. Yet he can’t shake the feeling of dread creep up on his neck.
His hand briefly brushed over the locker beneath his cloth, tracing the heart shape with his fingers. Did he ever talk about you or his child back home? Even about his older daughter living abroad? Does Jung-bae even know about his family? Maybe it’s a lucky guess of Young-il.
His brows furrowed together in thought before Jung-bae ripped him out of his thoughts. “Gi-hun? Are you alright?”
Gi-hun flinched slightly before quickly nodding. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry.”
Without wasting another second or a breath, he pulled the gun closer to his chest and aimed it around the corner and at one of the guards and continuing the shootout. Although Young-il’s last remark still was engraved in his mind.
In-ho // Young-il // The Frontman // Player 001

( Words — 1.6k )
The news of you being pregnant actually horrified him to the core for a moment. The last time his love of his life was pregnant she died in the hospital while he fought for his life in the death games. It is safe to say that In-ho has bad memories associated with pregnancy.
Those bad memories fuel his protective streak even further as you cannot find a moment to yourself. Your husband will be there, hovering near you since the first day you know of your pregnancy. He orders you to take a seat in the leather chair of his study with that Frontman-voice of his while he provides food, drinks and entertainment for you.
In-ho also employed a doctor on the island that specifically is there to give you full medical check-ups every week. He cannot risk loosing you or the baby this time, you have his heart tightly trapped within your grasp and he does not mind at all. His heart is yours and yours is his.
Your husband tries to pull himself away from work and planning this year’s games but the VIPs are quite demanding and he cannot afford to disappoint them. Although he is a lot more home than before which you of course enjoy.
Your husband is actually a very good cook and will cook for you as much as he can, but also doesn’t mind when you give into your insane cravings. He will question your choices though, maybe even check your forehead temperature to see if you’re sick or something when In-ho catches you devour a whole plate of cut fruits you generously salted.
In-ho always was more hesitant when it came to showing affection, fearing he might come off as weak or soft and maybe seem unattractive to you. Even if you think quite literally the opposite.
With you becoming pregnant he became more and more sweet with you. His kisses will be more frequent and linger longer on your skin, his hands will always find their way to connect with you and let them run over your waist, stomach, back and shoulders.
Your affection breaks this man more and more as well, your hand cupping his cheek making him melt and nuzzle into your palm like a touch deprived cat, your kiss warming up his soul over and over.
In-ho knew this before but he never fully realised how hard he fell in love with you.
˚✧₊⁎-
You’ve never seen him cry before so the sight of your husband completely breaking down and showering you in praises and kisses right after birth. In-ho pulled you closer against his chest as his tears flowed down to you, his lips whispering broken “I love you”s, “You did such a great job” and “Thank you”s.
You gave birth in a hospital in Soel and not on the island. It was the decision of both of you to spend the first few days after the birth in the old apartment he still owned in the capital city, away from all the death for just a while.
Those days were the most peaceful and pleasant days In-ho had in a while. It was almost like a dream come true, the dirtiest fantasy he ever allowed to imagine: a regular family life with a wife and child. To go to the grocery store to pick up some carrot baby food and the bar of chocolate you have been craving, to have his biggest decision be if the newborn will wear the soft pink bunny jumpsuit or the cozy grey cat onesie. To be a simple man and his only duties to be a husband and a father.
Although after two weeks of rest and peace, the games pulled him and with that both you and the newborn back to the island.
Your husband did set his will through with the VIPs though and worked himself more free time he could spend with you and the baby.
Though he sometimes takes his child with to work by strapping them onto his chest with a baby sling. He knows that the rather violent environment is not the best place to have a baby, so In-ho implemented changes in the control center to make the place a little more child friendly.
The word “eliminated” was a little too gruesome in his opinion, so he made the woman who spoke the first voiceover change it to “lost” or “lost the game”. The blood on the screens will be censored with the colour black and most of the sound will be muted as to not expose his baby to the screams and pleads of mercy and scar that young mind.
It’s quite the bizarre sight, the Frontman standing in the center of the control room, inspecting the new portraits taken of the players participating the games while a giggling baby was attached to his chest, curiously chewing on their own fingers, unbothered by everything around them.
˚✧₊⁎-
As a more experienced dad, In-ho, much to his dismay, found out that his now a little older kid is very attached to the Frontman mask. Sure, they still smile when they see their papa, but they do seem happier and more excited when he wears his mask and talks to them with the voice changer.
In-ho’s parenting style is more strict than lenient, though he does provide a lot of love, encouragement and praise for his child, even his ways to express those things are more subtle. His hands give out light pats on the head while a smile spreads on his face, giving them an acknowledging nod for their work.
Whenever his kid needs to be lectured, his voice is stern but not loud. Raising a hand does nothing but ensue pain, fear and hate, so he never did that anyway. Thanks to his role as the Frontman, he knows how to be and sound incredibly intimidating and menacing.
It’s not entirely his fault, but In-ho is not home with you and the kid most of the time. He is always incredibly busy, especially during that time of the year. He tries his best to compensate for that lost time by pulling himself away from the games and spend time with his family, but it proves to be harder than it sounds.
He has a lot of pictures of you two on his desk and study. Whenever stress gets to him in a moment of weakness, In-ho will take his time to go through every single one. All of the masterful drawings made by your child are also on full display for his enjoyment and you know he’s treating it like a modern art gallery; with uttermost care and interest.
˚✧₊⁎-
“Look closely at the consequences of playing your game.”
In-ho’s voice was deeper, distorted when speaking through the mask. His eyes pierced through the man kneeling in front of him. Gi-hun.
Gi-hun stared back up at him with so much hate, so much despise. It’s almost humorous to In-ho how the same man that seeped of both hate and determination insisted on giving him one of his essential ammunition magazines. Almost.
The Frontman moved and aimed his caliber at the kneeling man beside him, Jung-bae. He slowly moved his head over to his best friend in horror. “Gi-hun.”
Those were the last words he mumbled before In-ho pulled the trigger, executing the kneeling man swiftly.
As Gi-hun screamed and cried for Jung-bae, trying to reach out to his best friend as the pink soldiers pressed him firmly against the concrete floors below, the Frontman swiftly turned around and stepped away to the master control room, sliding his gun into the coat as he walked.
It was pitiful, he thinks. Not the display Gi-hun gave or how he naively trusted him as the played the persona of Young-il to the point of wanting to overthrow the games with him, but how he, In-ho, opened up to the man.
He talked freely about you and how you two met, fell in love and married, how excited and horrified he was when you got pregnant, how he cried for the first time in a very long time after you gave birth. Gi-hun laughed with him when he ranted a little bit about the adorable antics of his child and he comforted In-ho when he voiced how much he missed you and worried about you.
Most of it was planned to get closer to the man and build some sort of connection, to make Gi-hun think of him as a father and husband than a faceless player. It’s just that In-ho enjoyed talking to him so freely.
He doesn’t have friend, no connection to his brother, no people he can confide outside of you and he can’t really talk about his wife to you, can he?
It almost felt normal, like two men complaining about the small things in life like how dry the buns are they ate at breakfast, or compare their children to one another and pridefully gush about how his already knew how to speak both Korean and English at 1 year old and how Gi-hun’s daughter lives in America and goes to a prestige school.
Yes, he’ll miss those couple of days he spend with him. But duty calls. He has to move on now.
💠
Author’s note. Thank you so much for reading!
I wrote this over the course of around three days while recovering from a head concussion, so I apologise for any mistakes! This took a lot of effort but was incredibly fun to write!! This is probably one of my longest work yet but it’s totally worth the effort, I just hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!
Take care of yourselves <3
#💠squid game💠#the recruiter fluff#the recruiter x reader#recruiter x reader#gong yoo x reader#gong yoo x you#squid game x reader#squid game x you#squid game x y/n#salesman x you#the recruiter x you#squid game thanos#thanos x reader#thanos x you#su bong x reader#dae ho x reader#dae ho fluff#dae ho squid game#dae ho x you#in ho x you#in ho x reader#front man x reader#the frontman#young il x reader#in ho squid game#young il#frontman x reader#dae ho x y/n#player 001 x you#player 001 x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島
summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.
This is exactly the sort of night you needed.
The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.
It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight.
Whatever.
No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants.
The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.
This is the life.
Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight.
You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.
Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.
You thought those guys were out of town for the week.
You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.
There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.
Your eye twitches.
Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.
The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once.
Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone.
Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly.
"That guy's a fuckin' pussy."
Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.
The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying.
And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger.
You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.
Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage.
The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table.
That's when the shouting really starts.
And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.
The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven.
It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters".
All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of.
The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers.
It's perfect.
It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot.
The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?
Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.
Then:
"Shit, shit, shit—"
There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can.
You fail.
Eijiro Kirishima freezes.
What the fu—
It takes a second.
Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really.
There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks.
...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?
Shit.
Red Riot is on your balcony.
The Red Riot.
Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"
"...Hi...?"
Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered.
By Red Riot.
And... Red Riot is on your balcony.
You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony.
Abort mission, abort mission.
Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.
"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?"
You're speechless.
You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.
"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"
It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute.
Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.
Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony.
He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan.
He's trying to figure out the best way up.
How he even got up here is news to you.
(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)
Red Riot is huge. Like, huge.
Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it — but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!
A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second.
Then, he settles on his plan.
"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."
Loud?
Oh my god.
Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?
Oh my god, he is.
Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...
"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"
Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution.
It's... comical.
You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"
You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought.
Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin.
Holy shit, he's so fucking hot.
"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."
Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks.
Man, it sure is cute.
You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.
"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up.
"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."
Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony.
It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.
You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.
You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.
"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"
You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight.
Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail.
As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers.
Sweet, sweet revenge.
By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.
red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?
You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves.
Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.
Be like the night air.
Stay cool.
Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you.
You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly.
There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.
"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."
You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"
You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat.
Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."
"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."
"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"
You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."
Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"
You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.
"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."
His words drift off.
He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating.
"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.
"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.
It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.
All the wind rushed out of your lungs.
The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"
You're laughing.
Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.
"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"
"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.
Are you dead?
Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?
There's no fucking way this is happening.
Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy.
You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.
Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony.
Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.
"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?"
Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.
You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.
"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"
You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge.
"And if I took you to dinner?"
Another nod.
"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."
"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact.
Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot.
Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."
He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle.
He's still leaning up against the doorway.
"Here," you slip him the phone.
Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.
"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"
You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong."
Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?
Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his.
He got your number.
Holy shit, he got your number.
"Hey, Red Riot?"
He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"
You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.
"Is everything alri—?"
You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek.
Or, try.
As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this.
Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn.
He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello.
"I... Uh, I gotta go—"
"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"
Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony.
When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan.
He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner."
All you can do is nod.
Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.
This is exactly the sort of night you needed.
#noise complaint#kirishima eijirou#kirishima eijiro x reader#kirishima x reader#kirishima x you#red riot x reader#red riot imagine#mha imagine#bnha imagine#kirishima imagine#kirishima one shot#GUYS THIS WAS... THE CUTEST SHIT#SORRY I AM FOREVER A KIRI GIRL
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Tempting the Cowboy
Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.
warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex
word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)
a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.
Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.
The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.
Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.
A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"
The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.
"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."
With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.
As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.
Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.
It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.
As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."
A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.
"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.
"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."
He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."
"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."
Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."
You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."
"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."
You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.
But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"
"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."
The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"
He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"
"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."
The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.
There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.
As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.
But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.
"I remember a lot about you too."
You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"
He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."
You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.
Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.
You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"
His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."
You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"
"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."
"...how about bulls?"
Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.
You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."
He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.
"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.
You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."
Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.
"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."
"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.
"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."
"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.
"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.
Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.
"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."
You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."
His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.
"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."
"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."
"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.
"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."
He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.
"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."
He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"...you need me?"
You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.
You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.
Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.
"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."
As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.
"And you missed me?"
You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.
"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.
"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."
Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.
"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"
You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."
A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.
"Tell me what you need me for then."
Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."
His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."
Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.
He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.
With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.
What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.
"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."
Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.
"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"
Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.
He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."
"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.
"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."
You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."
He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."
His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.
"I can persuade you in other ways."
Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.
There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.
His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.
"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.
You laughed amusedly. "You already are."
His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.
He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.
His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.
A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.
"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."
You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.
The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.
"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"
You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.
But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.
The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.
Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.
He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.
"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."
He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Not as much as you are."
You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.
You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.
The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.
"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.
You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.
"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"
You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.
A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.
But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.
"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.
"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."
"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."
He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.
"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."
He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."
His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."
A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."
"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.
He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.
"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.
"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.
"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.
"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."
He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.
"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.
"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."
"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."
He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.
Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.
Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.
He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.
He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.
But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.
"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"
You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."
You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.
You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.
His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.
He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.
Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.
His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.
As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.
You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.
"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."
Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"
"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."
You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."
"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."
You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.
Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.
"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."
#gifwriting#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#cowboy spence
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
— APARTMENT 345. (PT I)
synopsis: moving into a new apartment with three men isn't exactly the most easy feat, but you think there's something quite unusual about your new roommates that makes life seem a little more fun. (prequel) ↳ episode synopsis: you suspect that one of your roommates has it out for you, making things a little more than awkward when you and him have a day off together. feat. karasu, otoya, yukimiya || wc: 3.6k contains: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, roommates au, modern au, fluff, misunderstandings, an attempt at crack (pls laugh), aged-up characters (20s), pov switches, more of a focus on karasu in this
You think your roommates are weird.
Not weird in a bad sense, but just... odd.
Their dynamic with each other is especially a little peculiar, considering none of them act the same way with one another, their personalities always twisting just a bit when interacting with the other roommate. But it's still clear there's this unspoken harmony between the three of them that upholds the peace in the loft. You just struggle to fit yourself in it to help the foundation of it all—as it's clear you're not a part of their little circle. At least not yet.
Yukimiya is by far the most normal one out of the trio and perhaps the one you've talked to the most.
A true gentleman at heart, he's always the first to greet you in the morning as you sleepily daze into the kitchen, a steaming black coffee at the ready in your cup for customization. You come home later than the others, but he'll always save some leftovers for you in the fridge for you to munch on, your name written in neat handwriting with a smiley face adorning glasses on an orange post-it plastered on the container.
You blame it on not really knowing each other that well, but you find he's the most docile with you. Him, Karasu, and Otoya have known each other since their high school days, so it's quite normal of them to bicker childishly with each other, but when it comes to you, you always see a rather gentle smile on his face. You think it looks a little fake, though, as if it's there by default.
Otoya is humorous by nature. He's funny without trying, without having to crack a smile from himself. In fact, you rarely ever see him smile, just always has a sleepy look to his face as he says the oddest things known to mankind and is often the starter to meaningless conversations.
"I feel like we should domesticate bears," he had said one time out of the blue. "I think they're too cute to not be pets."
"They'd bite yer head off an instant, dumbass," Karasu told him as he flipped a page in his magazine, to which Otoya nonchalantly shrugged.
"If it means I can pet them, then I'd take the risk," he said simply stated before stalking off to his room that always smells just a little bit fruity and sweet (It didn't take you long to figure out whose Pineapple Ice Lost Mary was on the kitchen island).
He wears weird t-shirts too. Aside from the "I ♡ MILFS" shirt you saw when you first met each other, some of your other personal favorites include his firetruck red shirt that simply reads "i have a bomb." in plain black Arial font and his beige long-sleeve that displayed a cartoon cat yelling "Chicken Parmesan!" in a graphic speech bubble. Clearly wearing them with no shame, you ask Otoya where he gets such... unique... t-shirts, to which the latter replied,
"Goodwill."
Karasu is the one roommate you haven't cracked fully yet. By far, he's the weirdest.
Even though he was the first person you had met when you were first being interviewed, he tends to keep to himself. Something in your gut says that he's staying away from you, purposely keeping himself at arm's length. He's still cordial, but unlike the other two, he doesn't really seem to spare much words with you. The most he'll usually do is just remind you that it's garbage day, but other than that, he rarely ever speaks more than sentence to you on the weekly.
Because of such, you think you have to walk on eggshells around him, always apprehensive that you'll make one wrong move that'll for sure root a dislike towards you with him when it's clear he doesn't really seem to favor you all that much. He'll give a nod of acknowledgement at you if you pass each other in the halls and will ask if he can borrow a charger, but nothing more personal. You figure that might be best—it's better to have a roommate who barely knows who you are but exist with you peacefully instead of a roommate who constantly butts heads with you.
So when you finally have a day to yourself that just so happens to coincide with Karasu's, you are nothing less of tense.
And to think you were going to spend the day finishing up on your soap opera with your pals Ben and Jerry! You were looking forward to having the loft to yourself, so when you see Karasu lounging on the couch and watching a soccer match, your stomach plummets. Otoya gets home at around 5:00pm, while Yukimiya gets home at around 6:30pm, meaning you'll be stuck with Karasu for at least a full seven hours.
Karasu notices you as you walk out of the hallway, turning his head towards you when you come into view. You freeze suddenly, body going rigid as his deep navy eyes bore into you.
Your surprise still lingers in your body, even as you open your mouth to try and greet him, but nothing comes out.
A brow raises from him. "Hi...?"
"Oh! Uh," you twitch, trying to recompose yourself. "Good morning—!"
"Mornin'," he quietly greets back after a confused moment of silence at your reaction.
When you stiffly shuffle towards the kitchen, you want to crumble and whine. Back still facing your roommate as you pour yourself a cup of coffee, you ask, "You don't have work today?"
"Nah," Karasu says boredly, "Boss took an early vacation, so everyone got the day off today."
"A-ah, I see," you quietly reply back with a thick tongue. Fighting the urge to wail aloud at the fact you'll be sharing a space with the one roommate that seems a little too far from your reach, you escape back to your room with your breakfast, not really wanting to be around him.
You were planning to do so much today! Clean up the loft, do some stretching on the balcony to catch some sunlight, cook up some meals in the open kitchen, but of course your luck doesn't bestow upon you today, as doing all of those would mean Karasu would be in your vicinity.
The mattress creaks when you miserably land on top of it, pillow soaking in your whines and sighs. You suppose your room will have to suffice.
On the other side of the wall, Karasu swiftly pulls out his phone, head clamoring with thoughts and questions as he opens up the "alvin & the chipmunks" groupchat in his contacts.
karasu (10:34) : eita —otoya (10:36) : wat karasu (10:36) : u told me her day off was next week friday —otoya (10:38) : ya, the last friday of the month —yukimiya (10:39) : Check your calendar, Eita karasu (10:39) : yea exactly. it's today u fucking buffoon —otoya (10:39) : wait fr —otoya (10:39) : fackkk im late on my credit payment again
Karasu smacks his hand to his forehead, cursing Otoya under his breath. Of course he misread the dates. Now he's stuck here with you for the next few hours and he doesn't quite know what to do.
—otoya (10:42) : idk what ur deal is shes nice —yukimiya (10:42) : Agreed. I think you just need to talk to her karasu (10:43) : u guys dont get it —yukimiya (10:45) : Why? Does she make you nervous?
A dry swallow passes through Karasu's sandy throat as he reads Yukimiya's text. Even though it was quite a loud secret, Karasu couldn't deny the fact you did, in fact, make him somewhat on edge. But not for the reason you think.
It wasn't his fault. He didn't expect you to be so attractive in real life given that your contact information's profile picture was simply just your first initial. How was he supposed to act when such a pretty thing is around him at nearly all times? He's never been very good with women the way his roommates are. Terrified of making an accidental wrong move, Karasu distanced himself away from you, trying to make himself scarce in fear of doing so.
He groans before typing his reply back.
karasu (10:47) : no
Otoya replies back in an instant, and Karasu thinks he should put hair removal cream in his shampoo at his response.
—otoya (10:47) : liar lmfaooo bet someones got a crush uwu
He grits his teeth, trying to fight the blush that he can feel creeping on his cheeks.
karasu (10:47) : stfu moron karasu (10:48) : as if u weren't making goo goo eyes at her yesterday morning —otoya (10:48) : not my fault! —otoya (10:48) : theres just sumn abt a cute girl in a large tshirt and short shorts... 🤔 really makes u think... karasu (10:49) : bro thinks hes aristotle —yukimiya (10:50) : Please stay respectful
Yukimiya then texts something that makes Karasu's brain fizz out ever so slightly. He frowns.
—yukimiya (10:50) : Tabito, why don't you take this time to do something with her to get to know her? To help break the ice —otoya (10:50) : yaaa like yk how me and her went to that flea market together —yukimiya (10:51) : Yes exactly. Or how she and I visited that pop-up shop down on 5th
As much as he'd hate to admit it, Yukimiya did have a point. You got along with the other two men just fine, even having the ability to crack teasing jokes with them without a misunderstanding flying about. But he knew if he even tried to do something of such with you, if you took it the wrong way, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.
karasu (10:55) : idk —yukimiya (10:56) : It doesn't have to be extravagant. Just something casual —otoya (10:59) : ye like what chappell roan says🫡 —yukimiya (10:59) : That's not what that song is about —otoya (10:59) : oh...
Karasu shuffles his phone to the side and settles woefully into the couch. He shifts his eyes to your closed door, where he knows you're in probably not giving him the time of day.
On the other hand, you're wallowing in your misery still, trying to think of what to do that escapes Karasu's radius around you. Perhaps you should go to a museum? Or maybe try out that new pottery place down the block.
You opt for going to the grocery store, thinking that be a good distraction and would allow you to get some fresh air. Maybe you should try out that pasta recipe you've been seeing all over social media nowadays.
You launch up in your bed, determined to make this day about yourself and not to allow yourself just simply mope around in your room as you march towards the door. Hand grasping the doorknob, you fling it open, ready to clean yourself up in the bathroom but instead find yourself facing Karasu, who has a hand up that was clearly ready to knock on your door.
You jump back. "Oh! Hi there!"
"Ah," Karasu slowly puts his fist down, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. Didn't mean t'startle ya."
"No, you're fine," you choke out, wondering what business Karasu may have that landed him at your door. "Did... did you need something?"
You wince at your tone, since it comes out a little sharper than you intended. Karasu seems to have noticed it, seeing as how he thins his lips ever so slightly.
"Uh... well," he starts slowly. "Was just wonderin' if you needed anythin' from the store. I'm 'bout to head down there to do some shoppin'."
You blink owlishly at his comment before giving a stiff, brief chuckle. "What a coincidence," you mention, "I was actually gonna go there myself in a few."
You think of this as your chance to perhaps finally get some breathing space for yourself. An elation fills yourself at the thought, and you begin to conjure up your list to give him, but then he says something that brings the former feeling of tension back into you, heaving you down like sand.
Karasu juts his hands in his pockets, turning to directly face you, his red ears hidden from view from you, curtained by his dark hair.
"Well, if that's the case," he begins all too nonchalantly, going to share your gaze. "D'ya want to tag along?"
And now you're here, side-by-side in a semi-crowded market with the one roommate who you don't even know the age of.
Something in your common sense attempts to get the thought of he doesn't actually hate you through your head. But you still can't help the fact that every time you brush against him, when he looks at you, you think he's sending you a warning.
In Karasu's eyes, however, when he scanned the area of the market, he notices that it's quite busy, so he understands that there'll probably be some times where you just accidentally bump into him to avoid running into others, his eyes flickering to you each to just make sure you're okay.
"Jeez, this much for apples?" you exasperate as you put down the bag of the fruit.
Karasu looks over your shoulder, his cologne suddenly filling your senses. Sweet... you think, yet woody. A slight hint of sage, perhaps?
"Yer better off just gettin' the individual ones," he points out and juts his thumb behind him, breaking you out of your trance. "Y'can get the same amount for cheaper by a buck or so."
"Oh, really?" you perk up and whip your head around to view how much the individually stacked apples were, but before you can process it, you spin around too fast and twist over your own feet.
An elderly woman on a motorized shopping cart is just a few feet shy away from you, and you brace for impact from running into it, but you feel a yank of your arm tug you back just in time.
"Woah there," Karasu is quick to pull you in close to his chest, letting the elderly woman glide by without another care in the world. "Don't get too hasty now."
You feel heat skitter over your face, embarrassed at the fact that you can't even move your own limbs properly around him. You should've just stayed back home, sighing internally at how impulsive you could get. To think you could withstand an entire shopping trip with your roommate that you think stays away from you when you couldn't even stand being in the same room as him!
You mumble an apology, Karasu's cologne wavering about you again in an attempt to calm down.
He suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the vibration of it thundering from his chest. You lift you chin up to see him... smiling? And it isn't one of those stiff ones that he often gives you nor the smirk he'd throw at Otoya or Yukimiya, it's a genuine one, one that shows his teeth and makes his eyes crinkle.
"Didn't think someone could get so excited 'bout mere apples," he remarks with a grin.
An incredulous stare glazes over your eyes, a lighter feeling in your chest suddenly gracing upon it.
Karasu takes notice of your staring and freezes. A dread leaks itself within his body, making him go rigid all of a sudden. Oh, he's really done it now. He can't go making such teasing jokes around you like you were Otoya or Yukimiya. You're not a guy either, it's not polite to be making such jokes around a girl barely knows.
An apology attempts to conjure in his tightened throat, but it dissolves the moment that he sees you break out into a smile yourself.
"Sorry," you breathe through a breezy laugh. "Economy's so bad nowadays that any good deal will get me reeling, y'know?"
Karasu's eyes soften when he spots your relaxed smile, one he's seen in passing but never to him, until now. And when you adorn it towards him and him only, he can't help but feel a fluttering feeling in his chest.
Yukimiya's words echo in his head. Break the ice.
"If that's the case," Karasu starts slowly. "The weather's gettin' peachy now. There's an actual farmer's market openin' soon downtown, and they sell their stuff for way cheaper than this crap."
He chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to avert his gaze away from your curious, awaiting one. He thinks those doe eyes could definitely beat a puppy's any day.
His breath hitches, confidence slowly building and falling as the seconds tick by.
Just break the ice.
"Would..." he coughs, clearing his throat. "W-would y'wanna go there with me... to check it out... next Saturday...?"
Karasu dares to turn his eyes back to you, where he finds you fondly smiling at him, assurance all over your features.
"I'd quite like that," you reply warmly.
The chicken plops into the pan with a hearty splat. Karasu winces.
"Shoot," he mutters, feeling a bit of the orange sauce flickering onto himself. "Didn't mean t'drop it that hard... did it get on ya?"
"A little bit," you laugh as you scoop up a bit of it from your arm and tasting it. Karasu looks for a sign of approval on your end to see if the pasta sauce is good on your favor and sighs when you nod contently. "Mm. Not bad."
The door to the loft clicks open and you avert your gaze to it after you sprinkle some salt into the boiling pot of water. In comes Yukimiya and Otoya, chattering about.
"Hi there," you greet, waving a hand.
Yukimiya is first to notice you both, surprise on his features when he sees his two roommates that had barely seemed to acknowledge each other since your move-in standing next to each other in the kitchen, cooking out of all things.
It's a domestic scene, one he thinks that you and Karasu would only accomplish in a year's-time or so given the current atmosphere. So it comes to a pleasant shock to him that the bull-headed Karasu actually took his advice for once and broke the ice by himself like a big boy.
"Smells good," Otoya hums contently and spots you and Karasu after Yukimiya. "Whatcha both cookin'? And can I have some?"
Otoya peers over Karasu's shoulder, the latter lightly shoving him back before Otoya can dip his dirty finger into the sauce. "Hold it, ya idjit. We're nearly done, relax."
"If you're able to actually, Otoya," you call over and jut your head towards the oven. "The garlic bread should be done by now. Would you mind taking it out so it can cool?"
"Can I get a piece?" Otoya asks, cheering under his breath when you nod as you roll your eyes.
Yukimiya watches as your pour in some pasta into the pot, noticing the way Karasu whistles haughtily as you laugh when the water violently bubbles.
"Ah, is this the marry-me chicken pasta I told you about the other day?" he asks, fighting a disappointment the builds when he acknowledges that he wasn't the one that got to cook it with you but rather Karasu, despite you and him have built a weekly-habit of cooking with one another.
"Yep!" you chime happily without a care in the world.
"I still think that the sauce is missin' somethin'," Karasu mutters. "Like there's not enough zing."
You peer over to him and take a little bit of the spare lemon leftover, squeezing a bit of it over the sauce and chicken. You take a spare spoon and sipping a bit of it. You then bring the spoon and its leftovers to Karasu's lips absentmindedly for him to try. "How's that?"
He pauses for a minute, breath hitching as you bring the same spoon that your lips touched for his to as well. He stutters but goes to lean in anyway, slurping it and tasting that tang that was missing.
Otoya's eyes narrow slightly as he places down the platter of bread.
Yukimiya's lips pull into a small frown.
You blink up at him. "Is that okay? I just added some more lemon."
"Yeah," Karasu breathes as steadily as he can muster. "yeah, it's good. Thanks."
"(Y/N)," Yukimiya announces aloud suddenly, averting your gaze to the brunette. He fixes on his usual demure smile on his face the moment you spotlight him. "Remember that new cafe that was being built around the corner? Turns out they're opening next weekend, d'you want to come with me?"
"Ah..." Otoya mutters lowly as he crunches on a piece of bread. "Why are you only inviting her?"
"I thought you guys don't like coffee," Yukimiya says casually, lips still fixed ever so lightly, but Otoya can tell there's a mild mockery behind that pretty face of his.
"I guess so," the latter says, sighing. "But... there's also the record shop also has its monthly 50% off sale on Saturday, remember, (Y/N)?"
Otoya's eyes go to glance at the record player you placed in the living room for decoration, yours and Otoya's collection of records piling up beneath it, your music tastes being one the things that you were able to break the ice with Otoya about. "I spotted that record you were talking about the other day, pretty sure it'll be a part of the sale if we can go next week."
A small bit of pity grazes on your face as you guiltily look back on the both of them from the kitchen island. Karasu fights the urge to smirk when he turns over the chicken in the pan, already knowing what you're going to say to them.
You scratch your cheek, smiling a little sadly at the two of them.
"I'm sorry guys, I'd love to go but," you wave a hand towards Karasu, who gives into temptation and throws a sly smile over his shoulder from behind you that makes the men you face frown and purse their lips. "Karasu and I have plans already that day to go to the opening of the farmer’s market..."
a/n. my re-run of new girl has inspired new heights it seems. also don't talk to me if u dont think otoya would vape bc ik that mf would hit a geek bar any time of the day /j (don't follow his example tho. keep them lungs clean, kids)
sorry that this was more focused on karasu than all three of them, but i prommy yukki and otoya will get their spotlight next time i write abt them (which will be soon hopefully! im having fun with this au)
thank you for reading as always! comments and reblogs are the best way to support your writers; they're always appreciated and never unnoticed <3
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock x reader#blue lock fluff#blue lock oneshots#blue lock smut#otoya eita#otoya#otoya eita x reader#otoya x reader#otoya x you#karasu tabito#karasu#karasu tabito x reader#karasu x reader#karasu x you#yukimiya kenyu#yukimiya#yukimiya kenyu x reader#yukimiya x reader#yukimiya x you#series ; apartment 345
655 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nobody Important
Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you first meet Logan you tell him you’re nobody important. But it soon becomes clear you are a lot more important than you say.
Disclaimer: Contains descriptions of nightmares, couple of swear words, being drugged (nothing bad, just some chamomile tea). Mostly fluff moments with a hint of angst. I watched X-Men and wanted to write something for him. Reader has powers though they're not specified fully. Not Proof Read.
When Charles told Logan someone was going to pick him up from the airport, the last person he expected was, well, you.
Compared to the pristine and fancy cars that were held at the school garage, you pulled up in a beat up old station wagon that looked like it had seen more than a couple of scratches in its time. And you weren’t dressed…like the rest of them.
Rather than in some kind of pant-suit combo, you were wearing a long sleeve t-shirt, jeans, boots and a heavy brown leather overcoat.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” You began immediately as you stepped out onto the curb and rushed towards him. “I was at the back of the forest collecting some berries and lost track of time. Shall we get going?”
Logan looked you over. You seemed a lot more…energetic than he was.
“Who are you?”
“Professor X sent me. To collect you. You are Logan, aren’t you?”
“That depends. Who are you?”
“Your ride to the school, unless you plan on walking for two hours in the freezing cold.”
Logan grunted and threw his bag into the backseat. You still hadn’t answered his question but the licence plate of your car matched that of the one Charles had told him to look out for.
However, fifteen minutes into the drive, Logan asked once more. “Who are you?”
You smiled and looked at him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the road ahead. “Nobody important.”
“Okay, fine. What are you?”
You smiled again. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
“Alright, listen bub-”
“Logan, whatever information about me you think you’re gonna have me tell you; it’s not gonna happen. I work with Charles and that’s all you need to know.”
Logan furrowed his brows. “So you’re a telepath? Like him?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with what or even who I am. But,” you reached down and pulled a file from the driver's side door before turning it over on the steering wheel and handed it over to him. “You should concern yourself about this.”
Logan took it, a little confused, and opened it up.
“He wants you to know what you’re walking into when we get back.”
After that, the rest of the drive was silent save for one question from Logan, only to have you reply with;
“All the answers you’re looking for are either in there or are with the Professor.”
He didn’t bother asking you another question after that. Not that you would have answered it anyway.
Once you finally did pull up to the school, it seemed you were beside him one minute and went the next into some unknown corner of the school because he didn’t see you after that.
But he still had questions.
Unanswered questions.
Like who the hell were you?
A week later, he still didn’t have his answers. But he did run into you again.
In the kitchens.
The entire place was a lot messier than the communal kitchen. It looked like some mix between a witches cottage and a mess hall in a school cafeteria. But it didn't smell as bad.
Instead it smelt of cinnamon, oranges, rosemary and cookies.
And somehow
It was relaxing to him.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Logan looked up to find you standing at the other end of the kitchen, a bowl under one arm and a spoon in the other. Flour was dusted across your face and your hands were splotched with food colouring stains. Which matched the batch of rainbow coloured cookies behind you.
“Err, no. I was just-”
“Here, sit. I’ll make you some tea.”
“I don’t really drink..tea.”
Logan was still taking in the room. Every time he looked back to a spot, he found a new detail to it. Extra herbs, or ingredients, or even flowers.
You smiled, placing down the bowl and spoon before moving across the kitchen to the simmering pot on the stove.
“Here, try this.”
“Oh, I, uh-”
“Just drink it.” You sighed a little, with a light smile. Nobody would have to meet Logan to know he wasn’t a tea drinker. But he was also polite enough to accept a drink.
And he did.
“Is this where you work?”
You nodded, going back to the fresh batch of cookies you needed to start scooping out.
“Do you usually work this late past midnight?”
You chuckled a little to yourself. “Sometimes. Mostly it’s because I think of a new recipe and want to try it out when no-one's gonna disturb me.”
“Am I disturbing you?”
“No. Plus, I heard you coming down the stairs. Figured it wouldn’t be long before you found another night owl.”
Logan grunted with a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s intentional being a night owl.”
You shrugged. “We all have our reasons.”
Logan nodded and took another gulp of his tea. If he thought he felt relaxed when he walked into the kitchen, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling after the tea.
“Hey, what’s in this tea?”
“Not much. Chamomile mostly.”
Logan nodded. But then something shifted. He was getting drowsy. Not relaxed. Not sleepy. Drowsy.
“Hey, what did you put in this?”
Logan went to stand and repeat his question, but he was out like a light before he could finish.
Logan, for the first time…ever, woke up slowly. From the light that came flooding in through his window, to slowly turning over and feeling the bones in his body crack just right to allow his joints to feel at ease, to not thinking a thing as his brain slowly turned back into gear.
Then he jerked up.
With a grunt, he looked around him.
He was in his room.
The last thing he could remember was your tea and the kitchen.
Flinging the covers from him, he tore his way out of his room and down the hallways until he finally reached his destination.
The Professor’s office.
Walking inside, he found the situation entirely too calm.
“Ah, good morning Logan. Glad to see you’re finally awake.”
“What the hell happened?”
“You fell asleep. Y/n helped put you to bed before you collapsed on her kitchen floor.”
Logan turned at that moment to find you sat on the sofa by the window inside the office.
“You.” Logan practically snarled. “You did something. What did you do?”
Logan approached you but where anyone else would have flinched, you didn’t. In fact, all you did was sit back further and smile up at him.
“She didn’t do anything, Logan. You needed to sleep.”
Logan turned and looked at the Professor. “Don’t mean I have to be drugged.”
Then you stood. “It was just a little tea, Logan. The more exhausted you are, the faster and harder it works. But now you look more rested. Your skin looks less like you’ve been thrown into a washing machine for a couple spins.”
“Are you always this blunt?”
You smiled. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Ain’t nothing charming about this conversation, doll.”
“Really? Because I’m finding this thrilling.”
Professor X smiled. “Okay, that’s enough, you two.”
“She started it!”
You just smiled again. “You’re welcome. If you ever need more tea, you know where to find me.”
With a pat to his arm, you walked past him and said your goodbyes to the professor before heading for the door.
“Don’t worry about it, you can keep your tea.”
“Have to admit, though. I did help.”
Internally, reluctantly, he did have to. Because despite everything, it was one of the best nights of sleep he’d ever had.
Another week rolled by and despite Logan doing everything he could to avoid the woman that he still considered had drugged him to sleep, he seemed to see more of you.
Turns out, you taught cooking and baking classes to the students so they could at least make themselves a decent meal every once in a while instead of quick ramen noodles. And you also taught outdoor survival skills which Xavier had Logan help sub in with.
But this also meant, much to his chagrin, Logan was actually starting to like you.
Rather than wanting to storm off in the other direction, he wasn’t annoyed by your presence in the room anymore and you definitely had a way with teaching a group of rowdy teenagers who would rather do anything other than learn normal “camp” things.
It was actually entertaining watching you teach your students. And even he learnt a thing or two.
Another week passed and Logan found himself back in your kitchen, sitting at the kitchen island, watching you as you lent one palm on the counter top, a pencil between your teeth and two pens behind one of your ears.
“Want some tea?” You asked him after a few minutes of content silence.
“Are you going to drug me again?”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s store bought, Logan. I just added a couple extra things.”
“Really, like what?”
Sighing, with a slight smirk, you turned around and pulled the box of tea from the cabinet before throwing it at Logan from over your shoulder. “Read it. It tells you what to add.”
“They actually sell this stuff?”
You turned back to your messy notebook with a smile. “It helps when your grandmother worked in the tea business for forty years. All the tricks of the trade, passed down through generations.”
Logan watched you work- no, dance around the kitchen. You didn’t even have to look at what you were doing and before he knew it, there was another tea in front of him, in a glass mug with hand-painted roasting logs on it.
Logan looked at it for a moment and then you spoke up, without looking in his direction. “Being a night owl means different hobbies can be created. Glass painting was one of them.”
Logan shrugged with a nod before drinking his tea. The effects weren’t as quick or as “violent” as the first time. Instead, it was calming, then relaxing, then just plain and simple tiredness.
“Go to bed, Logan. Before you crash into my floor again.”
“How did you get me to bed the last time? I’m not exactly all flesh and blood.”
You shrugged. “I’m stronger than I might look to you. But, go to bed, Logan.”
“Will you?”
“Will I do what?”
“Go to bed, too?”
You turned and faced him. “Soon. I want to finish this up first.”
“What are you even doing?”
“New recipe. I shouldn’t be long. Look, I promise. Twenty minutes, I’ll be in my bed, fast asleep.”
Logan raised his brow for a moment but then stood. If he waited any longer, he might actually crash onto the floor again.
“Okay, fine.”
And you stuck to your word. Logan heard your footsteps coming up the stairs less than ten minutes later and after that…he didn’t remember much other than just complete calmness and sleep.
The next couple of nights followed the same pattern. And even if he still wasn’t a tea drinker, Logan was growing a (small) taste for it.
Until one night he walked in and found you stood in the corner, changing your t-shirt.
You already wore a cami top underneath most of your t-shirts anyway – especially in the kitchen, but your first one had gotten too messy. So you were safe when changing. Except, you hadn’t expected Logan to walk in when he did.
He paused for a minute by the door, a little apprehensive to make himself known but also trying to do so, so it wouldn��t seem like he was just watching you change your top t-shirt. But at the same time, he didn’t want you to know he was standing there because he could finally look at you.
More so, when he saw your shoulder.
From your left shoulder spread and faded over the top and to your right, a mark similar to a burn. The skin was scarred, yet healed over. A forgotten memory. The strap of your top cut through the larger scar that ran directly across the middle of the scarred skin, almost in a wave. Parts were redder than others but you didn’t seem to be in pain as you pulled the t-shirt over the top of your head and down your body, covering it back up.
Logan coughed as he entered and you turned around, greeting him as you did every night.
“New recipe?”
You nodded, looking at the messy t-shirt in your hand. “Yeah, it didn't go over too well with the mixer.”
“Better luck next time.”
And then you both just…talked.
You were slowly telling him a little more about yourself each night, even if you didn’t know it yet.
“I just remember being thrown into the wall and waking up like an hour later, completely covered in green brownie batter.”
You both laughed as you told him the story, but then he asked.
“Is that where the scar is from? On your back?”
It was almost as if you had forgotten about it, having to take a moment to realise what he was talking about.
“Oh, that. No, that…that’s nothing important.”
Logan knew to drop his line of questioning. If you said it was nothing important, then there was no way of getting you to talk about it.
Until the day he found you napping on the sofa.
Everyone was outside for the day considering it was winter break and fresh snow had finally fallen on the ground. Except, you had opted to stay inside, and fell asleep on one of the central sofas in one of the quieter communal areas.
The large windows let a lot of natural light flood in, and the fire that was crackling away in the fireplace was enough to heat the room, especially when the door was closed.
And it wasn’t long before the quiet hum of the fire and odd crackle of the wood, mixed with the heat and your lack of sleep, overtook you and you fell asleep. You didn’t even wake when your book dropped from your hand and onto the floor.
“Hey, Y/n, they’re all-”
Logan stopped in his tracks when he saw you.
Fast asleep.
He was careful to remain quiet as he walked over to you, cutting between you and the coffee table to pick up your fallen book and place it safely onto the table, where he sat on the edge and took a minute to just…memorise you.
Since he met you, you had done nothing but be moving. All the time. From the crack of dawn to nightfall, you were constantly going and running and teaching and baking and doing and…hell, for all he knew, you could be something other than mutant or human – even those two needed sleep at some point.
Hell, even he needed sleep.
But you were just constantly forever going.
Lay on your left side, your elbow tucked under your head, you were lightly snoring. Logan brushed the stray hairs that had fallen in front of your face, away, his hand rested on your cheek for a moment, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone for a second.
You were fast asleep.
Your worn Beatles band-tee was twisted slightly around your middle, whilst the waist of your jeans had twisted in the opposite direction a little, leaving a small gap that showed Logan the redness from the indent marks of where you had been lay, probably, on your other hip for a while.
Logan thought about covering you up, and leaving you where you were, for a moment. But he also knew you could be like him when it came to sleep. And it was best to get it when you could. So, rather than chance the kids coming back in and waking you up, he made a decision.
You flinched a little in your sleep as he spoke to you and lifted you from the sofa. It wasn’t long before he found your room and laid you into bed before covering you up.
Once more, he brushed the hair from your eyes as you turned onto your side again.
He looked around for a moment before finding what he was looking for.
A heavy blanket.
He lay it over the top of your bedcovers and you, before moving across the room to light the fireplace.
Only, as he did so and placed the fireguard in front, you whimpered.
He turned around but you were still.
Then you whimpered again.
“No,” you whispered.
Logan moved over to you quickly and quietly as he could. You fell silent again.
He let out a small breath and covered you up a little more before leaning down. He didn’t know why, but he pressed a small kiss to your temple before walking away.
Except you reached out for his hand.
Logan looked down at his hand that was connected with yours, then to you. You were still asleep.
But it didn’t look like it was a good dream.
You were shaking. Your entire body seemed to be paralysed with fear, all the while you were mumbling words Logan just couldn’t quite make out.
Then the glass of water by your bed started shaking. Then the table it was on. Then your bed. Then the floor. Whatever was happening to you was spreading throughout your room.
A picture that had been hanging on the wall outside, fell to the floor.
Quickly turning back to you, Logan took hold of your shoulder. He kept calling your name but it was like you couldn’t hear him.
“Please…please don’t hurt them. Please.” You screamed and then grunted in pain. Whatever was happening in your nightmare, you were being hurt. Badly.
“Hey, Y/N! Hey, you’re okay! You’re safe! You’re in New York. You’re at school! It’s not real, Y/N. None of it is real.”
Your head shifted. You were searching.
“I’m right here. None of it is real. You need to wake up.”
“L…Logan?”
The violent shaking in your room slowed for a moment.
He was shocked. Maybe…
“Just follow my voice. It’s just a nightmare. I can’t get into your head and bring you out. Just…follow my voice.”
The shaking around your room gradually slowed, but you still were. Then your eyes opened.
And glowed.
They were still your eyes just…brighter.
“Logan?!”
He had stopped speaking. You were panicking.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.” Logan took hold of your hand and held it tighter. “You’re safe.”
The shaking slowed and your eyes closed again.
Then everything stopped.
Everything went silent.
Logan looked at the glass of water beside your bed. It was like it had never moved.
Then you gasped and shot up from your bed. You kicked your legs and brought your hands behind you to push yourself up and the covers from you.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, Y/n. Hey,”
You were gasping for breath, dizzy from your nightmare.
“Hey, it’s me. Whoa. Hey, look at me. It’s Logan.”
He took you by your shoulders then your face.
“It’s Logan.”
You finally calmed a little, and he watched your eyes search his entire face until you finally recognised him.
“Logan,” you breathed.
“Yeah…”
Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned closer to him, wrapping your arms around him. His hand held the back of your head and his other round your back, pressing you further into him. He could still feel your body trembling.
“What happened?”
“You had a nightmare.” Logan told you. “The room started shaking and I tried waking you up.”
You took a couple of breaths before moving back and pushed the hair from your face and curled your legs up closer to your chest.
Logan, sat beside them, placed one of his hands on your knee and the other in your right hand.
“What happened?”
You shook your head. “Nothing-”
“The entire room started shaking and your eyes glowed. That’s not ‘nothing important’, Y/n.”
You swallowed and nodded your head before dropping your gaze and shifting until you were sat up, crossed-legged.
Logan remained where he was, sat on the edge of your bed.
“Before I worked as a teacher and cook here, I was one of them.” The last four words came out slowly, almost like you had to convince yourself you were saying them out loud. “I was an X-Man. I was a part of the team.”
“So what happened?”
“The usual. A mission gone wrong.”
“And that’s what the nightmares…”
You nodded. “It was the mission that made me retire. They needed me to do a job, and I couldn’t do it. There were kids, mutants, being held captive. Some rich dick thought he could duplicate mutants. As the team went it, I was meant to be holding ground outside, helping them find their way through. Only, I didn’t shut off my power. We knew they had someone who could detect me if I didn’t. I got so focused on trying to find the kids, trying to make sure the team got to them that the team almost…”
You paused for a minute. You hadn’t told anyone this story. Ever.
Logan took your hand. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
You let Logan’s touch soak into your skin. A memory you’d never forget yet never truly remember why you never would forget.
“They almost died, Logan.” You looked at him and he could see the tears behind your eyes, threatening to come forward and fall again. “Everyone almost died, because I didn’t shut it down. You asked about the scar, the one on my back?”
Logan nodded. He didn’t like where this was going.
“It’s from that day. One of their scientists had set off some kind of power..thing. Sent me flying blocks away from where I was supposed to be. I crash landed into some old wooden panelling which knocked me down. But once I got up…their Superhuman had found me.”
“Was he the one that-”
You nodded, remembering it as if it was yesterday. “I was thrown, this time on my front. I tried to get up but then all I felt was pure fire. He was burning me. Giving me a reminder of why ‘someone like me, born with the powers of gods’ shouldn’t have them when I was clearly so ‘weak’. By the time he stopped, I realised where he was going. And by the time I got up, everything just…blew up.”
“Y/n, everyone’s safe. You’re all here. Don’t you teach some of those kids?”
You nodded. “Doesn’t mean I don’t forget that feeling. One of the kids had been watching the guards, tracking their materials to find a way out. If they hadn't done that…they wouldn’t have gotten out, Logan. And they almost didn’t. All because I couldn’t fight. I can’t be the reason why I lose my family and the people I love.”
The tears came forward now, streaming down your face at an unstoppable speed.
“I just can’t.”
Logan shook his head, pushing himself closer to you to hold you. And you let him. Leaning into him, you felt his arms grow tighter around your body. There was a small security in his arms, one that you hadn’t felt in a long time.
“None of that was your fault.” Logan told you. “I know you and I know this team. You would never intentionally hurt people. And forgetting to turn your powers off? We’ve all made mistakes in moments like that. Sometimes you get so focused on one person, you tend to lose all sense of self. But none of that was your fault. They got out. They’re all here. They’re all alive. And rich dick is spending his life as dust in the fucking wind.”
“Believe me, I’ll be the first to tell you changing your feelings on something won’t stop the nightmares.” Logan continued. “But you need to find a way to let it go. Don’t let them control you. Not when you won. Not when you’re here, with everyone, able to drug me with some store bought tea.”
You laughed a little at that, wiping your tears away before Logan did the same thing, brushing his thumb underneath your eye and across your cheek. Logan smiled a little. Others might have called it a muscle flex, but knowing Logan; it was a small, brief smile.
“Don’t let them win.”
You nodded, your head still in his hands.
“Logan? Will you…Can you stay?”
It seemed to take Logan a second to find his answer. What you couldn’t see was that most of that time, he was trying to figure out why his answer came as fast as it did for him.
“You don’t-”
“I can stay.”
You looked up at him and nodded with a slight smile.
Moments later, Logan had kicked his shoes off and was lying beside you in bed.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
You took his hand that lay between you both and turned your head to look at him.
“Thank you for staying.”
It was his turn to turn his head and when he did, he felt something. The same feeling he’d been getting since the day you gave him his first cup of tea.
Logan just nodded before lifting his arm. “Come here.”
You moved closer to him as he lifted the covers a little so you could do so. Then he dropped his arm around your back, his palm flush against its centre before it slid a little lower to hold you by your waist.
As your head settled close to his chest, he dropped his head a little, leaning his jaw against the top of your head and as he felt you relax and close your eyes, he did the same thing.
The moment your breathing became even, and he knew you were asleep, Logan settled back down and held you just a little tighter against him as he closed his eyes and joined you in a dreamless sleep.
Hours passed and Charles hadn’t seen either you or Logan in hours. But when he spotted a picture frame that had fallen onto the floor, just outside of your room, he sped as quickly as he could down the hall, but paused when he saw the door open and a sight he didn’t think he’d get to witness for at least a few more months.
From the hallway, Charles peered in to find the snow falling heavily outside of your window. The children and other teachers were still outside playing. The fire had died down a little, but even he could feel the heat from the room.
And in the middle of the left hand wall through the door, was your bed.
Where yourself and Logan slept soundly, almost as one. With your face and hand on his chest, and his arm around your waist, whilst his other hand held onto your arm in a soft grip, keeping your hand on him.
Xavier could practically feel the serenity oozing from the pair of you. He knew Logan was troubled and that you yourself hadn’t felt safe or content in a long time.
And he would never have to tell Logan of the change you brought to him, or the one he brought to you. The change that helped you feel safe again, content again. Happy again. Without the added feeling that something was about to go off kilter.
Because Logan already knew.
And so did you.
And for Logan, no matter how many times you would tell him you were “nobody important”, you would always be important to him.
#wolverine x reader#logan x reader#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x fe!reader#logan x fe!reader#logan howlett x fe!reader#x-men#x men x reader#charles xavier#logan wolverine#marvel#mcu#fluff#angst#strangers to lovers#forced proximity#early x men movies#falling in love#mutants#x men mutants#powerful reader#reader has powers#wolverine#the wolverine#logan#logan howlett
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Their Girl
WandaNat x Reader
Summary: Wanda and Natasha invite you to a party where you meet their friends for the first time.
CW: Alcohol
Word Count: ~3k
A/N: Sorry, this took so long! This story has given me such bad writer's block over the past week. But I think it turned out cute, and I hope you all enjoy it!
Chapter 5 of A Room of Your Own
The end of the summer came quicker than you expected. It seemed like the semester had just begun when the leaves started to yellow and fall off the trees. Wanda was now insisting she drive you to school because your car didn’t have any heat, and, even in mid-September, the New Jersey mornings were getting nippy.
One afternoon, Wanda and Natasha mentioned a party they were attending. It would be hosted by the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts, for all the women who had a senior position with the company. The men, they explained, got a different party after an incident a few years back where Tony, her husband, got so drunk he almost blew up an entire gala. The men thought it was hilarious. Pepper and the rest of the women were less amused. You thought it was a bit of archaic practice, but you certainly weren’t going to complain about having a party with no men.
Apparently, it was an annual thing. Pepper had always said there were too few women in at least the senior positions of Stark Industries, so she worked hard to make sure it was a tight-knit community. The end of the summer pool party was, allegedly, a fan favorite. Wanda and Natasha both described it fondly. The pool was big, and Pepper always had an open bar. After swimming, the party continued inside with more drinks and some chill wind down time. Natasha said it was pretty much exactly as you’d imagine a sleepover where everyone is over the age of 30 and also rich.
You were unreasonably nervous to go, so much so you almost decided to stay home. You had never met Wanda and Natasha’s friends before, and you wanted so badly to impress them. You would certainly be the youngest person there by a wide margin. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of your age but meeting a group of women 15+ years older than you was a daunting task.
But when you saw the excited smiles on Wanda and Natasha’s faces at the prospect of introducing you to their friends, you couldn’t bring yourself to let them down. It didn’t hurt that they both looked stunning in their bathing suits, either.
Natasha wore a relatively plain black two piece under a translucent extra-large white t-shirt. That didn’t, however, keep her from looking absolutely breathtaking. The suit left little to the imagination, showing off her toned arms and stomach. The tape you had just applied to her shoulder that morning was fully displayed just above her bicep, despite the injury being mostly healed. You could see every muscle tensing and moving as she picked up everyone’s bags and carried them down to the car.
Wanda came down just behind her in a slightly more modest one-piece that wrapped up around her torso, leaving her sides on display. Her soft, pale skin poked out from underneath the wine fabric. You licked your lips subconsciously.
“Are you ready?” she asked, beaming from excitement. She was so caught up in her excitement, she didn’t even seem to notice the slight way your face reddened. You were grateful.
You swallowed anxiously but nodded. “Yeah.”
“Nervous?” She raised her eyebrows.
Of course, you couldn’t even hope to hide your nerves from her as well. You didn’t respond.
“Don’t be. They’re going to love you,” she reassured with a smile. She held out her hand, grabbing yours and leading you to the car.
Wanda’s excitement melted away your nerves rather quickly. She was practically skipping to the car, humming to herself. She seemed so light and carefree in a way that was infectious. You could tell even Natasha was surprised to see her wife in such a jovial mood, but it quickly spread to her as well. The three of you spent the entirety of the car ride singing what Wanda called “summertime songs,” but it really just seemed to be Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits.
When you finally arrived at the Stark residence, you were in shock. It was most certainly the biggest house you’d ever seen by a pretty wide margin. In fact, it couldn’t really be described as a “house” at all. It was a giant, towering building in the middle of the city. When Natasha pulled up, a door opened to what appeared to be a private parking garage. You were shocked. You’d never seen anything like it.
Wanda opened the door to the backseat and helped you out of the car, resting her hand on your shoulder to reassure you as she ushered you into the house. You were first met by an older woman with blonde hair. You assumed it was Pepper. Wanda and Natasha both greeted her with a hug.
“And is this the Y/N I’ve heard so much about?” she asked, turning to you with her hand out for you to shake.
Wanda put both her hands on your shoulders, smiling from ear to ear while you shook her hand. “This is her!”
The way Wanda spoke of you took you off guard. It was almost like she was proud of just simply knowing you and having you in her life. She wanted her friends to know you. It wasn’t a phenomenon you were used to by any stretch. You would’ve thought the only exciting thing about you was that you knew them. But the way Wanda presented you implied she thought differently. It was as if she was saying “look at this beautiful, wonderful thing I found.”
You shook Pepper's hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Potts.”
She chuckled. “Oh, please, just Pepper is fine.” She took a step back, addressing the three of you now. “Can I get you all anything to drink? Carol and Maria are already setting up downstairs by the pool. We’ve got an open bar down there. We’ve got pretty much anything you can think of.”
She led you, Wanda, and Natasha, down a hallway to an elevator. You were shocked to find that the pool you were meant to swim in was actually indoors. You thought that kind of defeated the purpose of having an “end of summer” celebration, as the pool would likely be available all year round, but at least it would be warm.
Intimidated by the other women in the room, you stuck close by Wanda, following so close behind her you accidentally made her trip on her flip flop. Thankfully, she noticed your nerves and took them in stride, putting her arm around your waist and leading you to the bar while she made conversation with Pepper. You were happy to stick silently by her side, watching her talk rather than being prompted to make conversation yourself.
You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as Pepper asked for your drink order. You were old enough to drink, but just barely. You had been to bars and ordered drinks, but you still weren’t exactly sure what you liked or how to order it.
Luckily, Wanda seemed to pick up on your struggle rather quickly. “Do you like the taste of alcohol, or would you prefer something fruity to cover it? Like a juice.”
“Juice, I think,” you answered.
“What kind of liquor do you want? Vodka? Tequila? Gin?”
You shrugged. You really had no idea what you wanted.
“How do you feel about starbursts?” Pepper chimed in, stepping behind the bar. “I’ve got a drink that tastes just like them.”
“O-okay,” you nodded.
She quickly mixed up a sparkling pink liquid, pouring it into a cocktail glass and sliding it to you across the bar. “See if you like that.”
You took a sip. It was delicious, tasting of strawberries and lemonade without even a hint of alcohol. You smiled and nodded. “This is perfect. Thank you, miss- I mean Pepper.”
Wanda gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and shot Pepper a wink that you didn’t see.
“A rum and coke for Nat?” Pepper asked, not even waiting for a response before popping open a can of coke.
“Mhm,” Wanda nodded. Pepper slid the small glass across the bar after stirring it with a long metal spoon. Wanda handed it to you, pointing to where Natasha was standing with two other women across the room. “Would you bring that to Tasha, love?”
You nodded, striding carefully across the room, trying not to spill either of the drinks.
Pepper leaned over the bar, resting on her elbows. “She’s a mama’s girl,” she teased, smirking at Wanda.
Wanda turned around and playfully punched her arm. “Shhh. Shut up.”
Across the room, you handed Natasha her drink. She smiled. “Thank you, y/n.” She took a long sip of the dark liquid before realizing she hadn’t introduced you. Carol and Maria already knew about you, but you didn’t have a clue who they were. “Y/n, meet Carol and Maria.” She gestured at both of them respectively. “Carol and Maria, meet y/n.”
Carol reached out to shake your hand and you all three whispered awkward “nice to meet you”s.
Natasha smiled devilishly, gently taking your drink from you and setting it next to hers on a table. “Where’s your phone?” she asked randomly.
“In Wanda’s bag. Why?” you asked, confused.
Before you could even process what was happening, she ran towards you and picked you up in a fireman carry before jumping into the pool.
You squealed just before you hit the water. She quickly resurfaced with you in her arms, carrying you bridal style. “We did verify that you can swim, right?”
You laughed. It was a little late to be asking that question. “That’s a hell of a thing to ask me now, but yes, I can swim.”
She took your response as permission to flip you backwards, throwing your legs over your head. You straightened out under the water, torpedoing off the bottom of the pool to grab her by the ankles and pull her down. The two of you wrestled in a frenzy before you both swam to the shallow end, breathless and exhausted. By the time you caught your breath, you saw the one Natasha called Carol sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet in the water.
She was leaning back causally on her hands, laughing at you and Natasha. “Do you know how to play chicken?”
You waded over, resting your arms on the side of the pool. “Is that the one where you get on someone’s shoulders and try to knock each other down?”
Carol nodded. “Do you wanna play? You and Nat and Me and Maria?”
You turned around to look at Natasha, who was clearly waiting on an answer from you as well. It honestly did sound like a good time. And it would be an easy way to bond with Wanda and Natasha’s friends. You nodded.
Carol slid into the water. “Maria, get in here! We’re playing chicken and you’re my attacker!”
Maria was at the bar, but she eagerly made her way over to the pool at the proposal. “Fuck no, I’m the base.” She got into in the water, putting her hair up with a clip.
Carol rolled her eyes, but agreed, climbing onto Maria’s shoulders. Natasha bent down, so you could climb up on her shoulders. She easily hoisted you up out of the water. It took Maria a minute to get her footing, but they eventually balanced out.
Natasha and Maria circled each other for a minute before Natasha charged towards them. You hardly even got your hands on Carol before Natasha was sliding Maria legs out from under her, sending them both into the water.
Wanda cheered from the bar, then she and Pepper made their way to the pool side, dipping their legs in the water while carefully trying to avoid the splash zone.
Natasha didn’t even wait for Carol and Maria to get fully prepared before she charged in for a second time. She took their fumbling as an opportunity to let you get a push in. It only took one sharp push to Carol’s shoulder to send them back into the water again.
Wanda cheered again, beaming with pride and excitement to see you getting along well with her friends. You were clearly coming out of your shell already, giggling and squealing as you got more and more competitive. She loved watching Natasha have a good time too. It was her two favorite people playing with some of her other favorite people and having the time of their lives doing it. She and Pepper clicked their glasses together, thrilled to watch everyone having so much fun.
After a few rounds of losing, Maria finally agreed to let Carol be the base. Carol was much sturdier, making it harder for Natasha to knock her down. Maria was a lot stronger than you, and, without Natasha being able to easily sweep them off their feet, she had you off Natasha's shoulders in seconds.
Wanda and Pepper continued to make commentary from the sidelines, trash talking both teams, but as soon as Carol suggested they join in, both women backed off a bit.
Natasha was a stone pillar, never once falling to Carol, but Maria very much outmatched you. In the end, they ended up winning, successfully sending you into the water more often than not.
When you finally got out of the water, Wanda was there with a towel held open to dry you off. Pepper watched with a smug grin as Wanda doted on you, drying your body and hair and sending you to the bathroom with warm, dry clothes.
The ice in your drink had melted, making it watery and unpleasant. Wanda insisted she would make you a new one as soon as you got up to the lounge. She didn’t want anyone getting too drunk while they were still by the pool, especially not you.
The lounge was as nice as you had come to expect from the Stark tower. It was a comfortable room with another bar and nice white couches. There were even some beanbags and cushions scattered around the room to make it even more cozy. You picked out a bean bag close by the edge of the couch where Wanda was sitting.
Pepper mixed you another drink, and you listened in pleased silence while all the women joked with one another and caught up about their lives. Maria had gotten a new dog, Carol had spent a few months away in Scandinavia, Pepper had recently taken over the management for Stark Enterprises, replacing her husband Tony as CEO. You were pulled into the conversation a few times to talk about your experience at school or your plans for the future, but mostly you just sat back with your drink, enjoying the chatter.
By your second drink (or second and a half if you count the one you drank before swimming) you started to feel a warmth spread across your chest. Your eyes started to flutter, and your thoughts became slow and distant. It was a nice feeling, but slightly exposing and vulnerable as well.
You had, of course, gotten increasingly more cuddly over the past several weeks of living with Wanda and Natasha. However, to no one’s surprise but your own, alcohol increased your clinginess tenfold. The feeling of vulnerability had made you seek out safety in all the ways you knew how.
Over the course of an hour, the conversation between the older women became background noise and you “subtly” made your way onto Wanda’s lap.
First, you sat on a cushion on the floor by her feet, laying your head on your knees while she ran her fingers through your hair. Then, you climbed up her legs and sat on her lap, pressing your ear to her chest and listening to the steady beat of her heart. She wrapped her arms loosely around your waist and gently rocked back and forth. Finally, you adjusted to straddle her lap, pressing your entire chest to hers and resting your head on her shoulder. Your limbs were limp on either side of her, and she could only tell you were awake by the occasional rustle and turn of your head. She ran her nails up your back, soothing you into a trance.
Pepper leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smirk. She crossed her legs, smugly gesturing towards you with her half full wine glass. She mouthed “mama’s girl”, earning her a snap and sharp glare from Wanda.
As the hour grew later, Maria regarded you with a small chuckle. “Wanda, it looks like your girl is ready for bed.”
Natasha set down her drink and stood up, gesturing for Wanda to let her take you. Wanda gently guided you upright, allowing Natasha to lift your limp body out of her lap. She was pretty certain you were asleep by now. You only grumbled as Natasha rested your head on her shoulder, cradling you to her chest under your butt.
She carried you to the elevator, then up to one of the Stark towers' many spare bedrooms. She laid you gently against the pillows, tucking you under the soft comforter. You hummed with delight. Before Natasha could leave the room, she heard your sleepy, slurred voice call out to her.
“Tasha?”
She stopped in her tracks and turned around, sitting beside you on the bed. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Am I Wanda’s girl?” you slurred.
Natasha furrowed her brow and chuckled. “What?”
“Downstairs just now. Maria called me Wanda’s girl. Am I Wanda’s girl?”
“Do you want to be Wanda’s girl?” Natasha asked, tucking your hair behind your ears and praying you wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.
You furrowed your brow, trying very hard to form a coherent thought. “Can I be Tasha’s girl too?”
Natasha smiled. “You can be Tasha’s girl too, if you want.”
You nodded clumsily. “Yeah. That’s what I want,” you mumbled, satisfied. “Wanda and Tasha’s girl.” You rubbed your cheek against the pillows sleepily.
Natasha chuckled. “That’s what I want too, princess.” She leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “Goodnight, love.”
“Goodnight, Tasha. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Natasha said before she turned out the light and closed the door, silently heading back downstairs.
#a room of your own#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#wandanat x y/n#wandanat x you#wandanat x reader#wandanat#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha x you#natasha romanoff x you#wanda x natasha#natasha x wanda#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha#natasha romanoff
438 notes
·
View notes
Text
actually, it’s captain.
Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader
summary: request for @kpopgirlbtssvt. rooster’s girl is hit on by Top Gun students.
t/w: touch her, you d i e trope. cursing. mentions of alcohol.
Rooster leans against the bar, laughing at something Penny tells him. His jeans hang low on his hips, and he’s wearing the Hawaiian shirt you bought him for his birthday.
Rooster’s hand slaps the bar as he continues to howl. Penny and Mav exchange a look. Maverick murmurs something to Penny. Your guess would be “it wasn’t that funny.”
You throw back the rest of your drink. As your glass returns to the table, a group of men circle you, all clad in khaki. Must be new Top Gun recruits.
“What’s a pretty little gal like you sittin’ here alone for?” one of them asks you, his accent very similar to Hangman’s.
“Mind if we join ya?” the second asks. Before you can reply, two of the slide in across from you, while the one who spoke first sits next to you. His burly arm comes up around your shoulder. You stiffen under him, feeling small.
And not in the way you feel with Rooster. He makes you feel small, protected, but also empowered. This guy has a hold on you like he’s claiming you. Telling every other guy in the bar he plans on taking you home.
“This here’s Crane and Sorry,” he points to the two in front of you. “And you can call me Pleasure. As in, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As in, the way all ladies feel after a night with me.” He winks. He actually winks.
Your brain is so shocked, you can’t form words. You should take this guy’s arm and bend it behind your back, the way your dad taught you. You should give him on of your grade-a verbal lashings.
But you don’t. The sheer audacity of this man has you frozen.
You try to make eye contact with Rooster, but Pleasure’s frame blocks your view.
“Get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster’s voice makes a relieved breath come from your mouth. His tone of voice would make anyone run for the hills, but it leaves you full of wanting.
Pleasure chuckles, meeting Rooster’s gaze. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant.”
Crane and Sorry exchange an amused look. Rooster’s face is set in a hard line. He reaches for Pleasure’s bicep, ripping him from the booth.
“I said to get your hands off my girlfriend, asshole.” Rooster is a whole head taller than the aviator that just had himself draped on you.
“Shouldn’t leave your girl all alone, dick.” Pleasure tells him, bowing up. Rooster’s mouth pulls up on the left, giving him one of his infamous cocky smirks. Second only to Hangman’s.
“Actually, it’s Captain. And I hope to God you’re in one of my classes. Lieutenant.”
At this, you see Pleasure audibly gulp, knowing he’s fucked up. Rooster still has a death grip on his arm.
“Come on, man. Make my day,” the words come out laced with venom.
Before things can get out of hand, you hop out of the booth and high tail it to Penny. Quickly giving her a synopsis, she rings the bell, signaling these guys need to be thrown out. Hangman, Omaha, and Coyote each grab one of the guys and drag them to the exit.
Rooster joins you at the bar, taking your face in his hands. Those brown eyes roam over you, searching.
Your hands come up to cradle his face, “Roos, I’m fine.”
“When I saw him draped over you, I saw red. Nobody touches my girl.” He leans down to place a kiss against your temple. Rooster’s words have your toes curling in your shoes. You’ve never seen this side of him.
You lower your hands to his shoulders, threading one of them in his curly hair that’s definitely longer than Military regulation.
“You’re the only one I want touching me,” you murmur in his ear, your face flushing.
“Yeah?” he murmurs back.
Not trusting your voice to not come out completely needy, you nod.
“Come on, guys. Quit being disgusting,” Maverick says to the two of you, feigning gagging.
Penny pops his hand over the bar, eliciting a laugh from him.
Rooster ignores him, placing a deep kiss onto your mouth.
“Take me home, baby,” you say, taking in those brown eyes.
“I don’t know, pretty girl, I don’t think I can get further than the Bronco,” he winks.
masterlist.
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun maverick fic#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x y/n#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#rooster imagine#rooster x oc#rooster fanfic#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Best-friend König who pretends that he’s as annoyed as you are when your parents ask why you don’t just date someone like König as if he didn’t plant those thoughts in their heads and gave every reason to disapprove of any other guy you bring home.
Oh, for sure.
König knows best. He knows you better than you know yourself. He just wants the best for you, Liebling. The men you go out on dates with aren’t husband material, aren’t worthy of your time when you have someone like König standing in front of you. They can’t provide for you like König can.
He knows it’s selfish and cruel, but he’ll plant these horrifying thoughts in your parent’s heads about your new boyfriend. They won’t believe you when you begin denying it, arguing back and forth ‘til there’s tears streaming your cheeks, puzzled at where these thoughts are coming from.
And of course, you run off to König after an agonising hour long screaming match between your parents. You weep pitifully into his comforting arms, distraught and defeated, his t-shirt coated in your tears while you ramble on about the audacity of your parents and how could they possibly think like this. He wouldn’t dare utter a word - that would simply blow his cover, his attempts at winning you over. His left hand trails down your shuddering back, the sight of tears staining your cheeks tugging at his heartstrings and leaving him with a sense of regret and guilt at the sight before him. It’ll be worth it, he reassures himself.
He feeds these abhorrent and concerning lies to your parents with photoshopped and edited photos as evidence to back up his claims - that your boyfriend had these horrible dangerous habits, how he fears you’ll fall down the wrong path, that your boyfriend had been cheating on you, and through desperation, you took him back in.
You don’t think twice about how your parents question you for not dating someone like König - someone reliable, a provider, an intelligent man with an engineering degree, someone who could treat you right.
#orla speaks#cod x reader#könig call of duty#könig#konig x reader#call of duty modern warfare#könig x reader#cod mw2#könig cod#konig call of duty
911 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chin Up
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
.
When you first met Natasha, she had blue hair.
She was awkward, limbs growing faster than she knew what to do with. Still skinny enough to be drowned by a band t-shirt that needed the sleeves rolled up.
You were the new kid at school. You were even more awkward.
On your first day, you saw her sitting alone at lunch. The cafeteria was overwhelmingly busy, seats at every other table were being fought over. You tried to keep your chin up as you walked the length of Natasha’s otherwise empty table, sliding onto the stool across from her.
Natasha’s head snapped up from her book at your arrival. It was a beaten up paperback, spine folded back on itself.
‘Any good?’ You asked cheerfully, if a little desperately. Just one friend. That’s all you needed. The other children made wide berths around you in the corridors, as if you were more alien than stranger.
Natasha seemed frustrated by your inquiry. She closed her book quickly and stuffed it back in her bag. She stared down at her half eaten peanut butter sandwich, purposefully avoiding your nervous smile.
You didn’t know what you’d done wrong.
‘Sorry.’ You muttered, heat flaming your cheeks.
You started to bounce your leg anxiously under the table. You picked at your own sandwich. You weren’t hungry, but you didn’t want to look even weirder than you already were.
A lump caught in your throat as you looked across the rest of the cafeteria. You felt jealous of the easy banter between the other large groups of students. You wished that it could be you. That you could fit in, just this once.
‘Sometimes they steal my books.’ Natasha said unexpectedly. Her voice was carefully even. She tightened her loose grip on the strap of her backpack.
You glanced back out at the sea of students. Their playful banter had a mocking edge to it that you hadn’t noticed before.
‘That sucks.’ You answered fiercely.
Natasha rolled her eyes casually, taking another bite of her sandwich and retrieving her book again. You took a deep breath, settled by her returned nonchalance.
You felt hungrier and refocused on your lunch. As you ate, you zeroed in on a group of girls across the room. They were laughing as they ripped pages slowly from another beaten up book. Your mouth opened in shock.
‘They’re the worst.’ Natasha spoke up again, casually following your gaze. Her tone was dismissive.
You didn’t speak. You stared at your fingers as they twisted together atop the laminate table. Anxiety rolled through you.
So far, none of these kids seemed to like you. You weren't even sure that you wanted them to. The next few years of education stretched before you ominously.
Suddenly, you felt a plastic wrapper graze your forearm. You startled and looked up. Natasha pushed the chocolate bar across the table with her fingertips.
‘My mom always packs two.’ She informed you with a shy shrug.
One of the kids at this school liked you.
You smiled again.
‘I like your blue hair.’ You blurted as you took the chocolate bar.
Natasha’s cheeks tinged pink. You caught the way she lifted her chin up when she next met your eyes.
‘Thanks.’ She mumbled, awkwardly offering out her hand to shake. ‘My name’s Natasha.’
.
Natasha was your first friend. For a long time, she was your only one.
Then, one day she was no one at all.
.
You didn’t see her again until 2012.
.
When your best friend had first gone missing, the stories that swarmed the neighbourhood were unbelievable.
There had been no warning from the family. No phone number, no forwarding address.
The first rumour was that loan sharks were after Natasha’s Dad.
Then, men in suits came knocking on the neighbours’ doors. The rumours shifted to something more criminal; money laundering, fraud.
Bullies at school laughed at you. The joke was that you’d somehow scared off the second weirdest kid in school. You grieved Natasha’s disappearance alone.
You sat through classes silently, dreaming up a hundred reasons to justify why Natasha might leave you behind in a place like this.
Nothing could have been more far-fetched than the truth.
A super spy.
You were watching the live news broadcast when New York was attacked. Everyone was.
You stared at raw footage of an alien race invading the planet. Nothing could be more shocking, you thought. And then, you saw the Avengers.
Natasha did not look the same.
No more awkward and gangly; no more blue hair.
It was the familiar tilt of her chin as she stared up at a passing spacecraft that jolted your memory.
You knelt in front of your TV, trying to get closer to the impossible picture.
Two days later, the city officials held a large press conference. It was hosted on the first floor of the new Stark Tower. Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were in attendance.
Tony Stark called her ‘Red’ off-handedly.
That’s what gave you the idea.
There was nothing else you could think to do anyway. Natasha Romanoff had the shortest Wikipedia entry you’d ever seen.
You addressed a letter to Stark Tower in the hopes it might reach her. It was beyond a long shot, but you had to try.
It was hard to explain the national feeling of adrenaline that lingered after the attack. It almost seemed like sure fate that Natasha would reply. Aliens were real and Earth had won. Impossible odds were being beaten all the time.
It was not that easy. It took six months for you to hear a response.
Your phone buzzed in the middle of the night with a text.
Despite the late hour, the message was carefully constructed.
You used to be able to read Natasha’s nervousness a mile off. When her Dad called her home early. When the teacher called her out for exceptional work in class. When you asked her favourite Christmas present and she stumbled over the answer.
‘Thanks for reaching out.’ She began, formal with her friendliness. ‘I do remember you and I appreciated your letter. We should catch up soon.’
The text sounded distant, but you felt certain that she wouldn't have sent it if she hadn’t wanted a response.
You tried to picture the woman that you’d seen on television, but all you could think of was the blue haired girl.
Despite everything that had happened. Natasha was still Natasha.
You called her.
She answered after two rings. Vindication rippled over your skin, you were right.
‘Hi.’ Natasha breathed out.
Her voice rasped unfamiliarly.
Your heart twisted as you heard all the years that had passed.
Natasha Romanoff was an adult now.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’ You told her before you had time to think.
You heard her muted surprise in shallow breaths.
‘I missed you too.’ She murmured after a moment. There was a pang of emotion in her voice, you could feel it down the phone. ‘You were my best friend.’
Your stomach swooped strangely at her words.
You tried to play off the feeling. You sighed with mock dramatics.
‘Now you prefer the Hulk right?’ You teased.
‘Oh yes.’ Natasha hummed, picking up the easy pattern of your teenage conversations. ‘He’s much better company.’
You talked for twenty minutes, mixing nostalgia with light inquiries about her new life.
Before the call ended, Natasha invited you to visit her in New York.
It was an easy answer to give.
When you hung up the phone, you held it close to your chest for a moment. The room was beginning to grow light with the dawn outside.
.
Natasha was not an awkward teenager anymore.
She waited for you in the entrance of Stark Tower, dressed casually in leggings and a hoodie.
It was unnerving. She was almost familiar to you.
Your eyes met as you entered through the glass front doors.
Natasha hugged herself, playing with the grey fabric of her hoodie.
You remembered the nervous gesture. You wondered if she still had the habit, or if she’d just remembered it because of you.
You sensed her uncertainty as you got closer. You opened your arms for a hug and she looked grateful for the direction.
She fit perfectly.
Your eyes filled with tears as her arms tightened around you.
When Natasha pulled away, she gave you a confused look.
You shook your head, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
‘I always hoped you were okay.’ You mumbled, wiping your cheeks, embarrassed at how quickly you’d gotten emotional. ‘Fuck, I’m so glad you’re alive.’
Natasha’s eyes shuttered with a sudden blankness. She tried to shake it away too.
‘No-one’s ever said that to me before.’ She murmured under her breath, before leading you back to the Tower’s elevators.
You pondered her words during the silent elevator ride. Natasha’s life was clearly full of danger. She was on the front line of extra-terrestrial defence. She’d fought monsters on live tv.
You thought of the fake American Mom and Dad you’d been introduced to. You thought of the little sister, who had seemed so devoted to Natasha.
Now no one was waiting for Natasha to come home safe.
In the elevator you took her hand, squeezing it gently.
Natasha looked at you, eyes crinkling with simple happiness. She squeezed back.
‘Red hair suits you.’ You commented. ‘But, I preferred the blue.’
Natasha rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. The elevator doors opened.
.
The space was obviously built to be a common area, but it was empty now.
Natasha led you right through the middle of it.
You entered her room, following behind her. You stopped in the doorway, trying to take it in.
As a teenager, Natasha’s bedroom had been wall-to-wall with bright posters. In contrast, this room seemed almost clinically blank. A single piece of understated art hung on the far away wall. The bedspread was pristine white, like a hotel.
Your eyes clung to the only piece of personality in the room. A stack of CDs and a CD player lay on the hardwood floor, next to the largest window you’d ever seen. You recognised the top CD’s cover art immediately; Nevermind by Nirvana.
You looked at Natasha in surprise. It had been her favourite album when you’d last known her.
Natasha met your gaze readily. There was a glint of defiance in the tilt of her chin.
‘Oh, so you still have good taste.’ You grinned.
There was a pause. Natasha’s lip twitched with the start of a smile. Then, she hugged herself again.
‘I loved those songs.’ Natasha whispered, and her sudden fragility startled you. ‘It was the best time.’
Her eyes were careful, but you felt the emotion hiding in them. You moved forward again, hugging her instinctively.
‘The best time.’ You agreed quietly.
You spent the afternoon listening to the album, then another one, then another. The CDs were well played. Sometimes the disc would catch for a moment, but the song would always persevere.
You didn’t feel the need to talk.
Natasha sprawled out on her bed, head cupped in her hands as she faced you. You sat on the windowsill next to the music, leaning your head against the side and watching her in return.
You exchanged smiles back and forth. You exchanged memories of the songs with just a twitch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip.
Natasha’s finger tapped at the side of her jaw absentmindedly.
Eventually, time moved on. When one album finished playing, Natasha swung her legs over the side of her bed and stretched casually. You didn’t believe the nonchalance for a second, sure that such a smooth gesture must take forethought.
‘Dinner?’ She asked and you nodded with a smile, ready and terrified to meet her roommates.
Captain America offered you a bowl of pasta.
The weirdest day of your life only got weirder. The other Avengers were sitting around watching a large flat-screen television. Natasha picked her feet up as she stepped around their legs, heading to the furthest away sofa.
You followed behind her, muttering quiet hellos in answer to the openly curious stares of Iron Man, Hawkeye and Dr. Banner.
Natasha tucked her legs underneath her as she sat in the far corner of the sofa.
Automatically, you followed a habit that had been established years before. You threw yourself casually into the space directly next to her. Your fork snuck over to her bowl of pasta, stealing a piece. You tasted it and grinned.
‘Yours is always better.’ You complained, watching as Natasha stuck her tongue out in response.
You only remembered your audience when Tony Stark cleared his throat.
‘Did she tell you that she’s a ruthless assassin.’ He stated loudly, receiving a not-so-subtle elbow jab from Captain America.
‘What?’ Tony retorted, rubbing his side pointedly. ‘She’s never brought a date home before. And there must be a reason she’s called the Black Widow.’
You watched Natasha from the corner of your eye; the sudden embarrassment spilling over her face. The shame that lingered for a split second.
‘Not all names are literal.’ You answered bitingly, feeling an old defensive urge flaring. There had been enough bullies going after Natasha when you were at school. ‘We don’t call you Micro-Penis Man, do we?’
Hawkeye snorted with laughter, Dr. Banner’s lip twitched.
‘Clever.’ Tony drawled sarcastically.
You ignored him, turning back to Natasha instead. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your face. You didn’t know what she was looking for.
You sat in silence for the rest of your meal, watching the generic movie on screen instead of engaging in more awkward conversation. More than once though, you felt the curious stares of the others lingering on you.
.
As soon as you’d both finished eating, Natasha led you back to her room. This time, the air inside felt different. You caught the loosening of her shoulders, her subtle relief at returning to her own space. She threw her hoodie on top of her bedspread.
You glanced back around the room, realising abruptly that the minimal design wasn’t meant to feel clinical. It was more reminiscent of a spa.
You caught Natasha’s attention and gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Nice digs.’ You commented, raising your eyebrows.
Natasha laughed once, voice so much richer than you remembered. She ran her fingers through her hair. Your eyes caught on the muscles flexing in her bare arm.
‘It’ll do.’ She shrugged teasingly. ‘It’s nicer than Ohio.’
You sniffed dramatically. ‘Less alien attacks in Ohio.’
‘Just Russian infiltration.’ Natasha countered dryly. A tension shivered through you as she finally acknowledged the unspoken. The childhood friendship that had brought you here and the lie at the centre of it.
A burning sadness bubbled up inside you. You could taste it burning your throat. Your eyes pricked suddenly with tears.
Natasha stared at you with confusion and something akin to fear.
You moved toward her, watching as she resisted an urge to step further back. You took her hands in yours. You blinked and for a moment, her hair was blue.
‘I’m going to say this wrong.’ You explained ruefully, holding her wide eyed attention. Her palms were warm, soft and familiar.
‘I’m on your side.’ You promised clumsily. ‘Even if you decide to join the aliens. Even if you don’t want it. You didn’t stop being my best friend.’
You waited for an evaluating stare, a moment of hesitation.
Instead, you felt the soft push of Natasha’s head pressing against your shoulder. Her body moved flush against yours. Your arms slid around her back. You felt the curve of her spine beneath her clothes. The thud of her heart, hidden within a ribcage.
‘There’s a spare room ready.’ Natasha murmured at last, words muffled. ‘But maybe you can just stay in here.’
Natasha held her chin high as she took a step back, regarding you expectantly.
A wide smile broke out on your face.
‘A sleepover? On a school night?’ You teased, enjoying the way your acceptance brightened Natasha’s countenance too.
.
You changed into your pyjamas in Natasha’s ensuite bathroom. You brushed your teeth and stared at yourself for a few minutes in her large mirror.
You wondered how different you must look to her now. If she noticed all the traces of growing up laid out on your skin.
Natasha was beginning to feel eternal.
You left the bathroom and froze almost immediately in your tracks.
Natasha was standing beside her bed, putting on her pyjama top. It was halfway over her head and her bare back faced you.
You couldn’t stop your sharp intake of breath.
Scars littered her soft curves.
Harsh, deep welts that hurt to look at. Her skin was mottled in places, coated with different shades of injury. Some scars were older, but others seemed painfully new.
They criss-crossed into a brutal painting, brushstrokes feverishly ripped across her skin.
A sharp sense of outrage was already burning through you. A need to fix what had already been done.
Natasha had already pulled her top down calmly, turning to face you with steady resolve.
‘I’m not ashamed of them.’ She said with simple directness.
Natasha kept her chin up as you walked closer to her. You noticed the slight tremble in her jaw when you were inches from her. She held her arms still at her side and you wondered if she was resisting the urge to hug herself. Defensiveness rippled through her. A readiness to hold onto her dignity.
You had seen that stance many times before, in the high school cafeteria.
For the first time, you realised that Natasha did not remember you like you remembered her. She could not recall the simplicity of teenage drama and stupid crushes.
A lifetime of trauma sat between you. There was no before or after with Natasha. She’d had scars long before she’d had blue hair.
There were no words for your new understanding. Your chest squeezed with something like love or sadness.
‘I know.’ You answered her at last. You shrugged helplessly. ‘I just wish I’d been around.’
You touched Natasha’s face without thinking, a careful stroke along her cheek. Your fingers reached her hair and you touched a piece of it reverently. When you looked back to her face, Natasha’s eyes were closed.
Your kiss was feather light. Your lips barely brushed hers. The taste of her stained your mouth anyway. You felt yourself reorientate like a compass finding North.
Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her smile was shy. You still saw the fear lingering at the edge of everything. You chose not to mind it.
.
You slept in the same bed that night. Natasha held your arm lightly between her own.
Her even breaths lulled you with their gentle rhythm. Loose strands of her hair tickled your clavicle.
You stared at the ceiling and thought about intimacy. About love and friendship.
The lingering tattoo of Natasha on your lips was spreading through your veins now.
At 3am, an alarm sounded.
Sudden and pounding, it echoed from the ceiling. A droning tempo that had you scrambling to your feet.
Natasha grabbed your arm tiredly, halting your sleepy confusion
‘Avengers alarm.’ She informed you, her voice crisp and clear. You felt like you’d barely blinked before a dressed Natasha Romanoff was walking out the door.
All the words you wanted to say were still on your tongue.
.
Seven hours.
Seven hours spent pacing the common room. Watching an unhelpful news broadcast and hoping the building’s AI system might finally tell you something useful.
Seven hours imagining the worst. Seven hours praying for her to come home.
.
When the elevator doors opened at last, you were beside yourself.
‘Thank God.’ You muttered as you hurried forward, pulling Natasha into a tight hug. You breathed her in. ‘Thank God.’ You repeated, more for yourself than for her.
When you let her go, Natasha took a moment to look at you properly.
‘You waited.’ Natasha commented slowly, her gaze never wavering.
You nodded silently, a lump caught in your throat. You couldn’t understand her expression. You didn’t have time to think
Her hand touched your waist. With one finger she reached over, tilting your chin towards her.
She licked her lips, full of intention.
Her mouth pressed softly against yours.
You were a compass and she was North.
.
When you fell in love with Natasha, she had red hair.
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov x reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff#avengers imagine
619 notes
·
View notes
Text
S. Geto ★ Brother's Best Friend
Breaking the bed with your brother's best friend!
★ Requested by anon
★ Pairings : fem reader / badboy!Geto
★ Synopsis : even though he made a promise to your brother, Suguru Geto just couldn't keep his hands off of you.
★ Warnings : 18+ content, secret sex, brother's best friend trope, toys, visiting adult store, mutual m*sturbation, solo male m*sturbation, fantasies, creampie, pillow riding, sexting, wall/standing sex, mentions f*ngering, mentions bl*wjob, +++
Your brother always made sure that you and his best friend weren't alone together for too long. He totally restricted you and him from becoming friends, because he knew that neither of you two would be able to stay just friends.
Whenever Suguru had your company, he got flirtier. His mannerisms. His word choices. Compliments just spilled from his lips. He'd undress you with his eyes.
The chemistry between you two always made you squeeze your thighs together tightly.
Suguru Geto was a sorely attractive and alluring man. How could you not be turned on by him?
He had that slim-fit physique. Tattoos. A natural sultriness. That mysterious "he could be a cult leader for all I know" feeling about him.
He was also honest and spoke his mind.
"No offence," he said to you once, "But all the men you've dated are losers. All they've done is leave you with a broken heart."
You replied exactly how he'd hoped you'd reply; "I know. Do you know any better man?" you said suggestively, inching closer to him.
"I wish..." he huffed with a smile.
You pawed at his chest, "Suguru, my brother doesn't have to know about us..."
His heart beat rapidly and he felt his neck tense up.
Gently, he grabbed your hands and pried them off of his t-shirt.
"No, I made a promise to him that I wouldn't mess around with you. Okay?" he said determinedly.
Your funny little pout hurt him, because even though you tried to be comedic about his rejection he could still sense your deep sadness and desperation for him.
****
So many times during sleepovers, you had to get off on your pillow after hugging Suguru goodnight.
He was definitely being a bad boy, taking risks like hugging you when your brother was around. It earned a tense response from your brother, but Suguru quickly scurried off to the guest bedroom and acted like he did nothing.
Your bedroom was situated right next to the guest bedroom.
The walls were thin.
You could vaguely hear him grunting and throatily groaning as he pounded his fleshlight in the middle of the night.
He was most definitely being verbal on purpose, because in reality he was one of those silent type guys during sex. Suguru knew what he was doing. He always knew what he was doing, even when he wore those thin-fabric sweatpants that showed the outline of his huge cock snuggling against his muscular thigh. And all those times you "accidentally" walked in on him changing his shirt, he made his abs twitch and flex a little for you.
Suguru was always doing things in consideration of your horniness. He knew you had a hard time holding back, so he tested you — he tested your determination to not fuck your brother's best friend.
It was difficult to refrain from sneaking into the guest bedroom and hopping on his dick, it really was.
You rutted against the pillow and tweaked and pinched your nipples, chasing your pleasure.
The sound of slapping balls and lubed up thrusting carried through the wall as Suguru gave his fleshlight a heavy, sloppy pounding.
Suguru spiced things up and called out your name in a soft murmur, hoping you were listening.
"Mmm." you hummed back. He just barely heard it, but it made him grin naughtily.
He stopped pounding away at his toy, and drew his forearm across his forehead to wipe his sweat. He pulled out his phone and texted you.
📨 1 NEW
Suguru: i heard that. someone's wide awake 👀 You: yeah :( ur fault!! Suguru: my fault? how? 😗 You: u hugged me too tight earlier n got me worked up Suguru: haha just hugging got you horny? that's adorable You: stfu i didn't say i'm horny 🤬 Suguru: yeah right. bet you're humping ur hand listening to me rn lol You: nope Suguru: i don't believe u 🤨 u were totally listening. my fleshlight told me. it was pussy to pussy communication You: lol You: yeahh i was listening You: and squeezing my tits with both hands and riding my pillow 😇 Suguru: fuck Suguru: come over You: haha no way i'd wake up the neighborhood Suguru: dw i have ways to shut you up 😉
If your brother knew that at 1 AM that night, you snuck out and let Suguru finger you to your orgasm and gave him a blowjob, then he would have grilled both of you like meat on a barbeque.
But he never found out. Suguru held his moans in and gritted his teeth, and he covered your mouth with his big hand to stifle any noise coming out of you.
Suguru was turned on that he had this little secret with you.
Sleepovers became more anticipated. Your brother was confused sometimes, because while he liked having his best friend staying the night, Suguru was often over-enthusiastic at the idea.
"Oh I can stay the night?" it was the way his eyes lit up and his tone raised like he'd just gotten a hint about his Christmas present.
It always played out the same.
Suguru would be jerking off to you, thumbing through his favorited pictures — you know, those panty pictures and swimsuit ones that you wanted his verdict on. Well his verdict was groaning and throwing his head back and having a full-body orgasm.
If you were still awake, you'd whimper through the wall for him. He'd press himself against the cold wall and stroke his cock hard and fast until his balls bounced.
It became a thing.
Come the morning, the two of you would pretend nothing happened. But that knowing glint was always in his eyes.
****
In time, Suguru started drooling and obsessing over the idea of having sex with you. The tension between you and him had been reaching a peak.
Risky touches. Hot glances. Flirty tones. Sneaky sexting. Lingering hugs.
He took you out to the adult store under the pretense that he was just taking you shopping. Your brother let it slide, since you threw a fake temper tantrum about it until you got your way.
"You're such a spoiled princess." Suguru flirted when he pulled out of the driveway.
You giggled behind him, holding on tight as he rode off down the street, motorcycle rumbling loud.
He slung an arm around you in public and gave you kisses, thriving on the jealous looks that the two of you received from passers-by.
In the adult store, he agreed to buy you anything your heart wanted as long as you gave him proof that it was being put to good use.
Of course, he was buying you a toy that was as similar to his own cock as possible.
"And angel, don't get too attached to silicone. Nothing beats the real thing." he said.
"Oh yeah?" you batted your lashes at him.
When you batted your lashes like that, he snapped right there — the invisible restraints that kept him from breaking his promise to your brother broke.
He took you home, saw that your brother texted him will be home at 5-ish and then wasted no time before fucking your brains out right there up against the wall.
Once wasn't enough for either of you, so Suguru slipped his cock out and carried you to the bedroom.
****
"Su-su—Suguru! Not so hard! Y-you'll break the bed!" you said.
You were caged under Suguru's muscular body as he relentlessly pounded his cock into you, hitting deep spots that your newly bought toy surely wouldn't ever read — good. You'd crawl back to him for more.
"I don't care, let it break." he grunted into your ear.
He tried new angles until his cock pressured against your G-spot. You gasped and your moans quickly developed into stuttering incoherence.
"Fuck fuck fuck Suguru! Suuuguru! I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!" you screamed.
"Yeah? I'm close too, baby." he groaned. "Rub your clit faster, cum with me."
"W-we really shouldn't be doing this, mmm!" you moaned.
He smirked, "Yeah yeah, I know that turns you on more. Fucking slut. Cum with me and keep your pretty mouth shut about this."
Suguru brought you to a long orgasm. He groaned and his jaw went slack as he creampied his best friend's sister's pussy.
When he rolled off and caught his breath, he felt a small guilt but it was quickly smothered when you rolled back on top to kiss him hard.
"I think we broke the bed..." he chuckled.
"... oh. Shit." you giggled.
© arminsumi
I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.
This is fictional work.
#mdni#🔞.smut#smut#jjk#geto#geto suguru#jjk smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto x female reader#jjk geto#jujutsu geto#suguru x reader#jjk suguru#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen suguru#suguru geto#geto x you#geto x y/n#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x y/n#suguru geto smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Smokey And Sweet

✧ pairing: neighbor! lee jeno x fem! reader
✦ genre: smut
✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), mentions of food and eating, mentions of death (no actual people die/have died), smoking from jeno & reader (cigarette), cursing, teasing, car sex, semi-public sex (oops), missionary, big d!ck jeno, fingering, protected sex, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praising, pet names, some drool & spit, kissing, shy reader when it comes to godly men like lee jeno, slightly bad-boy jeno but more so his aura, reader & jeno are in their early 20s
✦ word count: 11.6k words (i literally couldn’t stop)
✧ synopsis: new boy next door takes an interest in you and decides to take you as a warm welcome into town.
゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+
Winter had said its goodbye weeks ago, and now, it has fully transitioned into Spring.
With Spring having sprung, the environment has come back to life and everything is blooming once again.
You can now enjoy hearing the sweet songs from the birds chirping proudly every day. You can savor the sunshine and natural light for much longer now due to the time being pushed forward an hour. And, the weather isn’t bitterly cold anymore so you could actually go outside having your skin exposed without your body tingling, stinging, and shivering.
Though, there were still downsides to Spring that you loathed— such as torrential downpours, freshly awoken wasps and bumblebees, and random sneezing fits from pollen. But on days like today where the air felt so fresh outside and you frankly had nothing better else to do, the outdoors called to you.
You desired to spend your leisure time this evening outside. Maybe you’d even decide to buy a treat from the ice cream truck that drove past your neighborhood almost daily now that the weather was warmer. You relish in just the thought of enjoying your first ice cream this season from the cute truck. You’d definitely buy one.
With the weather just right, you chose to wear a simple oversized t-shirt and your pair of frilly-ruffled, black and white polka dot shorts, along with your go-to comfortable footwear. Perfect for lounging out in the breezy and warm weather.
Deciding to sit on the tailgate of your dad’s pickup truck while you wait, you scroll mindlessly through your phone with your wallet by your side.
Although your face was trained on your phone instead of enjoying the outdoors peacefully, at least you were outside instead of cooped up in indoors.
In the midst of the sounds of nature, from wind blowing the trees to birds singing, you hear the sound of your neighbors’s door swing open. Though, you refrain yourself from allowing your eyes to follow the sound, trying to ignore their presence even though curiosity fills you.
This past week, a new family had moved into the house next to yours. It had been vacant and up for sale for awhile, as the previous owners decided to relocate elsewhere.
You’ve seen the movers and had your fair share of brief glimpses towards the house, but you tried your best to ignore and avoid them.
Although your whole life your neighbors have been unproblematic and greet your parents every-so-often, you weren’t someone who enjoyed small talk and acted ‘neighborly.’ You lived in your own bubble, and were too shy in even sparing a greeting to your neighbors.
That may seem a bit bitchy, but you just felt awkward and never really knew what to say. It felt easier just minding your own business.
You probably should work on your social skills. Maybe then you’d actually have something to do instead of sitting alone outside like a loser waiting for some ice cream— at your grown age.
With your attention directed towards your phone, you don’t notice that it is a boy that comes out of the door.
Said boy walks out of his house and lets out a deep sigh with both hands on his hips as he stands on his porch.
Honestly, Jeno didn’t really know how to feel about the move. His parents had decided to move out of the big city he’s known and loved his entire life, and ditch it for this unknown-small town he has to call home now.
While he’s in his early twenties and fully capable of living on his own as an adult, he just graduated college and rent was fucking expensive these days. For the time being, it was easier to move and live with his parents until he found a job and could start saving for his own place.
There was nothing wrong with adults living with their parents, anyways. There were upsides and downsides to it— as there were with practically anything. But it’s what will work for now.
It just sucks that he had to leave everything he’s ever known behind and start over. But life’s all about growing and new adventures— at least, that’s what the older adults say. He just has to learn to adapt to his new environment and embrace change.
He’s been unpacking boxes and organizing his new room all day. It was now around 6pm, and he’d been in the house all day doing labor and cleaning. After being stuck indoors all day, he figured it was time for a break to go for a short drive or maybe get food someplace.
As he stepped out his front door and stood on the porch, he looked towards his left and noticed your figure.
A girl, he thought. He hadn’t really gotten a chance to even notice any of his neighbors or surroundings fully, as he was too immersed in helping his parents settle into their new home and couldn’t keep his attention on anything outside of moving in.
From his porch he could see your figure swaying your head faintly from side to side, legs swinging back and forth in the air over the cracked concrete of your driveway. You were in your own world, phone in hand and sat by your lonesome self.
How cute, he thinks. He probably looks like a freak just staring at your form, but he glances around the street fleetingly and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is out right now. You don’t seem to notice his presence watching you— or at least, maybe you’re pretending you don’t.
You peak his interest suddenly. He wonders what you’re like and from this distance, he can see that you’re definitely an adult like him. Maybe you’re around his age. He could use a friend or at least, know someone in this foreign town.
He gives himself an internal pep-talk of confidence to walk up to you. You’d start seeing each other almost daily now that you’re neighbors, and he doesn’t think he can stay unacquainted with you. So he strides his way towards your house to introduce himself like a gentleman.
While engrossed in whatever nonsense you’re watching on your phone, you begin to detect movement from your peripheral, as well as hear shoes scraping against the concrete.
Your eyes slightly widen at that, sensing a complete stranger coming towards your direction. It wasn’t everyday someone decided to approach you suddenly. Your body stilled and you found strength to raise your head, locking eyes with what seems to be a handsome man.
He brings a hand up and waves, continuing walking up to you until he’s like only 6 feet away.
“Hey— sorry to bother you, but I came to introduce myself. I’m Jeno. I just moved in next door.” he shoots you a smile.
“Oh— hey! Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.” you awkwardly get up to stand on your feet and extend an arm out.
“I’m Y/n. Welcome to the neighborhood!” you put on your best smile as he takes your hand to shake it firmly, practically blacking out mentally as you cannot believe this is a real scene playing out.
You’re left utterly dumbfounded once you took a good gander at this guy.
There was a contrast to him. His skin was pretty much bright and his beauty could light up darkness and draw irresistible attention to him, but he was also kind of shadowy in a way. Although he greeted you with a smile that reached his eyes, he seemed to have this intimidating presence to him.
Maybe you’re just saying that because anyone who’s attractive to you intimidates the fuck out of you. But he seems to ooze natural confidence and appeal. His features were sharp, and he just had this indescribable aura to him that made you weak. You couldn’t pin point what it was.
It didn’t help that he was cool enough to rock an undercut, seeing it peeking through slightly from his right side of face. Not to mention, you couldn’t help but shift your eyes down for a second to look at his almost-exposed chest, first few buttons of his dark flannel left undone.
His dark eyes, dark hair, and dark shirt contrast with his light blue baggy jeans and kind smile, making your skin heat up from his presence, even in the midst of a breeze passing through.
But anyways— your new neighbor is a hot man that decided to come over and greet you. If that’s not a moment in history, then you don’t know what is.
The smile on his face doesn’t falter one bit as you greet him back, feeling your smaller, slightly wobbly hand shaking his own, and sees the slight tint of pink coloring your cheeks. Was it from the weather or his abrupt approach? He’s not sure. And neither are you.
“Thanks. I— uh, actually noticed you were sitting out here alone. Figured I’d come introduce myself. Since I’m new to this town, I don’t know anyone.” he admits.
Your lips parted as you attentively listened to his every word, arms crossed. You let out a chuckle as he finishes, “To be honest with you, i’m not really familiar with anyone else in this neighborhood— and i’ve lived on this street my whole life.” you laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you look around at nothing in particular sheepishly.
Your words and quiet laugh only makes his smile bigger. “Yeah? Maybe I could be your first neighbor-friend.” Jeno smirks at you, his hands shifting around in the pockets of his jeans.
The dopamine releasing from your brain causes you to feel giddy and it feels like butterflies are fluttering inside your stomach from excitement and coyness. You’re gushing internally at the fact that God himself has sent you a cute neighbor— one who had the urge to come over and is showing interest in you.
You only know his name and your delusional-self is already mentally planning your future with him.
“I could definitely use a friend.” your smile is genuine as you tell him, showing courtesy to your new neighbor.
You see the smile reach to his eyes again, meeting your gaze before he looks down at his own feet while grinning, making you look away shyly.
God, you felt like a teenager again.
“Do you care if I sit out here with you? I don’t really have anything better to do.” Jeno speaks. He really wants to get to know you and waste no time. You seem very sweet, and like he said, he actually doesn’t have anything better to do. (He still had some unpacking left to do unfortunately, but he needed a damn break.)
You can feel your heart rate increase and a flash of heat hits you at his words, feeling flustered that your peaceful evening has unexpectedly taken a turn.
“Of course! I could use someone to keep me company.” you say, still feeling flushed.
You pushed your rear back onto the truck’s tailgate and Jeno follows suit. He takes a seat next to you, making you hold back a giggle at how the truck lowered for a moment due to the extra weight now added.
“So… you were just out here chilling alone?” he queries with both arms outstretched behind him, leaning back a bit and making himself comfortable.
“I actually came out ‘cause I wanted some ice cream. Now that it’s warmer out again, a truck usually passes by everyday.” you begin to swing your legs like you were earlier as you continued. “I’m grown as hell waiting for the ice cream man by myself. Can you believe that?” you laugh.
Jeno finds your demeanor endearing. How you’re just out here innocently waiting for some ice cream. And the way that you seem like a ball of sunshine. You’re unintentionally stirring his emotions with sudden fondness and attraction towards you.
“Hey, that’s cute. And, now you have company to wait alongside you.” he states, his eyes stuck on you as he spoke.
Your cheeks must’ve been permanently stained pink since he’s made himself known. His natural charm and solely being in the presence of an attractive male has your palms sweaty and senses tingling.
“So why’d you move here?” you attempt to make conversation, trying to push pass the fact that he basically called you cute and is sitting directly next to you.
He inhales some air and huffs it out deeply before speaking. “Parents wanted to settle in a smaller town now that they’re getting older. We lived in the city my whole life, but my parents wanted a change. Plus, my dad runs an auto repair shop, and he had the grand idea of extending his business here, so… yeah.”
“I just graduated college a while ago, too. You’d think that I would have my own place and not be packed up alongside my parents, but i’m trying to figure out what I wanna do. Rent’s too expensive in the city, anyways. I have friends I could’ve moved in with to split rent, but since we all graduated, we all are doing our own things and they have their partners and stuff.” he continued.
“S’ry for rambling. I’m just dumping all this shit on you.” Jeno shakes his head, scoffing at his own rant. The last thing he wants is for you to think he’s looking for pity and seem lame.
“Nooo— it’s okay. I asked you a question and you answered it. Sounds like there’s so much change in your life recently. It would only be natural to feel sour or uncertain about your current life. I know it’s probably not ideal, but I hope you adjust well here.” you offer him an empathetic smile, trying to assure him that his feelings are valid.
Jeno looks at you, intrigued and taken aback by your words. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with something that suddenly made his heart stir.
He isn’t one to get sappy or ever seeks for people to comfort him. He wasn’t even asking for sympathy. You were just kind enough to offer him some touching and uplifting words.
The ends of his lips curl at your tenderness. “Wow… do you always say such nice things to people you barely know?” he decides to tease you.
Your face grows hot, laughing nervously as you speak, “What? I’m just telling you what I think.” you pause for a couple seconds before continuing, “Moving can be mentally and physically taxing. Change is never easy. Especially as a young adult, we’re still trying to figure everything out. So I feel for you.”
“There you go again.” Jeno can’t help but smirk, eyes falling to his own lap, hands clasped together.
“You majored in psychology or something? Your words are naturally comforting.” he chuckles.
You scoff at that. “I’m actually in community college— and undecided.”
He hums at your response, finally learning something about you.
“Well, i’m sure you’d be good in any career field. You sound very mature.”
You pursed your lips to the side, feeling flustered at all these small compliments he’s throwing your way. He’s probably just being nice, but he’s probably thinking the same about yourself towards him. Though, you were a very compassionate person. Your words were earnest.
And his own words carried much weight to your brain, especially because it was coming from a man. A very attractive one, at that.
“I dunno, I was just being real.” you brushed his comment off.
“Nah, you’re definitely a smart girl. Come on now.” Jeno tilts his head at you, staring at you attentively.
He’s wondering what goes on in that pretty little head of yours. He has the urge to figure you out. Jeno isn’t stupid and realizes the effect he has on girls merely from his looks. Call him cocky or whatever, but it’s not a secret that girls easily gravitate towards him.
Though, you’re currently bringing him a different vibe. He’s already gathered that you’re sweeter than a Pop-Tart. And a bit bashful.
Girls are usually so quick to be flirty towards him. Not that he doesn’t like that— he actually loves when girls are bold and quick to get things swinging. But you’re offering him something new, even within the couple of minutes you’ve known each other. He’s definitely interested in you.
You can sense his pair of eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Your vision lies straight ahead, trying to remain composed after hearing him compliment you as you stare at the house across from yours. How is this man still talking to your ass? You wondered.
You can’t even come up with a response before your ears pick up on that familiar tune of the ice cream truck, sounding closer and closer every second.
“It’s coming,” you lift yourself off the tailgate, wallet in hand as you approach the end of your driveway towards the road.
Jeno follows your lead and trails behind you, joining you as the truck comes to a halt in seeing you both.
He watches as you greet the driver and look over the menu momentarily, eventually deciding on a regular-sized Italian ice— flavor of your choice.
You then turn to look at Jeno, smile taking over your features charmingly.
“Do you want anything?” you ask him.
Jeno secretly does have a big sweet tooth, so he refuses to pass up on a treat of his own. “Yeah, i’ll have the same as her.” he announces and smiles at the worker.
You fiddle with your wallet, scrambling to fish out a couple dollars while your treats are being prepared. Though, it seems like you’re beat to covering for the both of you, eyes looking up to the sight of Jeno handing the worker some cash.
“I got it.” he says like nothing to you, happily paying the man in the truck.
You’re left confounded, not expecting him to even have his wallet on him.
Your mouth is slightly parted at his sudden act, ponderously putting your money back in your wallet. You can’t even protest as the transaction was already made.
Jeno hands you your treat with a spoon and grabs his own, both of you thanking the driver and walking back to your dad’s tailgate as the ice cream truck drives away, music now growing distant.
“I was gonna pay for us, y’know?” you say as you sit back down, Jeno doing the same.
“It was only a couple bucks. Plus, i’d never let a girl pay.”
You look down at your Italian ice in hand, poking at it with your spoon in other hand.
“Yeah, but we just met. You’re the new neighbor, shouldn’t I be the one treating you?”
“Your company is more than enough.” he simply replies before bringing his spoon to his mouth, head turned in your direction.
His words make your heart begin to thud erratically in your chest, heat rising all-throughout your body, and you’re left tongue-tied.
You’re still twiddling with your semi-frozen treat, mind and body fuzzy. You’re focused on his comment, the fact that he paid, and the innocent moment of you two enjoying ice cream next to each other here— outside your house.
You feel like you’re squirming on the inside, not knowing what to do with Jeno’s kind presence. He’s your neighbor now. How are you supposed to live now that you have an incredibly beautiful and charming man living next door to you?
“You like playing with your food before you eat?”
“Huh? Oh— my bad.” Jeno rips you away from your ruffled thoughts about him, now feeling embarrassed at how your head is already spinning and going dumb from someone you just met.
A nervous chuckle leaves your throat, finally digging for your first bite while Jeno was on his nth spoonful. You pop the spoon filled with ice cream into your mouth, tastebuds absorbing the deliciously creamy and smooth consistency.
“How is it?” he asks, eyeing you as you enjoy your first taste.
“It’s so sweet. Really good.”
“Definitely.” Jeno says, nodding his head in agreement. Though, he’s not sure if he’s referring to the ice cream or you.
You guys finished up your treats and talked about various topics, slowly getting to know each other better. You even started to loosen up a bit more, feeling just a tiny bit more comfortable the more you two conversed.
“You know, I’m a real huge car guy.”
“Really? I’m honestly not surprised.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it seems like every guy these days is a ‘car guy.’” you sneered.
He scoffs after listening to you. “Well, since my dad’s a mechanic, he’s taught me almost everything I need to know about cars. It’s practically in my veins.”
“Trust me, I am practically infatuated with cars. I used to dream of becoming a F1 driver.” he clicks his tongue.
“Woah, what?! So with cars, do you like the mechanics of it all, or do you really just like showing off how fast you can go?” you cock your head at him, asking curiously with a hint of tease in saying the latter.
“Both. I like working hands-on with cars and having the knowledge to perform car maintenance. It also feels personal cause’ since my dad’s a mechanic, he passed down his love for cars to me.”
“I also love the control I can have while driving. It can be exhilarating when you’re going hella fast. Especially when your car’s all nicely polished and sleek— it’s the best.”
“Damn. You really are passionate, huh? That’s actually really dope.”
“I am.” he smirks, amused that you’re interested in hearing about his interests. Like, you actually are having a conversation with him and are seriously listening to him.
Meanwhile, it’s such a breath of fresh air for you to listen to him speak about his passions and have personality to him. He wasn’t dry or giving you half-assed anything— and he was respectful, making you swoon and happy to have met someone like him.
The sun was beginning to set as you two got loss in conversation, the sky painted in a warm hue.
“Let me go throw these away.” you gather your now-empty foam cups and plastic spoons, grabbing them and getting up to throw them in your trash bin.
“Thanks.” Jeno gets up shortly after you do, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I should be the one thanking you— for the ice cream.” you now stand in front of him, arms crossed behind your back with a hand resting over your wrist.
“It was only a couple of bucks, no biggie like I said.” he assures you.
You smile, the apples of your cheeks more prominent as you can’t hold back in how wide it becomes due to his kindness. You stand meekly, figuring that this is the part where you bid one another goodbye and go inside your separate homes.
Although he literally lives next to you and you’d be seeing him frequently, you don’t want your time together to end just yet. He’s pulling you in like a magnet. You’ve felt lonely lately, and Jeno’s company was the best unexpected gift you could ever ask for.
And it seems like he’s thinking the same.
“Hey— I was thinking now would be a perfect time to drive around for a bit. I’ve been stuck at home all day and could go out for a bit. Would you like to come with?”
Your brows lift slightly, caught off guard by his invite. You didn’t expect to spend your evening with a man outside your house, and now, said man is asking you out for a drive.
“Only if you want to, of course. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to or—“
“No!— let’s do it.” you interrupt him, rather eagerly. You stare at him with a twinkle inside your eyes, mirroring Jeno’s own, eyes dreamy as he looks at your figure.
You might be some trouble for him, and you’re definitely feeling the same about him. The magnetism between you two is strong. Each of you look at one another in admiration and thoughts about anything else are practically nonexistent. It was purely curious attraction. Like a moth to a flame.
You’re honestly not sure if it’s the smartest idea to be getting in a vehicle with a guy you haven’t even known for 24 hours. You know your parents would literally be up your ass if they knew, and the anxious side of you is lowkey freaking out internally, already playing out multiple scenarios.
But you oddly trust Jeno. He seems to find solace in your presence. You each agreed that you were friends now. You hardly got out of the house anyways— you definitely needed this. And you’re an adult, so who cares?
“Alirghty then, are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, i’m good to go.”
With that, Jeno leads the way into his new property. His left hand digs into his left pocket and pulls out a pair of keys, walking to the driver’s side of what seems to be his car.
The sight of his car definitely confirms that he’s a serious car guy. You’re not too familiar yourself on the technical terms or remember model names, but his car is black, windows were tinted, and it’s glossy. It looked almost brand new, smooth and sexy— dare you say. It suits him well.
He unlocks his car and lets you know you’re able to get in, and so you open the passenger door and seat yourself inside.
A subtle musky fragrance fills your nostrils immediately as you settle in. The interior of his car smells clean and fresh, mellow undertones within the scent. Not strong, but pleasant and fitting.
Jeno also settles in his vehicle, starting up the engine as you each put on your seatbelts.
“Don’t worry. I know I said I like going fast, but I follow the law. It’ll be a nice drive.” Jeno suddenly says, looking over his shoulder as his right hand takes hold of the gear shift. He puts the car in reverse, using his left hand to steer the wheel.
You sit idly as he cranes his neck slightly to look behind, making sure the street is clear as he makes exit from his driveway. He smoothly reverses, and begins to drive down the street.
Your hands are folded in your lap, and you begin to play with them out of suspense from what is to come during this drive with Jeno.
You’re fortunate that your parents are out of town right now, so they don’t really have to question your whereabouts.
Though, you’re thinking about how you’re alone in the car with a guy you just met. It had been so long since you hung out with a male like this. You couldn’t help but already feel some type of way towards Jeno. Your senses heightened within his presence. Maybe it’s because you still don’t really know too much about him, but you also think it’s because his attractiveness daunts you.
Perhaps you’re already developing a crush.
“Got anywhere in particular you wanna go? I don’t really mind; I’ll let you take the reins.” he halts his car at a stop sign, then turns to smile at you.
“Honestly, there’s really not much to do in this town. People usually go goof around the grocery stores for entertainment. That’s how dry it is here.” you tittered.
“Though, there’s a school a few blocks away from our street that I walk to occasionally when I want to clear my mind, and I usually just roam leisurely around there. Since it’s practically right next to a nice neighborhood, lots of people go on walks or bike rides around, and kids play after school hours.” you internally facepalm yourself once you finish talking. He probably is gonna think you’re so lame and that you clearly don’t go out much. A school? Really?
“We can go there. Sounds chill to me, if that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah! I’m good with that.” you’re relieved to see that he seems on board with your idea. He seemed to be pretty laidback and easygoing, leaving you feeling safe.
You direct him to the location, and he notices that there’s no music currently playing.
“Wanna connect your phone to play some music?”
“Oh no, that’s okay. You can play whatever.” you kindly smile.
“I listen to the same songs practically everyday. It’s getting old. How about you put on something, I could use something new.”
You feel a bit shy in sharing your music taste, but you see that he won’t take no for an answer. You give in and he helps you in connecting to the Bluetooth. A R&B playlist is what you settle for, as most of the songs in your curated playlist were comforting, catchy, and relaxing.
As the music’s going, you feel flushed and can’t reject the smile that creeps on your face as a favorite song of yours comes on. You notice from your peripheral Jeno nodding his head to the beat of the track, making you fix your attention to simply staring out the window to avoid him seeing how blushed and smiley you are.
After just a few minutes, he pulls into the school grounds, parking in the lot and you two unbuckle your seatbelts. There seems to be hardly anyone here. There’s maybe one or two cars parked, but nobody’s inside. There also aren’t any children on the playground or playing basketball like there normally would be. It seems a bit ghostly out.
With you two now sitting in the car in the practically-empty lot, you begin to wonder maybe this really was a dumb idea of yours.
I mean, what are you guys actually going to do?
With you two in this setting, wouldn’t people expect you two to be doing something shady or sketchy? Especially as the sky’s only growing somber by the minute.
“Do you care if I smoke a cig?” Jeno’s question interrupts your overthinking, making you turn, facing him.
“Go ahead.” you give him the green light to do so. It was his car after all.
Internally, you grimaced at now knowing the fact that he’s a smoker. You weren’t a fan of tobacco or nicotine, but if someone wanted to smoke, who were you to stop them?
Jeno rolls the window down halfway and reaches his hand into his door pocket, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the stick in between his mouth, allowing his lips to hold it as he brings the lighter to the end.
He flicks the lighter and the click hits your ears. Your eyes stay hooked on him once you hear it.
Jeno took a few quick breaths to ignite it, and it lit with ease. He sucked and held the smoke in his mouth for a moment, then removed the cigarette from his lips, letting the hot chemicals cool down before releasing a steady stream of smoke into the air towards his lowered window.
He immediately feels the buzz of pleasure from the nicotine rush to his brain. The warm air embraces his lungs like a comforting hug, allowing him to relax after a long day of unpacking.
Meanwhile, you weren’t in favor of cigarettes. You don’t understand the appeal in smoking something that in the end, is probably going to lead you closer to death by shortening your lifespan and bring trouble to your body. The aroma it left was harsh and acrid, and even eye-watering.
Though, even with how strongly you felt about smoking cigarettes, why was Jeno making it seem attractive?
Your attention is captivated on the erotic bittersweetness of the sight next to you. He made it seem so effortless, like it was second nature to him.
He seemed so carefree and rebellious in this moment. He obviously doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. The habit was hazardous, but the youthful, handsome man with strong features smoking in a dark car was glamorous in your perspective.
Jeno has to refrain from grinning as he notices your wonderment. He takes another drag before shooting you a question.
“Have you ever smoked before?”
“Not a cigarette, no.”
He suddenly moves his right hand with cigarette in hold in between you two, towards an empty tray you just now were made aware of. He taps the ash off the cigarette onto the ashtray, and to your surprise, gestures it towards you.
“Wanna try?” his voice husky.
Your mouth falls barely agape, caught off guard by his question.
You have to admit, even though you strayed away from cigarettes due to the long run danger they pose, you can’t help the burning curiosity fueling inside in trying it at least once.
Jeno made it look oddly satisfying, even in the midst of the now tarnished air and molten stench.
One puff wouldn’t kill you.
“Sure.” you reply, eyelids blinking at the stick in between his fingers.
Amusement is written all over Jeno’s face. He had a hunch before you even said anything that you’ve never smoked a cigarette before. You just seemed too sweet for that.
He found it mirthful that you want to try for yourself, and with him. There was something exciting in the fact that he’s about to watch you take your first ever drag. Knowing it was your first, there was a high chance you were going to be appalled by it. But it was going to be fun to watch, almost like he was corrupting your sweetness.
He brings the cigarette towards you and you carefully take it pinched between your thumb and forefinger.
The smoke envelops your nostrils, and you feel clammy all of a sudden with the cigarette in your hold and Jeno focused on you.
You were already overthinking the way you probably looked to him right now, so obviously amateur. And it was going to be humbling when you’re left coughing or can’t do it correctly.
Jeno can practically hear your worrisome thoughts turning, and is quick to kick them to the curb. “You don’t have to do it just because I am.”
“I actually want to try at least once in my life— for the plot, y’know?” you chuckled.
“Okay then. Just know I won’t tease you. Nobody’s first smoke is perfect.” he simply smiles, immediately bringing you support.
You don’t waste anymore time for the cigarette’s sake and wrap your lips around it, hollowing your cheeks as you take a shallow drag.
Your throat instantly feels irritated and on fire, feeling tight with the smoke you’ve just inhaled. All the toxic chemicals blaze your throat and lungs, leaving a bad taste to your mouth and it feels almost-suffocating.
A couple coughs rip from your throat, and you attempt to cover your mouth with your free hand and turn your form slightly towards the right, trying to shield yourself away Jeno from your embarrassing coughing fit.
You each let out a different curse word due to your actions, making the both of you laugh— of which, lowkey makes your throat feel even worse. Jeno quickly reaches over and removes the cigarette from your hold, dumping the ash on the tray and he keeps it between his fingers as he rummages around his car for a possible drink he may have lying around.
Luckily, he finds an unopened water bottle in his backseat. It unfortunately is room temperature and he doesn’t know how long it’s been in his car, but he doesn’t hesitate in opening it and offering it to you, which you gladly take.
“God! I fucking hated that.” you huff out after taking a few sips, now feeling calm. The ashy taste still was lingering in your mouth, making you slightly frown. The scent of the smog was definitely going to cling to your clothes— thankfully, your parents weren’t going to be home tonight to be greeted by it.
“Everyone’s first cigarette is terrible.” he chuckles before taking another drag, looking graceful and natural in doing so.
You can’t help the ping you feel in your heart from how you two now practically shared an indirect kiss, him choosing to continue smoking the cigarette instead of putting it out. You’re starting to feel hazy.
“I don’t think i’ll be smoking that ever again.” you scoff, taking another sip of water before reaching for and screwing the cap back on, placing it on one of his cup holders.
“That’s good, it doesn’t really suit you.” he says before enveloping his lips around the stick again.
Your eyes squint barely as you feel slightly offended from his comment. After blowing out the smoke, he notices your expression, and adds on to his words.
“You’re too sweet for that.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“You’re a pretty girl with frilly polka dot shorts who waits outside for ice cream and has a sweet nature. You just seem like you don’t do bad stuff like that.”
Warmth climbs from your neck up to your cheeks, not being able to maintain eye contact once ‘pretty girl’ rang in your ears. Pretty girl? Fuck, why would he say that.
“Duality exists. People can have multiple sides to them.” you voiced, trying to dismiss his comment from before off your mind.
Jeno nods his head in agreement, “Can’t argue with that.”
“Smoking isn’t good for you, though. You should stay away from it.” he utters, about to take another hit from his cigarette.
An incredulous expression takes over your face. “Well look who’s talking.” you teased, shaking your head slightly.
He pauses at your words, not being able to help the breathy laugh that escapes his throat.
“Indulging in cigarettes is like a hobby to me. It’s too late for me. I’m locked in for life.” he twirls the cigarette around his fingers, then brings it to his lips once again.
“So then should I stay away from you?” you mindlessly say, making you clutch the bottom frills of your shorts for comfort as you await for his response.
Jeno blows out smoke towards the window and turns to you, your fingers playing with the fabric of your shorts. He can’t help how cute you look in his passenger seat. You look so delicate, even in the dark interior of his car, even in the thick of the secondhand smoke air.
He’s torn between wanting to protect you and wanting to tamper with you. He could get a cavity just by looking at you. You were delightful and so new and sweet to him. You can be timid but you’ve been so open to embracing your new neighbor. You were a ball of sunshine, and he was the kind of guy parents hated just based off his looks alone.
Like you had said, there can be multiple sides to everyone. Just because someone seems to appear one way on the outside, or you base their personality off one side they’ve shown you, doesn’t define their entire persona.
Jeno really wants you two to get close together. Call him desperate, but he can already feel growing chemistry between you two. You barely met, but Jeno can’t help how he’s already so drawn to you.
And he intends to get to know every part of you.
Your fingers continue to fidget with your shorts, thighs pressed together, suddenly feeling small and hyper aware of your own existence within his presence.
“I kinda don’t want you too.”
“I already like you too much, think I could use someone like you in my life.”
Your nervous system is a whirlwind currently, the opposite of calm. Blood rushes to your head in hearing his response, ears becoming warm. A tight-lipped grin stretches across your face while averting your eyes from Jeno.
You can’t help the nervous giggle that comes out of you, unable to contain your emotions. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and it’s not just due to the smoke floating around.
Fuck. You don’t even know what to say to that.
He grins at your figure, his words clearly stirring something inside you. You avoid his gaze, pupils suddenly finding your lap more interesting and easier to look at than to meet his own eyes as you feel bashful.
Your fingers run along the goosebumps that now decorate the bit of exposed skin from your thighs, coy and still unable to think of a response. He makes you feel so silly and dumb, falling for his charisma.
Jeno’s eyes fall into your lap, following your small movements. You were visibly fidgety. He couldn’t help in wanting to reach over and place a hand protectively over your thigh. He then wonders what it would be like to hold your hand, or to tuck a stand of your hair behind your ear, or to kiss your lips.
He wants to act on instinct. The attraction and desire he has for you is too much for him to bear with you next to him in his car— in an empty parking lot.
He abruptly rolls up his window and reaches for the water bottle you drank out of from the cup holder, opening it and using a tiny bit of water to carefully add it to the ashtray, to stub his cigarette out properly.
You finally look up towards him because of his movements, watching and locking eyes once he’s finished.
“Y/n…” Jeno begins, head cocked slightly to the side, swallowing before continuing. “Is it too soon to ask if I can kiss you?” he practically whispers.
Your heartbeat feels like it pauses and sinks for a moment when you process his words.
Who would’ve guessed you’d be put in this position today?
Jeno’s eyes carry passion and intensity, awaiting for your permission or any answer. He’s craving for your attention, and he can’t deny the carnal desire within him to make each other feel good right now.
“I’d really love to kiss you.” he mumbles, eyes falling to your lips, head still tipped slightly, like a puppy concentrated on you.
The outside world and any miscellaneous thoughts are drowned out by the intention behind his eyes. The tense air and his admirable stare makes you feel a sense of vulnerability. Your own lips are trembling and heart flutters.
You’re lost from his eagerness and interest in you, caught off guard that he felt some attraction towards you while you’ve been trying to ignore how handsome this man was.
It’s been long since you’ve had any ounce of intimacy with another person. Loneliness has consumed you lately. With Jeno showing up in your life out of the blue, confessing that he wants to kiss you even from the little time you’ve known each other, it makes you feel validated and enchanted.
You peer down at the ashtray and center console, being a barrier between the two of you.
It would be slightly discomforting to kiss him over the compartment. But you really did want to kiss him.
Given the fact that you were parked in a parking lot during the late evening, you wondered in the back of your mind secretly of the possibility of him wanting to fuck you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be opposed to that idea in the slightest. A hot guy like Jeno wanting you was generating intense euphoria in your brain.
You were definitely nervous and timorous but fuck, you wanted him to feed your desires and take you heatedly.
“Would the backseat be more comfortable?” you finally manage to speak, viewing him with doe eyes. You knew what you were implying— a bold move for you but you now know that he wants it, too.
Patience never really was your thing.
Jeno’s lips curl upwards, sending you a knowing-look in response to your comment. He gestures with his head to the backseat, “You wanna?”
You merely swallow and nod your head, eventually letting out a faint ‘yes.’
Excitement charges him up in how fast things turned. He opens his own door first, with you following and opening yours a second after, making your way to the backseat on your respective sides.
Frisson is present within the pit of your stomach as you move to the back. Your body hairs are raised due to the tingling sensation rippling all throughout your skin.
You were excited but apprehensive. You were suddenly taking a leap into a new adventure, which was you about to get fucked by your new neighbor in the backseat— in a school parking lot. It was definitely indecent, but lust persisted.
Your pupils flickered around nervously as you each sat in the back, growing sweaty with every second that passes, wondering how this was going to play out.
Jeno takes note of your body language and immediately speaks up. “Are you okay with this? We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t comfortable.”
“I’m okay, just a bit awkward.” you sigh out with a slight laugh.
He smiles and looks down at the decent amount of empty space in between you two.
“C’mere.” he says, signaling towards his lap.
You take a breath as you slip out of your shoes and move closer to him. Jeno stretches his arms out, pulling your weight to seat you on his lap. Your legs wrap around his waist, and your body stills, in disbelief that you’ve found yourself in this foreign position.
Although patience wasn’t your thing, this situation was unfamiliar to you. About to get fucked by someone you barely met was crazy for you. You craved him, but you were also scared something was going to go wrong, whether it was from you or him.
Jeno’s left hand rests on the small of your back, drawing circles with his thumb over the fabric of your t-shirt. His other hand slowly reaches towards the apple of your cheek, rubbing it carefully with the pad of his thumb.
Your tummy flutters wildly from his small touches and the desire emanating from his eyes as he scans you.
“Relax for me, pretty.”
“Can you touch me, hm?”
You don’t verbally respond. You pupils go back and forth between his face and neck as you hook your arms around the thick skin. Your lips parted in being careful with your movements, still in disbelief of this current moment. He called you pretty again.
He smiles at the feeling of your arms around him, and lowers his thumb down your face until it reached your lips, playing with your bottom lip, eyes hooked to something so inviting.
Your own eyes seek his lips, watching the tip of his tongue slip out to give his own a lick, making you force to resist in shifting in his lap out of anticipation or letting out a whimper.
He’s the one to rip the tension by seizing a kiss from you. He gently pulls your face in, and as his lips meet yours, your only focus was on the heat that ignited within you.
The kiss was warm and smokey. It was intense with the way his lips moved jointly with yours.
While you didn’t care for nicotine, the taste of Jeno’s lips was a drug you could see yourself becoming addicted to.
As more seconds pass, the kissing becomes increasingly passionate. You’re practically melting, and it intensifies even more with his scintillating touches.
He protectively keeps a hand around your back, keeping you in place and subtly pushing you in closer towards him. HIs other hand holds your jaw, keeping your face slightly angled and steady.
You can’t help but rub down your clothed crotch against his own, surprising you when your movement draws a deep moan from Jeno, making you quietly gasp.
“Fuck.” he breathes out before he meshes his moist tongue into your hot mouth, making you produce a moan in feeling the wet muscle explore your sensitive erogenous zone.
Your eyes are clenched shut and fingers suddenly find themselves messily fiddling through Jeno’s locks, mind and body lost in the rush of how you’re locked by his lips.
There’s a growing hardness felt through the lightweight material of your shorts. It’s a signal that he wants more, each of your endorphins going nuts by merely making out.
He pulls away from your swollen lips, breathless, hushed gasps filling one another’s ears. Jeno then maneuvers a hand to cradle the back of your head, and brings his face towards your left ear, simultaneously beginning to play with the hem of your shirt.
“Let me take care of you.” his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.
His hands redirect to either side of your waist, feeling you up as he brings his face back and scans your face, awaiting for a verbal response.
“Please.” you whisper, warmth spreading across your skin.
“Please what?” he teases.
“Please undress me. Touch me— my body and pussy. Want you to.” you slip out, swallowing your pride. It was a bit embarrassing to say such things aloud in front of your new neighbor, but fuck it. He wanted you equally as bad.
Fully blushed and flushed out, your eyes fall down to stare blankly at his chest. Jeno is filled with amusement though, and hums in satisfaction at your words.
He smoothly reaches for your jaw and tilts it up so that you’re looking at him properly, bringing a buzz to your pussy from his dominance.
“You’re gonna be so good to me, sweet girl.” he says, caressing your face like you’re made of glass.
He brings you in for a couple more deep kisses, savoring how perfect your lips felt and tasted against his own.
He then confirms again with a nod if you’re okay to proceed further, to which you nod back, allowing him to remove your shirt. He also helps you shimmy out of those cutesy shorts of yours, tossing the clothes somewhere up front.
Although you still have your undergarments on and you agreed to do this, you feel so exposed and vulnerable now. Jeno was still fully clothed while he began to fiddle with your bra strap, which made this feel unfair.
“Let me take off your shirt.” you whined and batted your lashes at Jeno, causing him to halt his attempt in wanting to remove your bra next.
He can’t help but smile as you grab onto his flannel shirt, waiting for him to give you the signal to remove it. You were so fucking cute.
“My bad, pretty. I’m all yours.” he kissed your cheek before allowing you to do so, which made you burn inside with all kinds of sensual emotions.
He watched you in awe as you shakily started to undo all his buttons, entertained in seeing the curiosity behind your eyes of unveiling what lies beneath the fabric.
With his shirt now open, he fully removed it himself by pulling off the sleeves and threw it in the growing pile up front, leaving his entire torso bare.
Now uncovered, you can’t help the admiration beholding your eyes as you view his exposed skin.
It shouldn’t have been such a shocker that a handsome face like his had the perfect body to match: hard chest, sculpted abs, and lean waist that contrasted from his broad shoulders.
You really lucked out.
“Like what you see?” Jeno can’t help but snicker, aware that he had this effect on people. You just boosted his ego even more.
You can’t help but giggle at the cliche line, eyes timidly flying away from his torso. Unfortunately he doesn’t get a verbal response from you, but he knows how you feel inside.
“For the record… I definitely like what I see.” he traces the edges of your body, appreciating your skin and details.
Your eyes redirect to his face, watching him eye you hungrily, his fingers beginning to delicately feather over the lace detailing of your bra. Your breathing slows, air tense with you seated over him and his vision glued heartily on you.
His eyes find yours with his fingers still over your bra. You pump your chest out a bit, gesturing to him that you want things to proceed and to remove the rest of your garments.
He immediately leads his hands to your back, unhooking your lacy bra. Your mounds spill out as he removes it and tosses it to the side, the sight making his cock so pumped, full of blood.
“Beautiful girl.” he mumbles, then latches his mouth onto the underside of your ear, making you angle your face to give him better access.
The open-mouth kisses he leaves activates the nerves around your neck. It tickles for a second, but he hits that sweet spot of yours, making you melt.
You’d give into any demand of his with the way his warm lips suck and nibble over your delicate skin. You grind down into him, arms hooked around his neck, clutching for security or else you’d probably melt away.
Your sex only covered by thin panties rutting against his cock straining through his jeans has him groaning into your neck. He zealously continues to suck on your neck, adding gentle bites and hot licks in between, making you arch your neck to the front and moan out of pure bliss. You secretly hope he’d leave a mark or two, so you’d have a visual reminder of this heated night for a few days.
His kisses meander to your throat and chest, tongue sliding out to trace all around one of your areolas, lips then enfolding over the nipple.
Squeals of delight reign free from your throat at Jeno’s foreplay, continuing while he engulfs and sucks both your firm nipples.
“You sound so pretty for me, girly.” he rasps out, dragging his lips over your fleshy, supple breasts.
The nickname sends lightning straight to your core, making you whimper in neediness.
Jeno ends the fun with enjoying your tits to start the pleasure awaiting for him from your cunt.
His left hand holds you while his right hand travels down your tummy, until it reaches the bit of skin below your navel.
There’s a dark appetite visible in his orbs. He looks at you for any sign of uneasiness while his hand goes down. Your breath only hitches, pussy tingling with a quiet gasp from your mouth once his fingers rubbed down to your panty-covered cunt.
It’s so damp and warm down here, he thinks to himself.
“So horny, aren’t we now?”
The way he talks to you alone makes you ignite within.
He decides to pull your underwear to the side, his fingers now coming in full, bare contact with the outside of your pussy.
You’re practically holding your breath at this point, waiting for him to play with you, anticipating the feeling.
“Me too.” he utters, answering his own rhetorical question before he starts running his fingers slowly around your clit.
His touch on your swelling bud causes another hushed gasp to come from you. He’s beyond pleased by listening to all the noises your voice produces due to his sultry touches.
His finger tips slid over your clit and then inched down, feeling the outside of your sex and letting you grow accustomed to his touch.
He ends up sliding one finger up your hole, leaving your mouth ajar and body to quiver from him inserting it in.
Jeno’s tongue licks around his teeth while he fingers you, your walls so tight around his finger.
“Relax for me, hm?” he leans in to kiss you, easing your body to the feeling.
His lips continuously colliding with your own makes you lost for a moment, body fuzzy and loosened up until he decides to squeeze in another finger.
The jolt of pressure wrenched a moan out of you, making Jeno draw back to bite his lip and laugh quietly. It was such a turn on for him to listen and see the beautiful noises and faces you make— and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.
He was prepping your pussy for his own length, already salivating in thinking of you taking him whole.
His long, thick fingers curl into a ‘hook’ motion, causing your legs to shake in lust and a shiver runs inside your core that tingled.
“Mhmmm…” you mewled, starting to subconsciously grind and meet the movements of his fingers toying with your moist and velvety sex.
Watching your responses to his movements feels so good to Jeno. He can feel you start to clamp around his digits, making his own mouth open and turn into a smirk. His cock is painfully hard, begging to be free and feel that clamping sensation that his own fingers do. He really hates to rip you from nearing your climax, but he’d rather you both cum together, your body underneath his.
With that, he halts his movements and removes his fingers. A broken whine rips from your throat at the feeling of him leaving your needy cunt. You could practically cry. Desperation clouded over you.
Jeno quickly quiets you down with now inserting those sticky fingers of his inside your mouth, causing you to hum around his digits, eyes wide and then closed shut.
The fullness and heaviness from his fingers and your own essence weighing over your tongue has your pussy clenching over nothing. You eagerly suck your wetness from his fingers, not bothered that he was just in you. This was all so racy.
“Such a good girl for me— fuck.” he groans, watching you suck his fingers in, your teeth faintly raking over them, cock twitching at how dirty this sweet girl was.
“Gonna make you cum from my cock, don’t worry.”
He removes his fingers from your mouth, pulling you off his lap, motioning you to lay back down.
Your heart rate picks up as you carefully lie over his backseat. He traces the delicate curves of your hips and finds his way to the band of your underwear, you each sharing a nod of consent for him to remove them.
He tugs them down and off, tossing them and he gets you to pull your knees up, allowing more room for Jeno within this limited space.
He mentally whistles at the sight of your princess parts and the position you’re in, waiting for him to take you in the back of his car.
He doesn’t waste anymore time and hastily gets rid of his confining jeans and briefs, his cock immediately standing proudly once his underwear is pulled off.
The sight of his big and thick, towering manhood has your breath stuck in your throat.
While he moves and reaches over to dig for a condom in his glove compartment, your palms become sweaty in the thought of him squeezing his length inside you.
He looked absolutely delicious, but you weren’t sure if you could handle someone as big as him.
Jeno finds a condom, ripping the plastic open with his teeth and flings the wrapper out of sight. He stretches the rubber over his length, precum already leaking from his tip.
As he inches towards you, you can’t help but voice your concern.
“Will it fit? you shakily breathed.
Jeno can’t help but tilt his head, staring at you intently. His lips can’t help but curl, offering you a reassuring smile.
His lips suddenly find themselves over your knees, pressing a gentle kiss over both of them, making your heart pump with fondness.
“We will make it fit.”
“Let me know if it hurts, okay? Don’t want you in pain, pretty.”
“Okay.” is all you say, still sweaty, but ready for him to enter you, core aching to be touched again.
He massages the inside of your thighs with care, trying to ease you up some more. He grabs his length and rubs it along your folds— especially dragging the tip past your clit, making you moan at the sensation.
He finally takes it upon him to prudently push his cock into your entrance, his mouth open while he starts to stretch you out.
Your legs immediately hook around him and rest on his lower back, meanwhile your arms decide to cling onto his beefy biceps for support. You cry out a moan from the pressure.
“It’s okay, girly, I got you.”
“You’re safe with me. Gonna take care of you.” Jeno’s breath fans over your face before he captures your lips with his. His hips slowly begin to roll as you kissed him back with enthusiasm, a burst of adrenaline racing through your bloodstream.
Your walls practically swallowed him, cock fitting so snug inside you. His left hand brushed into your hair, running his fingers loosely around your locks, making you relax from his touch.
“God! You— you’re so big.” you blatantly puffed out, starting to feel his thick cock brush past your walls.
“Yeah? You can take it, pretty— right?” the blood in Jeno’s body starts to boil due to the warmth encompassing his length, and from the sense of pride filling him from your reaction to his size.
He begins to start a steady pace with his hip movements, sliding his cock in and out— not all the way, but enough to stimulate your sensitive walls.
He falls into a natural pattern as your body accepts him well. Your vision darts upwards towards the roof of the car, beginning to lose yourself to his fat cock.
Though it quickly lowers again when his head dips into your right breast, tongue slipping out and starting to twist around your erect nipple.
A mewl jumps out of you, hands redirecting to his muscular back with your nails pressing tightly into his skin.
“C’mon, talk to me.” Jeno rasps, making brief eye contact with you for a second before he briskly attacks your entire right breast with his mouth. He ferociously makes out with your mound and marks you, painting you with reddish-purple splotches and leaving the flesh sheening in spit.
His hunger for attention and to get you both off is ardent. Every other thrust into you is rigid. He was pacing himself at first to start off, but now his rhythm increases to fuck you hard and his length travels into you deep. He has no intention in holding back his horniness.
Lack of words from you aside from the whimpers and moans has him moving a hand to touch and toy with your clit. His calloused fingers alternate between softly pinching and sliding his fingers in a back-and-forth motion along the puffy bud.
“Oh— God! Jeno!” the attentiveness he shows to your aching clit while ramming into you has you scream his name. It has you automatically canting your hips up to meet his thrusts into you.
Your reactions and hearing his name from your voice drives Jeno wild. Breathy grunts leave his mouth, hips continuing in chasing both of your highs.
The current setting and moment is electrifying. Fucking in the car in a school parking lot was obscene and limited compared to bed space, but it was still extremely mind-numbing and euphoric sex.
Your frame caged under Jeno’s ripped body is like a dream. You felt so helpless in this position, but couldn’t possibly wish for him to stop. It was so hot seeing and feeling his figure fuck you into oblivion.
Your body rocking over the leather car seats only amplifies your feeling of sensitivity and arousal. God, how amazing it felt for Jeno to be pleasing you in this way was. You can’t even imagine how good it would be to fuck in other ways— in other places, with him.
His relentless efforts has your mouth stuck open. The arousement increases the amount of saliva within your mouth. Surprise catches you when some of it seeps out the corner of your mouth.
Your tongue lolls out in attempt to catch the drool before it fully falls, failing miserably as it rapidly trickles down from the corner, to your chin. Quickly, you wipe it off messily and then place your hand back over his skin, but it’s obvious that Jeno sees what just happened, as he’s right over you— much to your embarrassment.
Though, his cock surges in amusement, and so does his other head. You were literally drooling over his cock. How fucking sexy was that? Wonder how’d you look on your knees giving him the messiest head. Oh how he hopes to have that thought come to life one day.
“Mhm. So hot— fucking my cute, pretty neighbor. You like that too, hm? You like the feeling of your big neighbor on top and inside of you?” he teases you, watching your pretty figure being ruined beautifully by him. His filthy words mix with his dirty, animalistic movements.
“Feels so full and good, Jeno!” you choke out. You’re blissed out, feeling like the band in your core may snap soon.
There you go saying his name again, making Jeno groan repeatedly in ecstasy, dragging his cock deep into you, his weighty sack occasionally slapping against your bottom.
“Yeah? So full of me, pretty.”
“Taking me so well, like a good girl.”
Heat swells in your cheeks from his comments and the hot temperature and pressure felt as he fucks you. As much as you savor it, it’s becoming too much. The finish line is coming close to being ripped apart.
The thrill in the pit of your stomach has it churning. His long, deep strokes, each of your various moans bouncing off the tinted windows, his gruffly voice, and his finger-work over your sensitive bud— it’s all captivating you to feel an abundance of dopamine rush.
A shiver in your core tingles consistently. You’re beginning to lose control. It’s like you’re stoned and can’t focus on anything aside from the intensity of that tingly pressure present within you.
“Gonna cum, Jeno.” your voice cracked while your muscles tightened.
“Fuck,” he hisses at the tight grip of your walls swallowing him from the tip to base.
Your eyes rolled back behind your trembling lashes, and he watches with a keen stare and relishes in your smutty sounds. It all only encourages him to keep persisting to reach the peak.
And then, you finally break.
Your fluid expels from your pussy, lubricating your walls and leaving you a whimpering, wet mess.
Jeno pushes through your spasming, feeling the warmth spreading in your heated cunt through his condom. His own muscles can’t resist in clenching hard. He pushed you over the edge and possessed your mind and body with euphoria.
It’s practically heaven. His balls tighten and eyebrows push together with hips starting to slow down as strings of cum begin to fill his condom. It’s so relieving that a few guttural moans come out from his throat.
His hot seed falling into the condom is so fulfilling, sack emptied. All this activity has left him sweaty all over and mouth dry. His chest continues to heave and he carefully pulls out of you.
You shake and shiver now that the tension is dying down, and your muscles try to relax after the satisfying orgasm.
Jeno is quick to remove his used condom and tie it, abandoning it in a random spot in the car. He’ll of course, clean his car later.
He reaches towards the front of the car to search for his shirt, and then edges back to you.
“Hey, you were amazing, sweet girl. Let me help you.” Jeno spoke softly to you while the back of his fingers stroke one of your shaky thighs.
He began to use his shirt as a rag for any wetness seeping out and around the outside of your cunt.
You couldn’t help but flush at the aftercare he shows you, even while in a car and not hesitating to sacrifice his shirt to wipe your spills. Seems like chivalry isn’t dead after all.
“Thank you.” you say to him when he’s finished.
He just smiles at you, eyes crinkling as he sticks out a hand for you to grab, and helps you sit up next to him.
Still both fully naked, you still feel flushed and exposed now that the sex was over. Your breasts hanging out and his cock lying limp over his thigh was too hard to ignore. Jeno notices, and quickly gathers your t-shirt for you and his briefs for him, making you thank him once again.
You don’t know what to say now and he doesn’t know what to do. It’s obvious now that you two have an attraction to one another. But, where do you two go from here? Will this be a one time thing? Or maybe a friends-with-benefits type of deal? Guess you didn’t need a label right away, you barely know him. But you know you needed more of him, in any way— sexual or not.
In the midst of each of your silence, Jeno decides to reach for your hand, clasping his fingers with your own under his. He gently squeezes your hand, causing your own legs to squeeze together, beginning to feel a sense of giddiness inside.
“What’s on your mind?” he asks, thumb beginning to soothe you as he drags it back and forth the side of your hand.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” the words leap out of you, making you cringe as soon as they come out.
Mortification washes over you. Why the fuck would you ask that? What are you even implying?
Your sudden question makes him chuckle and grin, especially now that you already fucked. You guys are just now having this conversation.
“No Y/n, I don’t. I’m one-hundred percent single.” he smirks at you, thumb still tracing your skin.
His answer is pleasing to your ears. You try not to show how obviously happy you are with that. A faint smile is all you allow yourself to show.
“You don’t have a boyfriend now, do you?” he tilts his head at you, eyes playful.
“I don’t.” you spoke softly.
Just like you, Jeno finds himself content with your answer.
“Good girl.”
゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+ ゚+..。*゚+
#ericscroptop#nct smut#nct imagines#nct dream smut#nct dream jeno#nct jeno#lee jeno#jeno smut#jeno x reader#lee jeno x reader#jeno imagines#lee jeno smut#jeno fic#lee jeno fanfic#nct x reader#nct#kpop imagines#kpop smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ch6 the wrong john | masterlist | next
tw: idiots in love acting like idiots, reader is insecure i fear
john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin
--
Your cat likes John better than you and you can’t seem to care.
He coaxes her into the carrier with ease and you watch it like you’re not there, instead floating above your body. John’s hands rummage through your dressers, packing underwear and shirts and pants into the same suitcase you used when you visited base. There’s a joke in there somewhere but you can’t seem to find it, words turning to ash in your mouth. Johnny is missing, so there’s no reason to laugh. All you can do is stand in the corner, holding your cat’s carrier, watching a captain commandeer your apartment like it’s a mission. In five minutes, John has fit your necessities into two bags and has you out the door with a hand on your back.
“You didn’t tell me her name yet.” You blink and there’s a black car in front of you, John’s hand pushing you into the passenger seat while he puts your stuff in the back and gets into the driver's side. The cat is on your lap, somehow not throwing a fit at her new home.
“Bubbles.” He hums, gunning the engine and turning the car into the familiar path to the airport. “Bubbles?” You glance out of the window, noting the day is as dreary as you feel. “She has a mohawk. Like Jo- my brother. He’s Soap, so I thought Bubbles…” Your throat tightens. Johnny’s missing and you’re sitting here with your cat, making stupid puns he would love.
John squeezes your thigh and returns his hand to the wheel. The loss of it is a shot to the heart. Now, you’re a victim to him. Sadness is not sexy. It’s painful but you try not to think of it too much. Everything is falling apart anyway.
“We’ll find him, sweetheart. Can tell ya more on the plane.” Everything is in slow motion. Bubbles licks your fingers through the mesh of her carrier and you focus on it like your life depends on it.
“I’m supposed to work tomorrow.”
“Already called ‘em. Y’r on sabbatical.”
“My plants…”
“Left a note f’ y’r neighbors.”
“How can I pay rent if I’m not working?”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. ‘ve got ya.”
You nod and close your eyes, wishing everything away like a bad dream. When you wake, you’re on a small military plane. Bubbles is next to you, buckled in. You reach for your phone to take a picture for Johnny, to show him your military cat, but your hand drops when you remember. The heat of John’s stare burns the side of your face, and it takes a few seconds, but you finally gather enough courage to face him. The look in his eyes is haunting. You can’t tell, but John’s been replaying the moment he lost two of his men over and over since it happened. When he closes his eyes, it’s all he sees. Opening his eyes is worse, seeing you in pain and knowing he can’t do anything to immediately fix it.
“Was s’pposed t’ be an easy mission. They got the drop on us. Would’ve been so easy to take all four but they only took Soap an’ Ghost. Ghost’s only family is Soap so we think they’re goin’ to target you next. They’ve got a vendetta against y’r brother. Old wounds an’ all that. You’ll be on base where y’r protected.” He pauses for a second. It’s now dawning on him that you’ll be a few meters away, the fantasy he’s been wanting, but under the worst circumstances. “Questions, sweetheart?” Only one.
“Will you find him?”
“I will. Don’t care what I’ve got to do to do it.”
When you get to base, Kyle is there. He’s looking worse for the wear, a new scar decorating his eyebrow. “You look very chic, Kyle.” He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. “‘m sorry, angel. We’re gonna find him.” It’s the first time it’s really hit you. Maybe it’s the fact that this is only the second time you’ve met Kyle and he’s already treating you like family on account of your brother. Tears form in your eyes and he tugs you closer, rubbing your back as you cry. You remember you’re still out in the open, standing in front of countless guards, and start taking deep breaths to calm the tears. “It’s ok, let it out.” You nod against him, then pull back to wipe the tears away. Bubbles meows, desparate for attention, and Kyle’s ears perk up at the sound. “‘m goin’ to walk you to your quarters an’ you’re goin’ to tell me when you got a cat.” John’s already ahead of him, your bags in his hands, so you turn to Kyle and hand him the cat carrier. “So it all started with a dumpster…”
There aren’t spare quarters in the task force’s section of base, so you’re staying in Johnny’s. As if that wasn’t already terrible, you’re across the hall from John’s quarters. John’s disappeared, the bags he packed for you neatly set near Johnny’s bed. Kyle brings you to the room, already having bonded with Bubbles, and promises that someone will be by with dinner. Every second is precious to find your brother, so you can’t blame them both for having to leave.
Your idiot twin didn’t even make his bed before he left. You tidy his room, ignoring your shaking hands, then venture out with a bag of his laundry just to give you something to do. A kind lieutenant in the hallway directs you, and you can feel pitying eyes follow you to the laundry room. A civilian staying multiple nights on base is unheard of, but the rest of the soldiers there are used to the task force operating by their own rules. It seems some groups have left, the building feeling emptier and less lively since you last visited. Or maybe they’re just giving you space in this time of half-mourning, this purgatory of doubt. While you wait for Johnny’s clothes, you try to remember the path to John’s office. It takes you a few backtracks, but you finally make it back to where this all started. You raise your hand to knock, but a bit of eavesdropping reveals there’s at least five people in the room. Not wanting intrude, you go back to Johnny’s room and wait. Waiting seems to be the only thing you can do.
Hours later, after a tasteless dinner of mess hall food, you still can’t fall asleep. It’s past midnight and base is quiet. In your state of delirium, you drag yourself out of bed and outside your room, feet tracing an easy path to John’s room. It feels selfish, seeking him out when your twin is probably in some sort of hell, but you can’t prevent your hand from reaching his door. You knock twice, then curse yourself as the logical half of your brain wakes up and asks what the hell you’re doing. It’s too late to turn back. “Come in.”
John’s sitting at a small desk shuffling through papers. He’s got on blue light glasses you’ve never seen before, and the utter attractiveness of them stops your mouth from opening. He still hasn’t looked up yet, making small notes on the papers in front of him. “What is it?” Finally, John’s head tilts up, then straightens when he realizes it’s you. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-” “Don’t. ‘M sorry sweetheart, didn’t realize it was you.” You twist your hands together, feeling awkwardly uninvited. His space is hardly lived in, no personal effects to be found except a blue blanket on his bed.
“Somethin’ botherin’ you?” You nod, taking a step closer to his desk. “Couldn’t sleep.” He nods back, eyes shining with understanding. Rolling out his chair from under his desk, he spreads his legs in invitation. You answer it silently, shuffling towards him until you’re standing in between them. His actions are so at odds with how avoidant he was in the morning, but you’re too tired to care. Rough hands caress the outside of your upper thighs, then move up to your hips and waist. He rubs small circles, similar to how he did during your bathroom confrontation months earlier, and the motion already starts to calm you. John scoots closer to the edge of his chair until his face is flush to your clothed stomach. Instantly, you reach out to pull him in, hands sinking into the strands of his hair until you feel his glasses poke your stomach. His hands settle above your ass, never stopping their circular caresses. The angle is slightly awkward, a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, namely being this close to the man that haunts your dreams. The two of you stand in almost-silence, breaths syncing until you can’t tell where his start and yours end.
“Sleepwithme.” You pull back until your hands cradle his face, smoothing over the creases your shirt left on his skin. “What?” He releases his hold on you to take off his glasses, setting them down on his desk. “Sleep with me.” Your heart drops, hands leaving his face. The implication that you two only seek each other out for sex is clear, and you can’t even blame him since that’s how it started. He frowns at you. “I’m not really in the mood for sex, I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow or…” John shakes his head, standing from his desk chair. “I meant jus’ sleep, sweetheart. Can’t blame you f’ jumpin’ to conclusions, I know I’m irresistible.” You roll your eyes, shoving him away. John catches your arm and pulls you into him, tucking your head under his chin like you were made to fit together. You let him hold you, nuzzling into him like you did the first night you meant. “I take this as a yes?” You nod against him. John turns off the light and ushers you into his bed. It’s a bit small for two until he tugs you on top of him, chest to chest. Your legs tangle, your arms flaying about for a better position until he tucks them around his broad shoulders. You can feel his muscles contract with every breath, how his heart beats strong as you shuffle your head up and into the crook of his shoulder.
“Goodnight, John.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
When you wake in the morning, your core is throbbing, and not in a good way. Your period’s early, a symptom of how deranged your mental state has become, and it would be fine until you remember the man under you. The man who’s seen you naked but not like this, not vulnerable in a way you can’t control. Early morning sun peaks through his curtains, reminding you that you’ve only slept for a couple of hours. The light reveals a small stain of blood on your pajama shorts and John’s boxers, a bit on his chest since he slept shirtless. It’s your worst nightmare.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper-yell. John’s up and moving before you have the chance to take stock of the situation. Always a man with a plan, he peels you off of him, pushing you towards his ensuite bathroom. He murmurs sweet nothings you’re sure are empty platitudes, just him being nice.
“‘S okay, jus’ some blood, pet.”
“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”
“Take a shower, be there in a second.”
In the shower, you want to bang your head against the tiled wall. The shock of your period almost erases the memory of Johnny being missing until it comes back in full force, along with worser cramps. Tears stream down your face, washed away quickly by the shower. Everything is unfair, and your hormones join the party to make it worse. That’s where John finds you, wiping away the puffiness under your eyes as the water turns cold.
“None of that, pet.” There’s still blood on his chest and he notices the same time as you do, shucking off his boxers and joining you under the shower spray. It’s not sexy, the first time you shower with John. You feel stripped raw, maneuvering yourself into the corner so he can have the water. John’s having none of it, tugging you into his arms.
“John…” You murmur. Satisfied that you’re clean, he reaches around you to turn off the water. He’s so nonchalant that you’re both bare, that your body is bloated and sore in all the wrong ways.
“What?” He finally replies. Getting out first, he hands you a towel, then grabs another to wrap around his waist. There’s a pair of your underwear on the counter, clean, and you question how he got it without leaving his bedroom. It’s a mystery not worth your time. He hands you a container of pads and tampons.
“Where’d you get this?”
“My cabinet.”
“...Why do you have these?”
“Jus’ like to be considerate is all.”
His thoughtfulness collides with the fact that he has period products for any menstruating woman in his bedroom. Does this happen often? Do women’s bodies sense how safe and nuturing he is and just let loose?
“Jesus, why aren’t you someone’s boyfriend yet?” You mutter it, mainly to yourself, as you’re sticking a pad on your underwear. John’s head snaps up at you, eyes questioning. “What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ignore him in favor of putting on your underwear, stumbling with wet legs until John catches your shoulder. “That. This. All of this. The fucking period products. You’re like a walking template for husbands. How are you single?” Finally, you’re eye to eye with him, gripping your respective towels. His brow is furrowed, stubble slightly outgrown in a way you’re itching to feel. His eyes, normally blue like the ocean, are stormy. “Didn’t think I was single.” Um.
He walks out of the bathroom and you follow him to his closet where he’s digging for new boxers. “You have a girlfriend? How could you not…oh my god. I’m such an idiot. What, is she waiting for you at home somewhere?” Clothed in new boxers, he finally hits you with the force of his full glare. You almost step back under the cloud of his anger. “There is no girlfriend waiting at home. I thought you were waiting for me. Guess I miscalculated.” The weight of his words drags down your shoulders. You sit in his desk chair, mute as he gathers a clean set of fatigues. It’s only when he’s putting on his belt you finally find your voice.
“You thought we were dating?” He scoffs at your question. “Clearly, we’re not. Guess that one’s on me.” You fumble for something to say. “John, I told you, we can’t.” He shakes his head, and you note how he has to try twice to get his belt through his pant loops. “We can call and fuck and sleep, but we can’t date. Thanks for clearin’ that up, sweetheart.” He’s already lacing his boots and you’re still in his fucking towel, dripping water onto the floor. John approaches you and for a heartstopping second you think he’ll kiss you, but he just reaches around you to grab the paperwork on his desk. “Well, hope you feel better. I’ll be out workin’.” You nod silently, tracking his footsteps to the door. “John.” He stops with a hand on the doorknob. It’s the most vulnerable thing he’s ever done. Your tongue fumbles to find the right words, the right order to say them in, but all you can settle on is a “Thank you.” He shakes his head, not turning back when he replies. “I’ll see you later.” You busy yourself with gathering your bloody clothes, finding a T-shirt of his to wear so you don’t step into the hall naked. Tears threaten to fall but you choke them back, refusing to cry over him.
When that nice lieutenant finds you again, she tells you John’s been deployed, and he won’t come back until he finds your brother.
-
is anyone noticing how he uses different petnames based on the circumstances? no, just me? also i swear this has a happy ending we just have some idiots in love.
taglist
@lveegsoi
@galactict3a
@nova-willow-541
@sirbonesly
@starlightkitten19
@prettycatboy
@roastyyytoastyyy
@autumnheartsprice
@lucienofthelakes
@eyeless-kun
@bina-passion-fruit
@lilynotdilly
@lovenewfandoms
@tired-writer04
@sleep101
@konigsm
@mehjustalasshere
@alyssajofreitas
@thriving-n-jiving
#price#price call of duty#price is right#captain john price#angst#tornadothoughts#john price x y/n#simon riley x john mactavish#john price x you#john price x f!reader#captain johnathan price#captain price x reader#captain price#john price x reader#price x reader#price x you#price x y/n#cod 141#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#fic: the wrong john
561 notes
·
View notes