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heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

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Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @jinx-nanami

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reignpage · 2 months ago

Text

Vice President!Sukuna

Pétain: losing it all pt 1

Word count: 4.4k Contents: 18+ mdni, cursing, smut, reading this is not compulsory, part 2 will explain The Night, so please read the warnings before reading, I will seriously block minors and ageless blogs Warnings: noncon, cnc, dub-con, primal play, threat of violence and act of violence, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, exhibitionism, slight blood play After much deliberation, I've decided to add noncon in the warnings, again proceed with caution

“Is that the Vice President?” Someone whispers.

Another girl whispers back, “No, he’s the President now.”

You ignore everyone and continue your way to the field, carrying two buckets of soil, ready to plant the seeds in your pocket. Being a member of the Green Thumb Society meant being at one with nature, giving back to the Earth so that we can maintain an equilibrium, ensuring that the future generations will have something to inherit.

Or whatever.

Truthfully, you haven’t been listening, simply itching to get your hands dirty so you can distract your mind. Not being the president means having lots of free time, but not having any friends means you don’t have anything to do in those times. At first, you were overjoyed because then you can focus on the mountain of work you have, however, once you sat yourself down to finish up all the readings and applications you had, you realised you didn’t actually have that much work to begin with.

So now, you’re digging in the dirt, right at the edge of the forest at the back of the Lawn, pretending you can’t feel searing eyes on your back. The ground is hard, and you’re not even sure this is the right season to start planting anything, but what do you know?

Because it’s almost winter, the sky is darkening much faster than anyone would like, and you’re starting to feel more and more anxious as the clouds turn orange in the horizon. Coupled with the fact that you can feel a presence looming behind you, making the hairs on your arms stand, your fight or flight has been activated.

“We need to talk.”

“No,” you say without missing a beat.

A hand comes out and grabs the back of your sweater, hauling you up, shovel falling to the ground. You’re being spun around to face a frustratingly handsome face and he’s giving you a deadpan look, unimpressed by your stubbornness. Standing on your tiptoes, you have to cling onto his jacket to keep steady.

“I wasn’t asking, prez,” he drawls.

Scowling, you smack his chest once and then again when he didn’t even flinch. “That’s the problem; you never ask.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, arm dropping so you can stand on your own, but he doesn’t let go. Probably thinks you’ll run again. Though, you’re not sure why he thinks you would; you’re not drunk. And you certainly don’t want a repeat of last time, people still come up to you to recite your speech.

“Let’s get outta here,” he pulls you with him.

You dig your heels onto the ground, slapping his arm to let you go. There’s no way in hell you’re going anywhere with him, being alone with Sukuna doesn’t work out well for you, it only forces you deeper and deeper into a hole you don’t want to be in and have been trying to get out for years now. Plus, you’d hate to give him the satisfaction.

“Stop being a pain in the ass,” he growls, dragging you with him regardless. Your futile attempts at escape are only irritating him more. “You’re gonna talk whether you like it or not.”

People are staring and you’re gritting your teeth, the embarrassment making your face heat up and you pull away harder. “Sukuna, stop, people are gonna talk.”

He gives you a look that screams, who the fuck cares.

“No, stop it, I’m serious,” people are whispering and pointing. “Please, Sukuna.”

Halting suddenly, your face hits his back. His back hurts, Jesus.

One glance at you makes him roll his eyes and then he’s dragging you the opposite direction, into the forest. It’s darkening and the thick lines of trees makes your heartbeat faster and, once again, you’re trying to wrangle yourself out of his grip. This is the kind of place young girls go to die.

“Not there, either!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses.

Eventually, the Green Thumbers disappear from you and all you can see for miles are trees. And a pissed off pink-haired, varsity jacket wearing pain in the ass, tapping his foot on the mud. You simply cannot catch a fucking break. Because apparently you committed some atrocities in your past life and now you must be punished. Again, and again and again.

“Talk me through what the fuck is happening. Why did you let that old fucker push you out of your position and why the fuck aren't you fighting to get it back?”

You lean against a tree, the bark scratching you even through your sweater. Guess this is happening. With a sigh, you explain, “There wasn’t anything I could have done, Sukuna. He said, I was giving the school a bad rep. That the trustees don’t think I’ve been a doing a good enough job, what with Cursed Womb still running amok, the gossip column spreading the students’, and the staff’s, dirty secrets across campus and even across the city. Not to mention all those times I’ve been late to meetings, files going missing, and presentations being inaccurate. Thank to you.”

Sukuna huffs, leaning against a tree too, hands stuffed into his pocket. At first glance, he doesn’t even look like he’s listening to a thing you’re saying, but you know him better than that, unfortunately. Because when he flexes his jaw, you know he’s annoyed.

“Alright, my bad.”

Your eye twitches. “Your bad? Your bad? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

You walk away.

With no idea where to go, you’re just marching away, kicking away leaves and pushing branches away from your face. Muttering curses under your breath, you grow weary of the darkening of the night, you start to regret letting him drag you away at all. Why do you always get swept up in his bullshit?

When you almost trip over a log, you screech. The ground nears but just as you’re about to fall, you’re being yanked back into a hard chest.

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he growls.

“Why are you such a fucking prick?” You scream. “You’re everywhere. Seriously! Fuck off! Why do you want to ruin my life? It isn’t enough that you forced me out of the position so you can have it for yourself, but now you want to make me miserable by not letting me do anything fun?”

Your hands are flying, half waving in the air and half smacking into him, hitting whatever you can reach and you’re stomping your feet. This is all ridiculous — he hated you, and then he has these stupid, ridiculous moments where he makes your heart clench, where he looks at you like you’re somebody, like you’re special, and it always left you reeling, unable to sleep at night.

“Calm the fuck down!” He yells back. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“CRAZY! I’m acting crazy. Ohhhhh, you’re such a fucking dick. I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

He’s grabbing your wrists, trying to restrain you so you’d shut up, but you’re done being silenced. Done with his horrible attitude and personality and his stupid face. Everything went to shit because of him, he ruined your first year, and now he’s ruined your third year, but apparently that isn’t enough because he’s trying to ruin every day of the rest of your life.

Sukuna’s trying to get a word in, but you’re rambling, screeching and hollering about anything and everything, somethings he’s willing to admit was his fault, but other things were just plain ridiculous.

“I dropped my bagel this morning and it was because of you! I can’t prove it but I know you had something to do with it. Your stupid malevolent energy reached me from whatever depths of hell you crawled out of, and you ruined my breakfast! That cost me £7! £7, Sukuna!”

“Shut the fuck up for just a second, y/n.”

“A-and when I slipped in the shower, I’m sure your evil spirit pushed me— “

“How could that possibly— “

“And now I have a bruise!”

“Have been my fault?”

SMACK!

In the midst of complaining and rambling, your arm had flung over, and your hand slipped. Right onto his cheek.

You slapped Sukuna.

And the clenching of his fists, his heavy breaths, tensing shoulders, and flexing of his jaw all scream you’ve fucked up. You’re inching away, hands coming in between you two, shielding yourself from him. The burning of your hand is urging you back and back, eyes firmly fixed on the raging bull in your china shop.

Oh shit.

In all the two years and a bit you’ve known Sukuna, have kept an eye out for him, you’ve never seen him look this angry. And though you once thought he’d never raise a hand against a woman, against you, you’re suddenly very very unsure.

His red eyes raise to meet yours and the tick at the corner of his mouth makes your heart drop. He says one word. And you turn away, silent screams escaping you.

“Run.”

Your legs pump, frigid air biting cheeks, stabbing every exposed inch of skin as you disappeared further and further into a forest, weaving around thick trees and hurdling over logs and rocks. You’re practically galloping, pushing your body to its limits as you twist and turn, shuddering breath misting in front of you as your heart skips a beat.

If he catches you, you’re dead.

“Fuck!” You cry out. Sprinting, you ignore the growing ache in your legs and the pain in your ankles; you’ve never run like this before. Although, to be fair, you’ve never been chased by a livid Ryomen. Not sure anyone has ever lived to tell the tale.

Leaves crunch under your shoes as you pushed through, unsure of where to go, where is safe. He's stronger, bigger and faster than you. You both know it. There isn't anywhere you could go where he wouldn't find you. It's as if you've entered a labyrinth of shadows, your vision obscured by the thickening blanket of night and every snap of a twig all around you threaten to make tears spill.

"Oh, prez, where are you?" His voice has taken a mocking, singsong tone, and it's scariest thing you've ever heard. It sends shivers down your spine, a promise of the damage that he could do, that despite the saccharine sweet words, he is nothing but nice. You fight the urge to scream.

"Leave me alone!"

Foot catching on something, you tumbled forward, palms reaching out and scraping against the rough earth. The sharp sting barely registered through the adrenaline coursing through your veins but you know it'll leaves marks. You scrambled to your feet, dirt sticking to your clothes, a sob catching in your throat, your eyes darting around the endless sea of trees.

"You know I can't do that."

"Why?" You yell back.

When you whirl your head back, scanning the area for any sign of pink hair or a purple jacket, you find nothing but shadows shaped like trees, their silhouette sharp and bony. You’re panting, chest heaving as you try to gulp air desperately.The trees look like his allies, obscuring him from your view, harbouring a criminal.

His voice is a low breeze and you can't pinpoint where it's coming from when he laughs sardonically, "You already know why, prez."

He could be anywhere, and you’re pressing yourself against a tree, nails digging into the bark as you looked around frantically. It’s dark. The only source of light being the moon and when you fumble for your phone in your jean pocket, you can’t find it. You must have dropped it.

“This isn’t fair!”

You’re sobbing, tearing out your hair. Seconds pass. Maybe even minutes and there aren't any signs of Sukuna, of anyone being here apart from you. He could have left already. You laugh hysterically.

“I did everything right! I worked hard, I never complained, never broke a rule. Why am I being punished?” You punch the tree and cry even harder when it hurt. Your fist throbs. “OW! Fuck! What did I do that was so fucking wrong?”

There were rumours once of a girl who had died in the woods, right at the very centre of the forest. She had a fight with her boyfriend about something or the other, and they fought here, all night. But when morning came, only one emerged. No one could verify this gossip, no news article, nothing concrete, but the students who passed through Eden spoke of it as if it was as true as the sun is blinding. You're trying to wrack your brain for any more information, your brain desperate to distract you from the mania creeping through veins.

She was a law student.

"I don't want to die," you cry. "I've barely lived. I still haven't gone skydiving, haven't driven on the motorway 'cause that shit's fucking scary. A-and I need to say 'I love you' to my mother, and well fuck my father. But I want to say goodbye to Mr. Teddy and Mrs. Kitty Cat. They'll be so fucking sad."

“Talking to yourself, prez?”

You scream.

Sukuna’s leaning against a tree a couple metre behind you. You hadn’t heard him. Not even a snap of a branch or the rustling of leaves. He has his jacket off and thrown over his shoulder, his shirt riding up as he brushes his hair back, a seething sneer on his face.

When he makes a step forward, you stumble back, another scream lodged in your throat. “Stay back! I swear, don’t come near me.”

A sharp smile climbs up his face, a glint in his eyes, and his jacket is being dragged behind him as he stalks over to you, completely disregarding your warning, his long legs taking him closer. You have goosebumps on your arms and you’re so close to pissing yourself.

“So you can use a little violence, but I can’t?” He cocks his head at you. “That’s not very fair, is it, my adorable little president?”

“I’m not yours!”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being pinned to the forest floor. You fall with a thump, screech muted by a hand over your mouth. His hip is between your legs, thighs spread and stretching to accommodate his body which holds you down, unable to wiggle or crawl away. Your hands claw at the leaves and mud, dirt caking your nails, and you’re trying to ignore the smirk on his face.

Tutting, he snapped, "This has been a long time coming, prezzy."

He looks murderous. Like a serial killer who’s just found the perfect next victim. And before you can complain, his mouth is crashing down on yours. It’s a clash of teeth, his tongue penetrating your mouth when you gasp, fighting yours as you push at his shoulders, bucking your hips to throw him off.

When your clothed core grinds against his hard length, you moan. “Let me go!”

Sukuna nips your bottom lip, the taste of iron filling your mouth and you’re lightheaded. With a growl, he promises, “Never.”

Bare hands clutching your sweater, he rips it off you, the fabric snapping and disappearing over his shoulder. The cool air pricks your skin, pebbling your nipples and he’s covering your tits with his huge hands, groping and kneading like they’re his worst enemies.

“No bra, prez?” He snarls into your ear before licking a strip up your neck. “You’re just walking temptation, aren’t you?”

His hips are grinding on yours, a punishing pace that sets your skin ablaze and you’re gasping with every roll of your nipples between his fingers and whimpering when he pinches and pulls. Like you’re being controlled by someone else, you grind back, legs crossing over his legs.

“Let me go!” You cry out again. “Stop it, Sukuna!”

He bites your neck, and you arch into him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. When you pull at his hair, he only huffs a laugh before he’s creeping a hand into your jeans, somehow having unbuttoned and unzipped it. His fingers press against your panties, and you hide your face into his neck, nipping him back.

“You tell me to stop but you’re soaked,” he laughs.

His hand weaves inside your panties, rubbing your clit at a merciless pace; hard and fast from the get-go, your eyes are shutting, and you cry out when he dips inside, soaking himself with your wetness. He curls them, prodding and pummelling that spot inside of you that has you digging your nails into his back, threatening to rip up his shirt.

With a broken moan, you smack his back, “No more!”

“More? This not enough for you,” his voice is mocking. “Don’t wanna cum from my fingers, is that it, you frustratingly beautiful piece of work?”

Before you could argue back, could push him away, or kick your legs, he’s pulling your jeans halfway off, and then he’s spinning you around, face down and ass up. The cold air brushes against your sloppy pussy, clit swollen from having been rubbed and petted by his hostile hand, longer fingers stretching you out.

And then something equally hot and wet touches your slit. He's lapping up your wetness, fingers still curled inside of you as he rubs your walls whilst he sucks at your clit. You're moaning, fingers digging into the dirt as you try to crawl away, but his spare hand is holding you down, forcing you to arch more painfully so he can suck and lick to his heart's content. He scissors his long fingers, forcing you to stretch.

"Stop! Stop it!" You sob. He isn't listening, he's taking what he wants from you, extracting a strained orgasm that makes you tear up, pussy clenching around his fingers. "No! No, I don't want this!"

"I don't care," is all he says. Through the fog of pain and pleasure, you hear a ziiiip, and you’re panicking, hands clawing even more. You have to get out of here, have to escape. If anyone's emerging, it's you. It has to be you.

But when he lines his cock up, you realise your face isn’t buried in leaves and mud, but rather something soft. It’s his jacket. He slams inside you in one thrust.

“FUCK!”

He’s thrusting inside, hard, and with a bruising grip on your hips, simultaneously keeping you still so he can drill his fat cock inside your clenching pussy and pulling you to meet his hips. The forest is quiet, apart from the choked moans and groans coming from you, and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

“Been keeping this tight pussy from me?” He thrusts harder, cock head rubbing against that spot inside you and it steals your breath. “Fucking selfish!”

You’re trying to argue back but it all just comes out garbled, drool pooling under your chin. There’s nothing you can do but maul his hands, trying to pry them off you. He doesn’t let up, only thrusts harder, like he’s punishing you for all his frustrations.

“I hate you!” You manage to push out.

Sukuna leans forward, heavy body pinning you to the floor even more so he can nip your ear, licking away the blood and growling at the taste. “You may hate me, but this cunt doesn’t.”

And to prove his point, he shuts up, grinding inside of you so you can hear the squelching of your pussy and the way it’s squeezing him for more, desperate to milk him so it can be coated in his cum. You twist, hand pushing against his chest whilst you cry, tears streaming down your face from the sheer stretch.

“Tell me what happened. Tell me what I did,” he orders.

You shake your head, groaning with every thrust, and when he rubs your clit with one hand, whilst the other gropes your bare tit, you can only cry out louder. “You ruined everything! Ngh! I had it all and you -ha- took it from me.”

Clinking of metal and rustling of paper catches your eye. He’s dropped money on the floor. Sukuna’s emptied his wallet in front of you, even his cards fall out, including a shiny black one. They all clink and clatter right by your head.

“Take it all as compensation for your fucking bagel, you damn brat.”

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE BAGEL,” you screech.

His hips don’t stutter, not even for a second, insistent on plunging his cock again and again so your pussy will never forget the shape of it. You can feel him in your stomach, can feel every ridge, every vein, and you think you might just pass out from the stretch.

Years of pressure, of tension, of hatred, of bitterness and resentment build up inside of you, tearing you apart. You think about the tears, the nightmares, the loneliness in your first year. The numbness in your second and the anger, the pain, the pleasure in your third.

“Keep crying, baby. Only —ha— makes me want to fuck you harder till you can’t cry anymore.”

It’s a tsunami approaching land, you can feel the painful orgasm creeping up, threatening to drown you. And when his left hand falls beside your head, steadying himself so he can angle his cock deeper, kissing your cervix with every thrust now, you see something that looks so familiar you missed it every time you saw it on his wrist.

He’s wearing your hair tie.

You cum all over him, drenching his abs with your wetness, and you’re tensing up, still being used as practically a sex doll, all limp and pliant for his pleasure. It’s the kind of pleasure you’ve never had before, the one you’ve chased with boys who didn’t know what they were doing, couldn’t tell your thigh from your clit, and have only ever left you unsatisfied and full of regret.

“Fuck! S’kuna!”

“That’s right, prez, cum all over my cock. Take what you want, baby.” He soothes your ass, watching the way it’s bouncing on his length to elongate your high, before he meets you in the middle.

And with one last moan, you fall, your ass kept up high by his hands only. Then, he cums with a growl, right in your ear, the vibrations piercing your body and lighting your soul with a warmth you can’t bear to think about.

“So fucking good,” he snarls. “Perfect. Fucking made just for me, yeah?”

He wasn't talking to you, was only groaning to himself, but you mutter agreements, everything you can to make him spurt out all of his hatred for you. And he does. You feel it spilling out.

When you both calm down, lying on the ground — you on his jacket and him on the floor — you feel something has changed between you. An acceptance of whatever the fuck is wrong with both of you. Of that strange, fucked up string connecting you both. You won’t fight it anymore.

Can’t fight it anymore.

You're a mess. Tears and drool drying on your face, your juice and his cum coating your inner thighs, dirt and blood caking your body. You've never felt more cleansed.

Feeling an urge to cry but having used up all your tears, you scoot over to him, lying on his chest and his arms wrap around you like it’s second nature, a hand rubbing your back whilst the other threads through your hair, pulling out leaves from the tangles.

“I’m bored,” you admit, tracing abstract patters on his chest. His shirt is sticking to him, slightly damp from the exertion. You’re completely naked, jeans discarded somewhere. There should be a fear of being caught, of being seen in such a vulnerable position, but for some reason you don’t care. Maybe it’s because you know Sukuna wouldn’t let that happen. Or maybe he would, and you just don’t care anymore.

He sighs. “I know.”

“I really liked being the president,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“But the Dean ruined everything. No, Mahito did. No, you did.”

He sighs again. “I know. I’ll fix it.”

You raise your head, chin resting on your hand as you look up at him. “How are you gonna do that?”

Brushing errant hairs from your face, he promises, “EdenU relies heavily on funding from my family. I’ll force the Dean’s hand, make him reinstate you.”

Unable to resist the urge, you bite his chin, feeling an aggressive desire to make him hurt. He smacks your ass in retaliation.

“But what about you? Didn’t you want to be president? Isn’t that what this whole thing’s even about?” It’s odd to be so casual, so conversational after that mind-numbing sex and the fact that there’s so much to be said, to be discussed between you two, but that’s just how it is with you and him. You aren’t normal. And certainly, aren’t healthy.

“Nah,” he scoffs, “been president for like a week and that shit was tiring. Dunno how you did it.”

You giggle. “It’s not for the weak, that’s for sure.”

Sukuna slaps your ass for his own pleasure, a grin growing on his face. matching yours. But then it drops as he looks over your face, like he’s just remembered what the whole thing’s been about. Your smile drops too.

“Do we have to?” You ask, but the grim look on his face is all the answer you need.

He cradles your cheek in one hand, uncharacteristically soft, and then he pecks your lips, once, twice. “Tell me what I did to you. Tell me what I put you through.”

You try to pull away but he’s holding you tighter. Your lip trembles and with a hiccup, you hiss, “What does it matter? Will you even apologise?”

“Yes,” he insists. “I’ll do it. For you. I’ll do it now.”

Sitting up, you try to find your clothes, fumbling in the dark. You find your panties and jeans, miraculously, and put them on. Unfortunately, your sweater is ripped up, but he drapes his jacket on you, and you both know it’ll stay with you from now on, like he had always intended.

“If I tell you, we’ll have to start over again.”

His mouth is teasing and tasting wherever it can reach, exploring your neck, brushing your cheek and your hair, as if he’s promising your body his sincerity when he says, “Whatever it takes, I’ll win you back. Even if it takes forever.”

You’re willing to test that out.

So, leaning back on his chest, you recount the night you set out to lose one thing and ended up losing everything.

#jjk x reader #jjk sukuna ryomen #jjk angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #jjk drabble #jjk fic #jjk smut #sukuna smut

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gloomwitchwrites · 6 months ago

Note

Omg!! Think you can do the opposite version of the hickey ask? Where the guys notice a hickey and get all jealous n’ pissy🤩 i love it & your writing🥰

Ha! Anon, you have me giggling and kicking my feet. The hickey ask anon is talking about can be found HERE, but I absolutely love the idea of doing the opposite. Instead of a hickey on one of the guys, it's on reader. hehe. (oh god I need to go touch grass or maybe use my teeth to the mow the lawn right now because I am salivating).

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, possessive behavior, rough kissing, secret relationships, suggestive themes, jealousy

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John’s grip on your upper arm is a vice.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he says, voice low.

“Let go, John,” you snap. “You’re going to cause a scene.”

“Am I?” he counters. “Everyone’s already been talking. You’re showing that thing off on your neck like you’re proud of it.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply. “Why do you care?”

With a quick tug, John plasters you against him. His body is all heat and muscle. Everything in you ramps up, becomes wanton. It remembers him.

“Who the fuck touched what’s mine?” he asks in a hoarse whisper.

You swallow. Shake your head. “I’m not yours, John. You always push me away.”

John’s lips come dangerously close to yours. “Tell me who touched you.”

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You feel him freeze, as if his mind and body are frozen as he tries to recall what happened. The two of you had been drinking when you slid into his lap.

John closes the distance, stealing a kiss that is more possession than anything else. The sensation goes straight down to your toes, and pools between your thighs.

“Come back to my office.”

“John—”

“I want to recreate last night.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No. Don’t walk away from me.”

Kyle’s hand grips your wrist. He tugs, pulling you back in his direction. Kyle is right there, standing so close, head bent forward with intimacy that sinks down into your soul and shatters everything you are.

You cannot resist this man. Never.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting this way, Kyle.”

Kyle grasps the side of your face, his thumb pressing down on your bottom lip. “Because someone marked you. I want to know who it is.”

Does he not know? Does Kyle not remember?

Kyle licks his lips and you follow the movement, remembering how he tasted last night.

“Tell me who it is. I just want to talk to them. Set them straight.”

You laugh and Kyle frowns.

“You’ll be talking to yourself,” you reply.

His mouth opens. Closes. Kyle’s hand drops away from your face to settle on your shoulder, fingers delicately tracing the mark on your neck.

“I did this?” he asks, almost absently.

“You did,” you affirm, heat rising to your cheeks. “Last night.”

Kyle smirks. His gaze roams upward, meeting your own. “Want me to give you a few more? Doesn’t have to be on your neck.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Oh, love. What’s this?”

You lean away but Johnny is quick. He corners you, pressing you into the wall. He’s smiling, but you can see the underlying irritation. His gaze roams all over your body.

“Need something?” you bite, knowing that if the two of you linger here too long, someone will come looking or accidently happen upon you.

It’s not like Johnny is being discreet. He has one knee between your legs, and a hand on your hip. It’s a possessively intimate embrace, and it reminds you of all the things the two of you did last night.

“Aye. I do actually.” Johnny lightly pinches the mark on your neck and you flinch.

“What the fuck?”

“Who gave you that?”

You blink. “What?”

“The fucking hickey. Tell me so I can beat their fucking face bloody.”

You roll your eyes and Johnny pinches you again.

“Stop that.”

“Tell me.”

“You’ll be fighting yourself, Johnny.”

Johnny’s demeanor completely changes, becoming a sultry thing that swirls pleasure deep in your belly. This time he doesn’t pinch. He leans in, running his tongue along the mark. When he pulls back, he grasps you tight, pressing his lips to yours, stealing all breath.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re mine,” growls Simon as he picks you up and sets you on top of your desk.

You have no space to argue. Simon is already kissing you. Nipping your lips. Drawing forth a bit of blood to suck into his mouth.

“I know,” you whimper as his hand squeezes your thigh, dragging you to the edge of the desk. His hardness grinds against you, and you moan.

“If you know, then tell me why someone else has marked what’s fucking mine.” Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you back, and holding firm. Your fingers claw at the front of his shirt.

“What are you talking about?”

Simon growls. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You blink. Completely confused. “You gave this to me.”

Simon says nothing. He just stares. “Last night.” You shrug. “I mean we drank a lot but fuck. Thought you’d remember that.”

Simon gently eases his hand from your neck. “I don’t. But you know what that means, love?”

You suck on your bottom lip, tasting a bit of blood that Simon coaxed to the surface. “What?”

“Just means I need to give you a few more. As reminders. For you. And others.”

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@whisperwispxx @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @arrozyfrijoles23

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nanaslutt · 11 months ago

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thinking about itsuomi….

ʚ cont: fem reader, dry humping, praise, he talks you thought it, itsuomi is the greenest flsg, soft soft soft soft

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

you wrapped your legs tighter around Itsuomi’s waist, trying to resist the urge to roll your hips against his crotch as he kissed you, his hands grabbing the sides of your waist, squeezing your skin tighter every so often.

his body felt so hot against yours, making your skin burn even hotter with desire. he kissed you slowly, passionately, making you really feel every inch of his lips against yours. your chest touched his every time you inhaled, trying to keep your breaths quiet and devoid of whimpers that so desperately wanted to escape.

you hadn’t noticed, too consumed in focusing on the silver haired man’s lips, but you had been squirming against him for a while now, too aroused and overwhelmed with how good this all felt. itsuomi pulled back from your lips, his lidded eyes taking over your face, your lips parted and swollen from the kiss, eyes cloudy, as you looked at him patiently, waiting for his next move.

“do you want to stop?” he asked, his voice coming out soft as he tipped his head at you. you felt your face heat up, never having had someone be so gentle with you before. you shook your head, squeezing your legs around his to emphasize your words.

“okay,” he responded, a barely there smile cracking the corner of his lips before he leaned his face back down. you expected to feel his lips on yours again, but you were instead met with the plushness of his lips on your neck, softly kissing right over your pulse point.

you were unable to hold back the gasp that left your lips, your hand immediately coming up to press against your mouth, a preventative measure to make sure no more embarrassing sounds left your lips. itsuomi pulled back for a moment, his lips just grazing your skin before he spoke, “You don’t have to hold back your voice, same goes for your hips.” he said, exposing you.

you felt a rush of heat burn your face, making you tip your head in the direction opposite from him. “I want to make you feel good, if you need to move, move. I’ll do it with you if you’re too shy, okay?” he said sweetly, pressing another kiss to your pulse point.

Itsuomi watched from the crook of your neck as your eyebrows pinched together before you nodded shyly, your hand pulling back from your mouth, slowly dropping back down onto his shoulder.

you allowed yourself to relax against him when you felt his kisses on your neck turn to sucks, his warm, wet tongue caressing your skin between his lips. you were met with the shallow, slow thrust of his hips against yours, making you gasp again, a sound you tried not to feel too embarrassed about since Itsuomi had told you to let go.

he experimentally thrust against you again, a bit harder this time, making you suck a breath in between your teeth. “feels good?” he whispered between sucks against your neck. “mhm..” you responded quietly, feeling that same familiar throbbing intensify between your thighs.

itsuomi picked up his pace a bit, finding a rhythm as he rutted his hips against yours. you could feel something prominent and hard pressing right against your cunt, making you feel dizzy. you knew what that feeling was. just knowing Itsuomi was as aroused as you were was driving you crazy.

“move your hips back against me, you can do it.” he encouraged, one of his hands sliding down your waist and landing on your hip. his fingers curled behind your lower back as he pulled your hips against him, helping you out.

he released a breathy moan against your neck when you gave in and let yourself move against him, humping your cunt on his crotch when he rubbed himself into you. “just like that.” he praised, picking his head up from the crook of your neck.

you looked like you were being fucked for real, your jaw open as whimpers steadily fell out as his hard boner rubbed against your clothed clit, eyes fluttering in your head, eyebrows scrunched together.

you hummed against his lips when he connected them once more, the kiss a little needier now as he pulled your leg over his hip, making you wrap your legs around his back. you felt yourself gush when his tongue poked against your lips, asking for permission. you opened them more against him, letting his warm tongue enter your mouth and tangle with yours.

breathy moans were being pushed out of your mouth and into his by his hips rutting against you, his cock straining in his pants against you making you feel hotter and hotter with each thrust. you did your best to move your tongue with his, but his quickly overpowered yours as he explored every inch of your mouth.

you cracked your eyes open and noticed how red his face looked, even being so close to yours. his eyebrows were pinched together slightly, twitching every so often when he thrust against you, making his cock rub against the inside of his boxers just right.

Itsuomi swore he could feel how hot you were between your thighs through all the layers of fabric. he wanted so badly to just pull down your panties and stretch you open on his fingers while he sucked your clit into his mouth, but he knew he had to be patient.

Itsuomi was shocked out of his little daydream when your body tightened around him, your hips wiggling more and more, begging for friction against your clit. were you close? just from a little dry humping? Itsuomi pressed himself against you and rolled his hips in circles, making his bulge rub your clit around through your clothes, just like he would do with his fingers.

your lips started to slow against his as kissing him back proved to be harder and harder the closer you got to finishing. you tapped repeatedly on his shoulder, trying to get him to let up a bit so you didn’t cum in your pants.

“it’s okay, you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” he asked between kisses, not slowing his hips once even as he spoke. “you can cum, i got you.” he whispered, making you head feel fuzzy and warm. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tighter, bracing yourself.

itsuomi wasn’t quite there yet, but he was alright with edging himself if it meant he got to watch you cum. there would be plenty of times in the future he would be able to cum, he wasn’t greedy.

he watched in awe with a slightly opened mouth as your lips detached from his, your eyes fully falling shut, squeezing together tightly. “there you go, good girl.” he whispered as your body shook against his, your abdomen curling into him as your orgasm hit you.

it felt so fucking good as he worked you through it with his hips, rubbing you just the way you needed with his boner. your gasps and cries as you came were like music to his ears, he could feel himself drip pre cum into his boxers just from listening to you.

when you came down he immediately started pressing kisses to your hot cheeks, his hands brushing the stray hairs from your face. “good job, felt good right?” he asked, smiling at you with that usual smirk of his. you nodded, still a little out of it as you looked away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“heh, i know. promise i’ll make you feel that again. over and over, as many times as you want.” he said, his words making your face burn furiously. you nodded and pushed his shoulders away, trying to hide. itsuomi giggled and separated his body from yours, sitting on the side of the bed as he played with your inner thigh.

“cmon, gotta get you cleaned up. i’ll run you a bath.” he said, his head tipping in the direction of the bathroom. you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at the very obvious boner in his pants. itsuomi caught your gaze and pulled his t-shirt down over his cock, doing little to conceal it. “don’t worry about me, it’ll go down on its own.”

you felt bad he didn’t get to cum, but he seemed adamant in his words. next time, you would be sure to make him cum too. you nodded and let him scoop you into his arms as he walked you to the bathroom.

itsuomi wasn’t worried in the slightest about his little problem. he already planned to take care of it in his room while you soaked in the bath anyways, using the image of you orgasming on him as material to jerk off. the scene replaying over and over in his head on repeat.

#just a quick uhhhhh #thing #the new episode brought this on heh #nagi itsuomi #itsuomi smut #a sign of affection #smut #nagi itsuomi smut #nagi smut #itsuomi x reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 months ago

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Sunshine [7] - Heat Wave

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: There are many ways how a first date can end.

Word Count: 4400

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

A rational and emotionally mature person would know that drunk calls were normal, and the aftermath was inevitable. Drinking too much sometimes led to that, everyone knew, and a rational and emotionally mature person was supposed to just handle it with dignity.

Too bad you weren’t that person.

“So you’re avoiding the hot lumberjack?”

“Can we stop calling him that?”

You repressed a laugh and filled Nik’s cup with coffee.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m avoiding him,” you said. “It’s just…you know, I’m sure Logan is a very busy individual so if anything, I’m doing him a favor by not distracting him. For all we know, he could be on a mission right now. Do you really want him to die because he’s answering my call? I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”

“Sunshine—”

“He could be saving the world,” you pointed out. “Do you want the world to end because he is answering my call? Do you want me to be the person who causes the extinction of the whole humankind? I mean honestly what am I, a tech CEO?”

“You’re so avoiding him.”

You heaved a sigh, then leaned against the counter.

“I texted him the next morning.”

“But you didn’t call him?”

“I can’t call him,” you whined. “I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nik said and you tilted your head at Jamie who was eating his breakfast.

“How are you being so quiet about this? I thought you’d be thrilled that I’m avoiding him.”

“I am but I can’t comment on this whole thing, I have a conflict of interest.”

“Conflict of interest?”

“Yeah I hate the guy’s guts,” he stated before nodding at you. “Keep avoiding him, you’re better off without him.”

Nik gasped. “Jamie!”

“Babe, that guy is a walking red flag.”

“Even if it were true, he also looks like he belongs on the cover page of those vintage romance books my grandma has in her library.”

“Fabio?!”

“I don’t know his name Jamie, but in Logan’s case I’ll allow a little red.” Nik stated. “It’s been years since she got laid.”

Your jaw dropped. “No it hasn’t!”

“I’m half scared she’ll join a convent,” Nik said, motioning in your direction and making you roll your eyes.

“Guys.”

“She’s not just going to get laid, she’s already talking about moving to the mountains with that asshole.”

“It’s not a mountain, it’s a cabin in the woods!” you argued and Jamie shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever it is.”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear from me after that night,” you said. “I mean I totally made a move on him and…”

“And he turned you down because you were drunk!” Nik said with a smile and Jamie made a face.

“That’s like the bare minimum, don’t get impressed by that.”

“And when he maimed three guys for her?”

“The least he could do, considering what they threatened her with. Should’ve killed them if you ask me.”

A shiver ran down your spine but you made yourself busy with the tablecloth, wiping at the counter while Nik raised his brows.

“Driving her home so that she wouldn’t walk in the rain? Fixing her car? Going all the way from school to her neighborhood because he was worried about her being drunk and outside?”

“What are we, keeping a list now?”

“Darling I know you’re very adamant about hating this guy but you do have to admit the things he’s been doing for her are the opposite of a red flag,” Nik said, patting his hand as if trying to console him and Jamie heaved a sigh.

“I hate this.”

“So you think I should call him?” you asked Nik and he nodded.

“You should.”

“I disagree.”

“Well aware of that Jamie.”

“I hate him.”

“Figured that one as well, strange as it sounds,” Nik said before turning to you. “Call him.”

You nibbled on your lip, then motioned at Stacey and held up your phone, making her nod before you made your way out of the diner. Taking a deep breath, you found his name on the screen and touched it before taking the phone to your ear.

It rang only once.

“Hey princess.”

“Logan, hi!” you said, your heart pacing in your chest. “Um, are you busy?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Took you a while to sober up huh?”

You could feel your lips curling into a smile at his teasing remark.

“I may or may not have been avoiding you,” you admitted, biting at your nails. “I’m sorry.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a small chuckle. “Why were you avoiding me?”

You shrugged your shoulders as if he could see you.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “Reasons.”

He hummed and you shifted your weight before you leaned back to the wall of the diner.

“Thank you by the way,” you said. “For…that whole night. And I’m sorry for—for making a move on you, that’s very unlike me and I—”

“Are you free tonight?”

Your head shot up, your eyes widening at his question and you felt your breath catching in your throat before you swallowed.

“Me?” you felt the need to ask and he paused for a moment as if he didn’t know how to answer that.

“…Yes?”

“As in tonight tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh—sure!” you said, your voice going high pitched for a moment. “I’d love that!”

“Great, I can pick you up from the diner—”

“No!” you cut him off as you looked down at your uniform, frowning slightly. “I need to drop by my place first.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “I can pick you up from there then. Does 8 work for you?”

“Yeah!” you said breathlessly as you nodded your head so fast that you got dizzy for a second, blinking fast. “It totally works for me.”

“Great,” he said. “See you tonight then.”

“See you,” you said and hung up, then let out a squeal and pressed the phone to your chest, jumping up and down in your spot. You took a deep breath, then fixed your hair and made your way back into the diner to rush to the counter again.

“He asked me out!” you whispered to Nik, grabbing his arm. “Just now, he asked me out!”

Jamie let out a whine and buried his face into his palms while Nik grinned at you, patting Jamie on the back in a reassuring manner.

“See? Told you.”

“We’re meeting tonight! At 8!” you said and paused for a moment. “Oh my God what do I wear?”

“A Regency gown.”

“Jamie I love you but not now,” Nik told him before he turned to you. “We’ll videocall okay? You, me and Julie.”

“Okay.”

“And after you and Logan become a couple, we can have a double date.”

That was enough to make Jamie lift his head from his hands. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll convince him,” Nik told you and you let out a giggle, your insides all warm with excitement.

“Nik,” you said. “I really really like him.”

Nik let out an “aw!” and reached out to squeeze your hand.

“That’s good!” he said. “I mean granted we will grill him about his intentions with you but it’s a great start.”

Jamie opened his mouth to disagree but Nik elbowed him, shooting him a glare. You suppressed your laugh as Jamie heaved a sigh, then turned to you.

“Just…” he said. “Be careful. Please?”

“Always am,” you promised him with a grin. “The pie is on me by the way. For emotional support.”

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been on dates.

Nik was quite the matchmaker, so was Julie. In fact, for the last year, they had been acting like their sole purpose in life was to find you a boyfriend so if anything, you had been on too many dates.

Not that—

Not that you assumed this was a date.

Even if you were wearing matching lingerie underneath your dress.

You were basically buzzing with anticipation as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, fixing your hair before smoothing down your dress. Your wardrobe looked like it had exploded and for a moment the possibility of bringing Logan back to your apartment crossed your mind, making your heart skip a happy beat. You gathered up all your clothes into your arms to push them into the wardrobe, then put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side.

“Good enough,” you mumbled and walked to your vanity to check on your makeup, then went to the living room to approach the small fish tank. You grabbed the fish food next to it, then sprinkled it into the tank carefully before dragging your finger over the glass, following their movements.

Theo was going to be so happy when he saw them.

Your head whipped around when you heard the doorbell ring, your heart beating in your ears and to make it worse you knew very well that he could hear it but you refused to dwell on it, so you made your way to the door to open it.

Fuck, you were beginning to think you were never going to get used to just how hot he was.

“Hi!”

“Hi princess,” he said, his deep voice making your stomach do a happy flip as he looked you up and down. “You look beautiful.”

Oh dear God, you were not going to survive tonight.

“Thanks, so do you,” you said with a smile before you turned around to get your jacket and purse. “So um, where are we going?”

Where you were going turned out to be a cozy bar with soft music playing in the background. It was somehow so Logan, there was no chaos, no deafening noise or blinding lights.

Just pure comfort; the kind that made you almost lightheaded, warming your insides.

“So why exactly were you avoiding me?” Logan asked as the waiter put his whiskey and your cocktail on the table and you took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to focus on the question rather than how handsome he looked under the dim light of the bar as you crossed your arms on the table.

“I mean…” you trailed off, scrunching up your face for a moment. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Uh I don’t know if you remember that night,” you tried to joke your way through discomfort. “But it wasn’t what one would call dignified.”

He shot you a lighthearted glare and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I turn into a very impulsive person when I’m drunk,” you admitted and his lips quirked into a smile.

“Yeah I don’t know that many people who buy fish when they’re drunk.”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it,” you said with a laugh. “I have a worse drunk story actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, on my senior year in high school, me and my friends got drunk and in our town there was this guy who was a dog breeder,” you said. “And we knew he was terrible to them, we wrote petitions and everything for the town council to do something but there was no use. So one night, we knew he was out of town so we broke into his house and stole all the dogs.”

He raised his brows, smiling slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah! And we kept all of them at my friend’s house and one by one we got them adopted. The guy knew we did it, but there was no chip or anything so he couldn’t do anything.”

“Wow,” he said, a chuckle vibrating in his chest. “So you turn into a vigilante when you’re drunk, got it.”

“I do,” you said, raising your cocktail in a mock of toast before taking a sip while he leaned back. “I love animals. I was actually studying to be a—” you paused for a moment. “Well, studying is a big word for it considering I dropped out without even completing my freshman year, but I was studying to be a vet before Theo.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

“Mm hm.”

“Classmate?” he asked and you licked your lips, an icy spark replacing the happy warmth inside of you.

“Uh,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “T.A actually.”

Logan pulled his brows together and you took a sip of your cocktail.

“Trust me, I know how fucked up it sounds now,” you said with a small laugh. “But back then I didn’t and it worked out very well for him.”

“That guy really sounds like he needs to get his ass beat.”

“Oh Jamie actually beat him up once,” you pointed out. “In what became known as The Legendary Bar Fight. We celebrate it once a year with drinks.”

“You could give me his address.”

“Absolutely not, and I don’t even know where he is to be honest,” you said. “Anyway, why are we talking about him? Also why am I the one doing all the talking yet again?”

“I like listening to you talk.”

You could feel your cheeks growing warmer and a smile curled your lips.

“Until I give you a headache.”

“Never gonna happen.”

Your smile widened as you looked down at your cocktail, shifting your weight.

“Well, either way,” you mumbled. “It’s your turn now.”

“Oh, my turn?”

“I barely know anything about you,” you admitted. “Other than the fact that you have been saving me a lot since we met.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” you said. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“Alive.”

Your brows pinched together as you took a deep breath.

“Limited options, got it,” you said. “Were your family also mutants?”

“My brother,” he said. “Victor. We don’t…talk anymore.”

Something in his tone was distant, so you decided not to push it.

“Do you like working for Professor X?” you asked, steering the conversation to safer waters and that seemed to pull him out of his thoughts as he nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “Charles is the best man I’ve ever met. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

“Cross my heart,” you said with a giggle, proud of yourself for finding a better subject. “How did you meet him?”

“He found me back when I was a cage fighter.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry, a cage fighter?”

“Yeah I was uh…” he paused for a moment. “Wandering.”

“How does one become a cage fighter?”

“Wrong crowd,” he joked, making you let out a laugh.

“I’d bet. And now you are part time teacher, part time…going on missions.”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a costume,” you mused as he shook his head slightly. “Any chance I’ll get to see you in it?”

“If you ask nicely.”

A fire spread over your cheeks at the teasing tone in his voice and you scrunched up your nose at him.

“I’m always nice,” you pointed out nonchalantly. “Or has it escaped your attention?”

“Trust me, it hasn’t.”

His lips twitched when a smile warmed your face and that soft light started gleaming in his eyes.

“Okay,” you said, sitting up straight. “Another question.”

“Shoot.”

“You really didn’t get a handkerchief?”

He scoffed a laugh. “You remember that?”

“Unfortunately.”

“As I said, I had other priorities in mind.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. “I could see you in period clothing, now that I imagine it...”

“Please stop imagining me like that.”

“Like those long jackets, long boots—oh my God,” you gasped, making him raise his brows. “Logan!”

“I’m not gonna like what you’re about to say, am I?”

“A top hat!”

Logan nodded to himself. “Yep, called it.”

“No seriously,” you insisted. “On Halloween—”

“Absolutely not.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Nik throws these amazing Halloween parties and the theme was ‘write your own story’ a couple years back,” you said. “So I got this huge dress, like…17th century huge, with a corset and everything, and no one really thinks about it but it is quite hard to unlace a corset—" you tilted your head when you saw his smirk. ”Hey!”

Logan held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Let me guess, you’re painfully familiar with how to unlace a corset?”

“Still not saying anything.”

You hummed, trying to adapt a serious expression.

“Anyway, Casanova,” you said. “So my story was, there’s this girl, who was betrothed to the love of his life, and then he gets lost at the sea and everyone is convinced that his ship sank, but the plot twist, he wasn’t dead so he comes back but he’s a vampire, and he turns her into a vampire as well –obviously with consent— and they live happily ever after.”

“Quite the love story.”

“Thank you,” you said happily. “So no handkerchief?”

“No handkerchief.”

You hummed, then heaved a sigh.

“Very well then,” you said and grabbed your purse to take out a pen, then pulled the napkin on the table to yourself to write your initials on it. You pulled back to look at it better, then held it out for him.

“There you go, Mr. I had other priorities.” you said with a grin. “A make do handkerchief.”

The fond look on his face was enough to make your heart skip a happy beat as he stared at you, then took it from you and folded it before he pulled out his wallet, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I was just—you don’t have to actually keep it, it’s a silly joke,” you stammered and he shot you a glance of disbelief as if he was surprised that you thought he wouldn’t.

“I’ll keep it,” he said while placing it into his wallet in such a careful manner that one simple observer would think it was something incredibly precious for him rather than just a bar napkin. You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You were painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him so you forced yourself to drag your gaze from him to your cocktail and took a huge sip, your heart still beating in your ears.

“Okay then,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I hope you’re ready for more questions, because I have like a million of them.”

You had insisted walking after leaving the bar. It wasn’t that far away from your apartment, the weather was so nice, and you had hoped it would make him see you were completely sober, just in case it had escaped his attention how you had only drunk one cocktail in like two hours.

You had plans for tonight and it included him and your bed, God damn it.

“So you actually were a lumberjack?”

“I was cutting down trees and turning them into logs.”

“That’s what a lumberjack does,” you insisted as you walked beside him. “Julie has superpowers, I swear…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “And you had a real cabin in the woods?”

“Something like that.”

“Are they still hiring?” you asked him, making him let out a laugh. “Seriously, I want a cabin in the woods.”

“For your Hi-Horse?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared up at him. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he said as if he wasn’t melting your heart with that simple fact and you licked your lips.

“Did you have a horse?”

“Nope.”

“You had a cabin in the woods and you didn’t have a horse and two dogs and a cat?” you asked, pretending to be scandalized. “That’s just being short sighted, Logan.”

“Not all of us want to have a zoo, sweetheart.”

“It’s not a zoo!” you said with a gasp, making him grin.

“A farm then.”

“It’s not a farm,” you argued. “Farms have sheep.”

“Oh you don’t want sheep?”

“Of course I do but that’s beside the point,” you said. “It’s not a farm—”

“What are the sheep’s names?”

“Shearlock and Wooly Wonka,” you muttered, coaxing a chuckle out of him.

“Very creative.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I think it’s against the law to not have animals if you have a cabin in the woods.”

“It’s not.”

“Well it should be,” you said without hesitation and he bit back a smile as you stopped in front of your house.

Anticipation was swirling in your stomach, filling you with excitement and making your heartbeat faster. You knew he could hear it but for the first time, you didn’t mind it.

Desire was too strong to let you feel anything else.

“Um, so before I say what I’m about to say,” you said after a beat, turning to look at him better as you leaned back on the wall of the building. “I would like to point out that I’m completely one hundred percent sober.”

He tilted his head to the left, a mischievous light playing in his hazel eyes.

“Like, in case it has escaped your notice I only had one drink and it was a cocktail and it was a pretty light cocktail so like, half juice really,” you said. “And I’m not even buzzed, and even if I were buzzed, we walked here so fresh air would’ve helped. Which, it has no reason to help because to repeat I’m not even buzzed. I will blow on anything—that sounded wrong,” you corrected yourself, pulling your brows together. “Um, a breathalyzer I mean, if I blew into a breathalyzer it would come out a zero because I’m so sober, and—and—I don’t know if you paid attention to it, but I walked all the way here in a straight line, which should be the proof and if you didn’t, I can walk in a straight line right now to—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pulled you into a kiss.

You could swear the rest of the world stopped existing the moment his lips touched yours. His arm sneaked around your waist while he cradled the back of your head with his other hand, making your breath catch in your throat. Desire turned into fire in your veins, reaching your chest before it sent the warmth all over your body, making you dizzy. You gripped his shirt tighter in your fists, standing on your tiptoes, a soft whine escaping from your lips as soon as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fuck…” he whispered and you blinked up at him, nearly drunk in the haze.

“No I—I wanted you to do it,” you tried to find the right words through the fog of desire and he licked his lips, looking down at you before he shook his head slightly.

“You shouldn’t,” he rasped out and you pulled your brows together.

“I shouldn’t want you to do it?” you asked him, still trying to catch your breath and he nodded.

“I’m not…” he trailed off against your lips. “I’m no good for you.”

Your frown deepened before you let out a breath, and slowly reached out to cup his cheek. His eyes closed for a moment as if your mere touch was anchoring him to the moment, pulling him out of his own mind before he opened his eyes again to look at you. A tentative smile curled your lips and you thought for a moment before clearing your throat.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” you said, your voice soft. “I’ll be the one to decide whether you’re good for me or not. Alright?”

His eyes searched yours before he let out a breath, then nodded his head.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a murmur before he dipped his head down to kiss you again. A squeal escaped from you as he picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist and walked into the building. You had no idea how he didn’t lose his balance or hit anywhere on his way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he was kissing you like this, and you only noticed you had in fact reached your door when he pressed you against it.

“Inside, inside!” you giggled as you fished your keys out of your purse, and he held you with one arm, making your eyes widen while he took the keys from you and opened the door, then walked in and kicked the door shut behind him.

Oh God.

Oh God this was happening.

Now you understood what all those romance novels were talking about. You couldn’t pull yourself away from his kiss even if you wanted to, the fire had taken over your whole body until every single thought disappeared; the only thing that existed was him, and how good his lips made you feel. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you both fell on your bed, his weight taking your breath away for a moment before you unbuttoned his flannel and pushed it down his arms. He tossed it somewhere in the room and got rid of his white shirt underneath, making you let out a breath at his muscular body.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingertips grazed over his broad shoulders before slipping down to his hard chest and he helped you up to unzip your dress, his lips finding yours as if he couldn’t stand not kissing you even for a moment. He pulled back only to pull the dress off of you, but he froze as soon as his eyes fell on you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the whisper left his lips like a prayer and you felt your heart skip a beat despite the ever-consuming fire.

“Not really,” you teased him. “I just planned it.”

He raised a brow, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes and he slid down to the foot of the bed, then grabbed your ankle to pull you down, making you let out a small scream before you giggled, propping yourself up on your elbows to see him better.

“What are you doing?”

He gave you a wolfish grin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine as he knelt down at the foot of the bed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your inner thighs.

“Well, princess,” he muttered, your heart leaping up to your throat when you realized what he was about to do. “You’re not the only one who planned things.”

8 - Scorching

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett #logan xmen #wolverine logan

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 2 months ago

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[6:31 pm]

You were giggling hard, arms moving to deflect every oncoming gentle jab and poke from Jeno. You didn't know how you had gotten here, caged beneath Jeno as he smiled while watching you squirm and laugh beneath him. A few minutes ago you had been making the bed together and you had accidentally tossed a pillow too hard to Jeno's side. The toss had turned into him throwing the pillow back, that had become a pillow fight, and at some point the pillows had been abandoned in favor of using his hands. The sheets had long been messed up and laid in a tangled heap beneath the both of you.

"Jeno! Stop! I can't breathe!" You managed to get out through your breathless laughter.

"You started this!" Jeno laughed, his fingers poked into your sides. His clenched his fists, lightly hitting you on your arms while you swatted each light hit of his fists away from you.

You wriggled away from his touch, laughing and breathing a sigh of relief once you were out of his reach. "No more!" You smile, beginning to stand from the bed.

Jeno reaches for you again, wanting more than anything to have you in his arms again, to laugh with you and make good memories. However, Jeno grabs your waist just as extend your legs, only to have your legs be tangled in the mess of fabric.

Your eyes widen with a surprised yelp escaping your throat as you begin falling. Unfortunately for you and Jeno, his hold on you isn't solid enough to keep you upright and the sheets around your ankles make you fall forward with more momentum than you'd thought.

You land on the floor with a loud thump and a hiss of pain. Jeno is off the bed and at your side in a second, looking you over for any injuries. Your eyes are wide, still in shock from your fall, "you pushed me!"

Jeno's eyes widen and his jaw drops, "baby, I would never! I was trying to pull you back to bed and you fell!"

"Then how did I fall forward if you were trying to pull me in the opposite direction?" You question with an arched brow, wincing as Jeno gently prods your ankle.

"Sorry, love, I promise, I was trying to pull you back. I wouldn't hurt you," Jeno pouts.

"You were trying to pull me back to fight. I know you. Now my ankle hurts."

"I wanted to cuddle, you said stop so I listened," Jeno replies, scooping you into his strong arms to place you on the bed once more, "I'm going to go get you some ice. Don't move"

Jeno leaves the room and returns in under two minutes. He presses a bag of ice to your ankle while placing one of the throw pillows beneath your foot. He sits beside you, hand lightly grasping yours, "I'm sorry you got hurt."

You wave him off, "I believe you wouldn't push me. I was being dramatic and I was just surprised that I fell."

"Well, I'm never doing it again. No more play fighting for us."

You shake your head, "no... that means I can fight you and win since you won't fight back."

Jeno only sighs with a roll of his eyes, fixing the ice on your ankle before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #jeno drabbles #jeno blurb #jeno timestamps

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sttoru · 10 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your roommate, toji, can’t pay rent - again. he promises to pay you back soon, but you’re tired of his behaviour.

tags. (perv) roommate!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut, pōrn with plot kinda. dirty talk. rough. p in v -> unprotected. crēampie. fīngering. praise. reader gets called ‘princess, girl’. degrādation. toji’s a womaniser and asshole, like i’m talking dusty, manipulative asshole. unestablished relationship.

“that shit again?” toji rolls his eyes as he lazily switches between the channels on the television. he knows exactly what you’re going to say next. your complaining has a certain pattern that he’s picked up on.

he smacks his lips after being done with his snack. your snack - the one you put your name on before putting in the fridge. the dark-haired man shrugs, “i told ya, girl. i ain’t got the money this month.”

your head feels like it’s going to explode with anger. you know toji has the money. you saw him count the bills on his bed just yesterday, when you passed by his room to go to yours. “yeaaaah - gambled it all away, right?”

the usual excuse he uses. you’re sick and tired of hearing that for the nth time. it’s the same story every month. toji’s a lazy bastard. he’s living off your salary at this point. unapologetically.

“yep,” toji yawns, not even attempting to sound convincing, “got that right.” he knows you’re not going to do anything about it, so he takes advantage of that fact. you’re all bark, no bite.

you always tell him that you’re going to kick him out if he doesn’t pay, though you never take the action you swear on doing. toji has you wrapped around his finger and he knows.

even now, he notices the way you try not to look down at his body. his black shirt is slightly lifted, showing his happy trail that stops at the waistband of his boxers. the fact that he’s sitting on the couch with his legs spread only makes the sight more appealing.

“well, pack your bags then,” you cross your arms after succeeding into averting your attention to the problem at hand. you point at the door with a nod of your head, “i want you to leave by tonight.”

toji struggles to hold back a chuckle. he’ll play along for your sake and act upset by the situation. the tall man sighs and throws his hands up in defeat, trying to gain some pity, “aw, c’mon. have some mercy on me, yeah?”

you’re the one rolling your eyes this time. you’re not going to be naive about this anymore. you’re not going to fall into his trap. you stomp your way over to his room and grab the bag he uses for the gym, aggressively filling it with a bunch of his clothes.

“you’re going out,” you hiss as you walk back to your living room. you throw the filled bag at toji’s chest without hesitation. you know that you’re no match to a grown man, but you’re too fired up to care, “out. i don’t need some useless bum like you in my house.”

toji’s grin drops. his jaw clenches as he gets his bag thrown at him. you seem more serious about this. normally, you’d just cuss him out and lock yourself up in your room. you’re slowly breaking out of the helpless cycle you were in.

“move it,” you huff. your patience is wearing thin. you stand close to toji, your legs nearly touching. you’re towering over him as he sits on the couch, which gives you all the needed confidence. though if he were to stand up it’d be the exact opposite.

toji frowns and starts to realise that his usual manipulation tactics won’t work. he’s trying to think of other ways to distract you of your current dissatisfaction. some more… direct ways.

“you don’t mean that,” his voice turns husky. a real deep tone he only uses when he needs something out of a woman. toji’s veiny hand moves to the side of your thigh, slowly crawling up your skin while he gauges your reaction.

he’s never attempted distracting you in a sexual manner. perhaps now is the perfect moment to try out if it works.

your breath hitches as you feel his touch on your bare thigh. such a warm touch. you’re not going to act like toji hasn’t been attractive to you all this time. his cocky attitude is annoying, yes, but the nonchalance is also a huge turn on.

you’re in a daze. your rational mind is screaming at you to kick that man to the curb—to let him suffer the consequences of his actions—but you’re weak. you’ve sworn never to get involved with him intimately. you wouldn’t want to sleep with an asshole like him.

“do not,” your voice is shaky, revealing the truth behind your contradicting words. you can’t resist him and you’re slowly realising it. you don’t want to end up as all the other women toji’s charmed with his words and actions. you promised yourself that you wouldn’t fall for him.

and yet here you are.

“i can repay you in a different way, y’know?” toji hums, his other hand landing on your left thigh. he rubs your plush flesh up and down in a slow manner. his eyes watch yours intently. you’re nervous and it’s painfully obvious to him. he suppresses a victorious grin, “y’ sure you don’t wanna, princess?”

you’re as weak as they come. toji’s toying with you and you’re allowing it. you’re no different than those women he fucks every other day when he needs something from them. be it money or just stress relief.

you tremble as you feel his fingers graze against the insides of your thighs.

“i take the silence as a yes, hm?” toji chuckles haughtily. he cups the back of your thighs, just below your ass, pushing your body closer to his. you’re standing between his legs and his head is close to your chest. he looks up at you, “use y’r words f’me, pretty thing.”

your brain stops working. you’re so easy. all toji has to do is call you by those alluring names and you’re all his. his callused fingers stop at the hem of your shorts. they continue to sensually rub the material, inching closer to your clothed cunt.

“say you want it,” toji whispers, his raspy voice making your knees weak. you want it, but you’re stubborn enough to deny your desires. you’re throbbing, aching and wet for him. your eyes catch a glimpse of the bulge in his grey sweatpants.

“no, i won’t,” you try to keep your dignity, however you’re slowly losing it. it’s inevitable. you’re putty in his hands. you let out a high pitched whine when toji ‘accidentally’ slides his fingertips back and forth over your clothed pussy, “mgh—okay, okay. fuck—i want you. need you.”

you blurt the words out before you can stop them from leaving your mouth. you silently curse at yourself. your bodily desires have fully taken over. you hold onto toji’s broad shoulders, your grip on them so tight that it sends a shiver down his spine.

he knew that you’d give in sooner or later. the dark-haired man watches as you lower your head, placing it in the crook of his neck to hide yourself from him. he coos condescendingly—

“mhm. tha’s more like it,” toji wastes no time to pull your shorts down to your ankles. he licks his lips, breathing heavily against your bare shoulder. he can’t wait to take this further. he groans the moment your wetness makes contact with his hand, “shiiittt, she’s fuckin’ wet. bet you dreamt about this.”

your panties are discarded on the floor not a second later. you whine in embarrassment, though still spread your legs. you feel ashamed because of how quickly you gave in to his charms. you thought you’d be different, but alas.

your roommate is one hell of a womaniser.

“y’ think i don’t see those lewd looks you give me?”toji clicks his tongue. his green irises are shining brightly. he enjoys the feeling of your sloppy cunt against his bare hand. his thick fingers rub between your folds, teasing your entrance, “nasty little girl. got me wanting to fuck you silly every single time.”

the desire has been mutual all this time. you’ve been driving toji crazy since day one. the way you think you’re being subtle when checking him out never fails to make him hard. or when you walk around the apartment in those skimpy clothes—those shorts that define your ass so well.

he’s sure that you are doing it all on purpose. not wearing a bra, staring at him for too long when he comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist, sneaking glances at the outline of his fat cock. you’re not as clever as you think you are.

toji finally has you in his grasp and he’s not letting go. he’ll pound you to the mattress, until you’re satisfied and overstimulated.

he’ll get revenge for all those times you’ve (un)intentionally left him hard. all those times you left him sexually frustrated. all those times he had to resort to other things to relieve himself. all those times he had to waste his cum on his hands or on other women.

all those times he couldn’t fuck you—his pretty little roommate.

“you’re a pervert,” you whimper as you feel toji slip two fingers inside you without warning. his eyes nearly roll back from how tight you’re gripping his digits. it’s going to be so worth it once he’s got your pussy wrapped around his cock.

“yeah, but tha’s how you like ‘em,” toji laughs, not taking any offence to the accusation. he is a pervert when it comes to you and you secretly love it. the squelchy sounds echoing through the living space are all the evidence he needs, “no need to deny it. y’r cunt is doing all the talking for ya.”

you weakly punch his chest at his dirty words. he’s riling you up in both the best and worst ways possible. you moan and your hips shake from pleasure, feeling him curl his fingers up inside you. you hiccup and try to silence him, “shut up!”

toji loves seeing you deny your own feelings. it gives him so much power over you. he knows you’ll come back crawling to him when he’s done here.

after all, you’re stuck with him. literally. he’s not leaving this apartment any time soon. not when he’s got a cute roommate like you awaiting him whenever he comes back home.

soon enough, you end up in his bed. it smells like him. you’ve only imagined being in this situation. with him on top of you, between your legs, filling you to the brim with his cock. it’s huge—bigger than you thought it’d be. no wonder those other girls come back for more.

you can’t talk anymore. the only noises leaving your lips are moans—signs of the pleasurable sensations rushing through your body. your vision is blurry and all you can think of is this moment that you’ve waited for. to be dicked down by your roommate.

perhaps you’re the pervert here.

“bratty attitude nowhere to be found, heh,” toji snickers while his hips ram against yours. flop flop flop — it’s embarrassing how much noise your wet cunt is making. you’re dripping on his sheets while he’s splitting you open. he’s doing it so, so well. he grabs both your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head, giving you no chance to touch him.

toji pants as his thrusts increase in speed. he can’t keep his eyes away from you. you’re beautiful underneath him like this, on his bed, your body a piece of art he wishes to admire every single night. he smirks, “all you needed was some dick to shut that mouth of y’rs up, huh?”

you’re humiliated by how cheap you made yourself seem. you don’t respond to the man’s words and just wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. toji grunts and slaps your thighs with his free hand, surprised by your actions, “fuck—didn’t know my roommate was such a slut in bed.”

your mouth hangs open. you’re sure you’re drooling by now. toji’s voice nearly becomes inaudible with how focused you are on the feeling of his cock. it’s hitting that right spot over and over again, the curve of his pink tip almost kissing your cervix.

“fffnghh, right there!” you moan loudly. you don’t care if the neighbours file noise complaints against you. they should’ve done so before, when toji had other women over. you remember how many times you had to put your earplugs in because your bastard of a roommate couldn’t keep it down.

the same bastard that’s fucking you so good right now. you can’t recall the amount of orgasms you’ve had already. toji didn’t even cum once and that’s only embarrassing you more. your inability to control yourself is pathetic. maybe not to toji though; he enjoys how easily he can make you spasm and squirt underneath him.

“i got’cha,” toji’s voice turns sweet for a split second once he sees how desperate you are for another mind blowing climax. if he knew you’d be this needy for him, he’d have taken you to bed long time ago.

“need you to say smthing f’me, ‘kay?” toji whispers and bites your earlobe, nibbling on it. his husky voice in your ear is like heaven. it makes you want to listen to whatever he has to say. you can hear the smirk in his voice when he increases his pace, “say that i don’t need to pay y’ back no more.”

you nearly choke on your own spit. toji is an asshole—manipulating your moment of weakness and vulnerability for his own benefit—and yet you allow him. you try to fight the urge to give in, but it’s too late.

“y-you don’t have to pay me back anymore,” you repeat with a whine and shake your head. it’s impossible to think rationally when you’ve got a fat dick all the way in your cunt, hitting all the right spots. your eyes roll back as you babble inaudible stuff in between moans, “promise, you don’t have to—mghhh!”

toji hisses at the feeling of you tightening up around him. you’re insatiable, wanting to continue until you’re able to milk every drop of cum out of his heavy balls. he’s never had a girl be so desperate for him. so dumb and easy.

“atta girl,” your roommate hums and moves his hands to lift your thighs. his inhuman pace only seems to increase with the change of positions. toji stares down at you from behind his black bangs, “no more whinin’ about money ‘n stuff, yeah?”

his gaze is a mix of pure lust and intimidation. you nod your head along to all he says, too cockdrunk to resist anything. you’re living the dream and you’re unwilling to ruin it, “y-yes, not gonna do it again.”

toji groans at the sound of your whiny voice. he’s going to make you addicted to him—that’s his ultimate goal. his hips slam against yours repeatedly, a slick trail of your fluids sticking to his pelvis, “shit, pussy’s sucking me in, princess.”

you can’t get enough of him and vice versa. the dark-haired man fails to keep his composure for a second, pushing his body weight on yours, caging you right against the mattress. he can’t stop his cock from throbbing each time it dives into your insides.

“gonna cum real deep in you,” toji grumbles. he’ll give you every drop, all the way into your womb. he’ll make you his woman for tonight and the many nights yet to come. if it’s left up to him, he’ll gladly fuck you like this every day, “be greedy ‘n take it all.”

you gasp and feel toji thrusting harder into your aching cunt. you didn’t think he’d be able to go faster. you mewl and scream about how good he feels, which only feeds toji’s big ego. he grips your thighs tightly, nails digging into the flesh.

“fuck!” white dots appear in your vision as you reach your peak once again. you feel like your heart stops beating for a second. you involuntarily start convulsing, legs shaking and hips bucking up to meet toji’s.

he hisses and closes his eyes, shooting his creamy load all the way inside of you. ropes of warm cum spurt out of his tip, filling your pussy like both of you have always imagined. he sighs and thrusts a couple more times, making sure no drop escapes your messy folds, “mhmmm, there we go, girl.”

you’re still dazed. you’re slack-jawed, your spit dripping down your chin. you’re more sleepy than ever. no one has made you feel this good in a while. toji watches you struggle to stay conscious and huffs proudly.

he rolls off you and lays down on his back, stretching his arms. he yawns—not bothering with aftercare at the moment. he’ll let you cool off first before he gets you a towel to clean up. toji tilts his head to the side and grins, “debt repaid.”

he’s said it so casually. you don’t notice what he’s implying until you’ve calmed down. your rationality comes back to you after a couple seconds, and when it does, your heart sinks to your stomach. your eyes widen as you recall what you’ve basically promised him.

you promised not to ask for the money he owes you ever again. oh, stupid you.

“wait—”

unfortunately for you, toji’s already snoring. his eyes are closed as he lays there like he hasn’t just rearranged your guts and manipulated you to say stuff you can’t take back. you scoff and rub your eyes, kicking your legs in frustration at your own naivety.

what a bastard.

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #jjk x you

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theoriginalkaminari · 6 months ago

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♧he went...that way...♧

Katsuki Bakugou x CheshireCat!reader

♤Reader can be any gender, reader has like cat ears and tail and stuff cuz...cheshire cat quirk ig, uhhhh this can be in like season 3, and him and reader are kinda in a situationship, and also I wrote this at 3am and was very sleepy, please don't judge about how shit it is💀🗿

◇Enjoy at your own risk

"Dammit.." Katsuki mutters as he walks through the forest outside of the U.A dorms. He grumbles to himself, looking behind trees and around bushes.

Katsuki got into a fight with Izuku, again, and Izuku ran off to get some distance from him, which made Katsuki chase him. So that leads Katsuki here, investigating the forest to find the green-haired boy.

"You can't hide forever, Deku!" Katsuki yells, cupping his hands around his mouth in hopes it would make his voice carry throughout the forest.

Katsuki's search is interrupted by a certain someone's mischievous giggle. Katsuki grumbles to himself, rubbing the bridge between his nose in annoyance.

"You'll never find him where you're going." You trease, lounging back on a long and thick tree branch as you stare down at him with a predatory gaze. You giggle again, rolling onto your stomach, tilting your head side to side. "You look so small from up here, so fragile!"

Katsuki glares up at you as you taunt him, watching as your tail flicks back and forth and side to side. You've always been a nuisance to him, always messing with him and making his life harder for a cheap laugh.

But he loves you anyway. You're lucky your cute.

His best bet was to just try and ignore you, so he tried to do that. Katsuki looks back at the path infront of him, continueing to stomp off, but he stopped when he heard footsteps behind him. He turns, only to see you mimicking his walk.

"SCRAM!" Katsuki growls at you, making you disappear with a laugh. Katsuki smirks, proud of himself for scaring you off. Just as he's about to move again, he sees footprints walking behind him, almost making him think Tooru was there, but he knew it was you messing with him again.

Katsuki lets out a surprised yelp when you lift him up by his waist, carrying him around like a suitcase. "Oi! Put me down, you mangy cat!" He exclaims, kicking his legs and gently punching your thigh. Katsuki squrims in your arms, trying to escape before you see the blush on his face.

"Alright~" You grin, holding him up above your head with ease, then drops him onto the ground. Katsuki falls down with a soft 'oof', then quickly stands up and dusts himself off. "How the hell do you do that?! I'm taller than you!" He says, glaring at you as you circle around him.

You move behind him and squish his waist, making him blush even more. "Why, its not my fault you have such a grabable waist." You retort, giving him a playful bite on his nape. "Why not stay a while? The rabbit is long gone, you won't catch him now." You tease, placing your chin on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.

Katsuki grumbles and clenches his fists, not wanting to give into you, but also really wanting for you to squeeze his waist again. "Whatever. Just tell me where Deku went already." Katsuki huffs, crossing his arms against his chest.

You grin, stepping infront of him and plastering on an innocent smile. "Why, of course!" You say sweetly, tilting your head to the side. You then point your arms in opposite directions, and can't help but grin mischievously. "He went," You begin as your eyes flick between left and right, not choosing a single direction. "That way."

Katsuki groans, covering his face with his hands. "You're such an ass! Fine! I'll find Deku myself!" He grumbles out, moving past you, storming off.

You grin, leaning back against nothing, yet keeping your balance perfectly as you stare at Katsuki's retreating figure. "Well, good luck. He went right, not left." You mutter to yourself, giggling mischievously. You grin again, ready to follow him again and continue to annoy the ash blonde.

#bnha #mha #Mha season 3 #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x male reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x male reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x male reader #katsuki x ftm!reader #katsuki x male reader #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you

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hyunebunx · 4 months ago

Text

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’ when you aren't dating but aren't just friends either (maknae line)

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff, a lot more angst and suggestive themes!!

⁺ 𖹭 . warnings: toxic relationship dynamics (not all of them)

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: hyung line here!! hope you enjoyy <33 pls let me know your thoughts in the comments/reblogs! <3

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧

Another jealous one. Honestly, in his case, you’re both jealous and it’s justified.

You guys go back and forth a lot. One minute you want him, the next you don’t and that really messes with Jisung’s head on a daily basis.

The line between friendship and something more is blurred here since you’ve done numerous things that have crossed it multiple times but unfortunately, neither of you knows how to handle that.

You: did you get home safe?

As expected, his reply came only a minute later since he was always glued to his phone.

Ji <3: yeah bin dropped me off

You: that’s good

You: did you have fun at the party? with that girl that was all over you?

You couldn’t help but bite down on your bottom lip as you hit send, suddenly overtaken by this indescribable feeling of anxiety. You could picture the reaction that simple question would get out of Jisung, the furrow of his eyebrows and the displeasure on his face clear as day in your mind.

Ji <3: y/n what the fuck

The three dots that indicated he was typing kept appearing and disappearing, almost like he couldn’t decide on a response, as taken aback as you thought he’d be. That went on for a few moments more before stopping altogether and next thing you knew, your phone lit up with an upcoming call. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself for another argument before sliding your finger on the screen to answer.

“What nonsense is your pretty little mouth sprouting right now, Y/n?” Came his slightly groggy voice, visibly exhausted after the long night he had had partying. No ‘hello’, no ‘baby’, even if he seemed calmer than you expected, Jisung was obviously aggravated by your behavior.

Moving the phone from one ear to the other, you tried to ease some of your anxiety by sitting down on the bed. “Nonsense? Jisung, you do know I received pictures of you and this random girl from three of my friends, right?”

Jisung let out a strained laugh, one that conveyed all of his anger. “What is this now? Did you stoop so low as to put your friends to spy on me when you’re not here?”

“Are you hearing yourself?” your voice got louder as all of your muscles grew tense. “I just asked you a fucking question, nobody was spying on you!”

You heard him exhale loudly on the other end, presumably rolling his eyes. “So, I’m not allowed to speak to people of the opposite gender now?”

A sigh escaped you at that, rolling your shoulders before letting yourself fall back against the many pillows, frowning.

“You know that’s not what I asked, Ji – “

“Oh, I know.” He cut you off, the argument giving him more energy. “You were just wondering if we fucked.”

With wide eyes, you sat up trying to defend yourself but his velvety voice interrupted once again.

“Don’t worry, you’re the only one I fuck at parties. The only one I fuck, in general.�� Even if these words were meant to reassure you, the tone of his voice did anything but that. “Any more questions or jealousy fueled craziness?”

You scoffed, your nerves slowly morphing into anger that threatened to bubble to the surface any second. The audacity to call you crazy and be bothered by your behavior when he usually lost his goddamn mind if a guy as much as breathed in your direction, was wild. This thing you and Jisung had wasn’t healthy, you could see it, and everyone in a 100-mile radius could see it. But the feelings that blossomed along the way felt too real, and intense for either of you to just call it quits, no matter how toxic your current dynamic was. Most of the time, you brought out the worst in each other, but you also felt like your best couldn’t even exist without him.

With another sigh, the man tried to redeem himself once he realized he might’ve taken it a bit too far, voice barely above a whisper as he softened up.

“I’ve been chasing after you to make you my girlfriend for months now, baby. Do you really believe I’d do something like that to us?”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧

No matter your relationship status, Felix treats you like you’re the most precious person in the world. No surprises here.

He’s so gentle and loving, the sight of you never fails to put a smile on his face. Wants to be near you all the time, always invading your personal space and clinging to you any chance he gets.

Hugs, lingering touches and not so innocent kisses. There’s a very strong longing for the other here.

Laughter could be heard as you and Felix were playfighting on the couch, skilled fingers tickling every spot you knew would make the other lose their mind. One of the perks of being such good friends was having easy access to each other’s weaknesses, making the tickle war fair on both fronts. Though you prided yourself on having many aces under your sleeve, Felix countered them easily each and every time.

“Just – “ Your sentence was cut off by another fit of laughter as Felix continued his attack, not even giving you the chance to speak. “Admit you cheated! You’re a cheater Lee Felix! I would have won that race fair and square if you wouldn’t have bombed me right at the finish line.”

Felix only laughed in response, not admitting anything as he continued to tickle your sides. His innocent mask always fooled you into forgetting that to his core, he was a notorious cheater who loved tricking others.

“Or maybe you’re just a sore loser.” He grinned, gently nudging your side to have you fall on the couch. Briefly stopping his tickle assault, he then moved to hover over you, smile turning into a smug, a little too arrogant, smirk.

The air shifted as he got even closer, one hand moving upwards your body until it reached your face. Your eyes met and his smirk dropped, not once looking away while he stopped at your jaw, his thumb sticking out to softly run over your lower lip. The gesture was so intimate and familiar as he never missed an opportunity to be affectionate, yet it still caused your heart to flutter and breath hitch in your throat momentarily. He always looked at you with eyes full of love and adoration and each time, you were willing to give him everything he desired and more.

Felix hummed, his already deep voice dropping even lower while he continued to maintain eye contact. “Who knew you took mario kart so seriously?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. His touch burned in the most pleasant way, leaving behind blooming flowers as strange as that sounded. That’s how being with Felix felt too. You felt love, passion, lust, comfort, all wrapped up in the pretty package that was him. Being with Felix felt like home.

That’s why, you took advantage of him getting lost in what he was doing to you before suddenly setting your hands on his shoulders in hopes of overpowering him, pushing his body back so you could be the one on top. With each knee on either side, you straddled him before leaning down and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. If Felix was surprised by the turn of events, he didn’t show it, hands finding your hips and resting there while gently caressing the skin.

It felt like fireworks going off on New Year’s when you kissed him, lips fitting together like they were made for each other. The plushness of his lips along with the taste of his tongue, of him – they all drove you insane.

Lee Felix might have been a filthy cheater when it came to any type of game, willing to deceive everyone just to win. But when it came to your relationship – whatever that was – you knew he would never be anything other than truthful.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧

He’s the sweetest when with you. No joke, the others usually complain about how you get special treatment from him because Seugmin is never that nice to them.

Has moments when he gets so gentle and lovey-dovey but as soon as someone points it out, he playfully pushes you away with a bashful smile, cheeks reddening by the second.

Can be a bit inconsiderate of your feelings sometimes.

The room was silent save for the tv that was quietly running in the background, the action movie long forgotten by Seungmin as you captivated all of his attention. His eyes were glued to your sleeping form in his lap, the pillow under your head along with the blanket on top ensuring you were most comfortable. One of his hands would sometimes reach out to fix the blanket while the other would soothe you back to sleep by caressing your head, leaning down to whisper sweet nothings in your ear if some of the guys got too loud. It was very peaceful for him, a serenity he didn’t usually get in his everyday life that only came along with you.

You were special to him, his feelings for you obvious to everyone around except for the person that mattered most. Because of that, he was usually reluctant to act on them but that was starting to get harder and harder each day, especially when you did things like right now. You were the picture of peace, away in dreamland while Seungmin was the complete opposite, a storm picking up inside of his mind.

He was confused. His gaze was filled with nothing but fondness as he once again looked down at you, happiness bubbling up inside of him and threatening to overflow to the surface any second. Yet as he kept staring, he could feel little knives puncturing his poor heart at the reminder that you were nothing more than friends, what you had purely platonic.

“Guys, look at Seungmin being a lovesick puppy.”

Jeongin’s voice came from his right and he immediately turned to the youngest with a glare, one that didn’t seem to do anything as his smile only grew in response. Shaking his head, Seungmin rolled his eyes before his gaze fell back to you, his hand now stroking your soft hair.

“Shh, Innie, don’t disturb our couple.” Hyunjin chimed in with a smirk of his own, quick reflexes helping him dodge the pillow Seungmin threw right at his face. Chan only chuckled under his breath from his place on the other sofa while Minho didn’t even glance up from his phone, absorbed in what was presumably an argument with his partner.

“Will you guys be quiet? Y/n’s sleeping.” His voice remained low yet the hostility in it was clear as day as he turned to look at his two troublemaker friends, glaring. He wasn’t in the mood for any teasing it seemed. “And stop calling us a couple. We aren’t together and we’ll never be so knock it off and let me enjoy the movie.”

The men stopped after that, not wanting to push their luck as they knew how scary Seungmin got when angry. But unknowing to them, you heard the whole thing, your heart falling all the way down to your stomach at his painful, careless words.

What was supposed to be a relaxing afternoon, ended up with you getting your heart broken by none other than Kim Seungmin himself, the guy you’ve been in love with since what felt like two lifetimes ago.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧

Did someone say childhood friends to lovers? Because I did.

You’re very comfortable around each other, knowing all of the other’s secrets and defining life events so when your relationship started to shift, you were none the wiser.

Has always loved you in some way, just isn’t aware of the fact that he’s actually in love with you.

“And you won’t believe what she said next!”

He chuckled, fox eyes following your every move as you continued to pace around in his room. “What did she say?”

Turning to him, you made a face before starting to mock one of your girlfriends. “Well Y/n, maybe if you got a boyfriend, you would understand why we can’t always bend over backwards for you!”

Jeongin gasped, hands moving up to his mouth pretending to be flabbergasted by what you just said, completely entertained by your antics. Being best friends for as long as you two have been, there was nothing unusual with you coming over to catch him up on the latest drama that was happening in your friend group. It was more or less a weekly tradition at this point.

“Can you believe that? She was blaming me for the fact that she was a shitty friend!”

He nodded, agreeing with your every word. “And not only that, but she was also boyfriend shaming you!”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Do you see the type of people I have to deal with now that you’re not here?”

Those last words made Jeongin’s shoulders fall as it all dawned on him; you were right – he was barely here nowadays, his busy schedule keeping him away from you and all he’s known for the majority of his life. He missed it, going out and goofing around with you and his school friends, having no real responsibilities other than doing some random homework and picking the place you’d hang out at after classes.

He missed you. So much that it physically hurts sometimes.

“Jeongin?”

At the sound of your sweet voice calling his name, he snapped out of it, eyes focusing on your form in front of him once again. Without a word, he then beckoned you closer with a finger and once you were in reach, he pulled you into his arms, a laugh escaping him as you gasped in surprise. Jeongin didn’t usually initiate physical contact so being pulled into an embrace like that, so out of the blue was really confusing for you. Nevertheless, your arms went around his neck while you melted into his hold, his own going around your waist innocently as you were now standing in between his legs.

“How about we make this girl eat her words, hm?” he smiled, looking up at you from his seat on the bed, chin resting just above your stomach.

Raising an eyebrow, your hands moved to comb through his dark locks. “How?”

It seemed that’s what he was waiting for as his smile turned into a smirk, eyes full of mischief at the plan he was silently cooking up.

“Let me be your boyfriend, your trophy man if you will.” Seeing the way your eyes widened and mouth dropped open, he squeezed your sides, shushing you. “I’m not done. I can pretend to be your boyfriend when she’s around, showering you with affection until she turns green with envy and realizes what a shitty friend she’s been. Or, until you drop her.”

Your mouth closed and he could see you contemplate his words, your lips pursed into a small pout. You looked kind of adorable from up close, not that he’d ever admit it.

With a nod, you agreed, your smile returning and lighting up your face for the first time in the hour you’ve been at his house.

“Alright, let’s do this!”

And then, next thing you knew, Jeongin stood up and suddenly, his lips were on yours.

tagging: @captainchrisstan

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lovely-peace · 9 months ago

Text

Embarrassing!

Summary: The marauders are popular in school, sure. But that doesn't mean that they are really nice. In the end you are just living the basic high-school experience.

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader

Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!

Part 2 Part 3

"You four back there, pull yourselves together now or I'll break you up!"

James' laughter could be heard all the way to the front, to my ears, along with the giggling of the girls next to me.

Great. So I must have been wrong again.

Professor McGonagall was now looking at me, teachingly. "To get back on topic. You have the right idea, but it's not quite that simple. To transform a body, it is of great importance…"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad. You weren't that far off the mark." Lily tried to comfort me. That was easy for her to say, she would never be wrong.

And the golden git Gryffindors would never make fun of her.

"Maybe."

"Evans, will you come here?" There stood the loverboy James, ready to have another go at her.

Lily rolled her eyes and smiled apologetically at me. "Don't take these idiots seriously, okay?"

With that, she walked in his direction, and did just that.

But I shouldn't be so hard on her because she was really trying to cheer me up, even though we're not really friends. She's clearly, well, more present than my friend Amy and me.

Amy was Gryffindor just like me, but didn't have transfiguration. She called the subject "A walking unnecessary babble".

Oh how I wish I had thought that when I chose my subjects.

I could still see Sirius grinning as James talked to Lily, Remus just stood there ashamed and Peter patted him on the shoulder.

Sirius noticed my look and whispered something to Remus, who flinched and turned away. I snorted.

Sirius' laughter was still ringing loudly in my ears, long after I had escaped to Amy's and my dorm.

"Well, I think they're really annoying. That's all." Amy pushed a plate of dinner towards me. She immediately realized something was wrong and I wasn't ready to go to dinner. I was very glad she was so good at the invisibility spell.

"Yes, but everyone likes them. Even Lily likes the four of them, even though she's always upset about them!" I groaned loudly and accepted the plate gratefully.

Amy looked at me with a smile. "Well, I don't really like them. They're entertaining, but I think they lack empathy."

"I think they're all stupid ego centers who only make themselves so important because they actually feel so bad about themselves." I took a big bite.

"And yet you can't stop talking about the four of them." Amy was grinning now. "I thought you said the other day that 'Remus isn't actually that bad and nice to talk to'?"

I almost choked at the mention of meeting the quieter boy of the group. It had been three months since we had met and talked in the library.

"That was something else. He just watches and lets the others get away with everything." I quietly turned to my food and Amy dropped the subject.

Oh, how I hated this cycle. Getting up. Eating at a house table where I know everyone and yet no one really. Subjects in which I will eventually make a mistake. Skipping meals to avoid the stares. Sleeping.

Hogwarts isn't that different from other schools. The same faces making fun of the same things. But we're all supposed to be adults soon, aren't we?

I should stop before I sound like an angsty teen.

Breakfast. New day, same course. I sat down opposite Amy and a laugh escaped my lips at one of her jokes.

But then another girl sat down next to me. Marlene McKinnon.

"Hey, you two, how are you?" she smiled, but something made me uncomfortable.

"Good, good." Amy laughed. "And you?"

"Oh, just fine." Marlene looked at my plate as if to check something. Suddenly I felt uncomfortable having a few chocolate cookies in the morning.

She turned to me. Oh no.

"Hey, this might be a bit sudden, but I'd like to know something." There was this twinkle in her eye that I didn't like at all.

I looked at Amy, who just shrugged her shoulders.

"Okay?" Very carefully. Don't make any big mistakes.

"If you had to date someone from Gryffindor, who would it be?"

I looked confusedly at Amy, who had to pull herself together not to burst out laughing.

"What?"

Marlene shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I was just a bit curious as I've never seen you in a relationship with anyone before."

I saw her eyes twitch briefly to the right. When I looked in that direction, not very inconspicuously, I saw Sirius whispering something to James. He grinned at Remus in response.

Oh.

"Well, I can't really think of anyone right now, sorry Marlene."

She looked at me in surprise and wanted to say something, but Amy gasped in shock. Shocked, she clutched her chest. "After everything we've been through!" she didn't exactly say that quietly. To my dismay, quite a few heads turned towards us. Including the idiots.

"Amy-" I began, but she talked herself into her theater rage. "Hush! I don't want to hear any excuses! I thought we were something special! But no. In the end, I'm just another one of the many picks that will never be taken." She stood up. She skillfully looked away and took in the audience. "I can reassure you. I was prepared for all of this."

"Amy, it's not what you think!" I played along a little now. "I couldn't be so open about something so… Say something like that!"

Amy furrowed her brow. "Girl, no homo."

The Gryffindor table laughed and we fled the room.

Outside, we also laughed a bit, but Amy quickly composed herself.

"Did you see how he looked at you?"

I furrowed my brow. "Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Remus, of course."

"Maybe it's because you made a big show," I said playfully, heading towards our next class.

"Hmm, but I think then he wouldn't have looked at you so longingly-"

"Amy!"

"With red cheeks and big heart eyes!" I walked faster while she laughed.

"That's all nonsense. Marlene only asked because one of those idiots requested it."

Amy looked at me confused. "Why would they do that?"

"Oh, they were looking at us too. And yesterday they were whispering among themselves. They probably find me really funny."

Amy became very quiet after that.

The only sounds were our footsteps and voices in the distance.

"You know," Amy began quieter than usual. "It's not like it used to be. We're all slowly growing up. We're not the odd ones out anymore. I think," she took a deep breath. "That the four of them won't make fun of us, of you, anymore."

How much I wished I could believe that. But I won't be able to, even if Remus talks to me in the library or Peter asks me if I like certain creatures.

Because in the end, I gave up on that a long time ago.

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #high school

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plasticferal · 1 year ago

Note

can u plsss write a Matt smut where the reader is like obsessed with his teeth and then she kind of jokes ab licking his teeth but shes not actually joking and then u know the rest

take it or leave it | matt sturniolo.

authors note: this was so fun to write. here’s some kind of soft, lust filled bff!matt turned lovers.

warnings: fem reader, not obscene or 18+ but read at your own discretion. a lot of dialogue, light biting, mark leaving, explicit language.

you just can't stop staring at your best friend. all he's doing is chewing on a paper straw, swirling it around his soft drink. his eyes are glued to his screen, scrolling through his phone, both of his elbows planted on the dining table.

"i can feel you staring," matt talks with the straw still in his mouth, flashing his perfect teeth with a conceited smirk. you scoff, digging your fork back into the dessert that sits in front of you, to avoid the interrogation you feel coming your way.

"i didn't say stop," you feel his eyes burn holes into you, tone earnest and deep, just waiting for you to glance up at him again.

"wasn't even staring," you speak through a muffled mouthful of cake, not caring if he sees the food in your mouth. he's the closest person in your life, he's probably seen worse.

"real sexy, kid" he teases, staring at your mouth and chuckling as you cover it to swallow your food, flipping him off from across the table.

"no for real, what were you looking at? like be specific," he asks, placing his phone screen down on the table, shuffling in his chair and adjusting his posture. you raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what the hell he's on about.

"i can't just admire my best friend?" you sarcastically smile and bat your eyelashes at him, resting your chin into the palm of your hands.

"specifics, go." matt isn't having it, and you drop the act fast.

you ponder on your answer for a moment, or at least pretend to. you know exactly what you want to say but you don't need him getting a big head. well, bigger. he's a walking, talking, humble brag. especially around you.

"ah, okaaaay," you pout your lips with contemplation.

"your eyes i guess. they're pretty. you know that, though" you shrug, prodding at your dessert again, not having any intention on finishing it at this point. matt has you cornered with his new train of thought.

"boring, next." he deadpans, throwing his head back with an eye roll before looking at you again. he folds his arms over his chest, leaning back leisurely.

"fine. ah, your teeth. i'm like obsessed with them. is that a better answer?" you quip, grabbing your plate and pushing away from the table to make your way to the sink.

you hear matt behind you let out an audible "huh?" and can picture the confusion on his face. you don't know what it is about his teeth, or his smile in general. you just get stunned at how perfect they are, the way they just suit his face so much.

they just look like they could form the perfect bite in your skin. he's always chewing a new flavoured gum, flashing them subtly past his perfectly pink lips, and his breath always smells nice. it's weirdly inviting. all thoughts you absolutely shouldn't be having about matthew.

"hang on, rewind. my teeth?" there's an amused underlining to his response, and you just wish you could take back what you said, joke or not.

you rinse the plate off and immediately ignore him, drying your hands with paper towel before bee-lining for the bin in the small dark corner of the room.

"you got your answer, matthew. get over it," you exhale, tossing it into the black rubbish bag.

"no no, i'm not done with you yet," you hear his chair make a disturbing scratchy squeak against the vinyl floors with how fast he pushes his chair back, following where your body is moving.

you walk around the dining table in the opposite direction of him, but he changes directions to match yours. you collapse onto the couch, sitting cross legged and he falls into the spot right next to you, despite having the entire couch. your shoulders are touching and his knee his touching yours.

"you were staring at my teeth and now i need to know why," matt requests, leaning one elbow up on the back of the couch, facing you completely.

"i can't answer tha-"

"y/n" he cuts you off seriously.

"i don't know, okay? drop it, matthew." you push back with frustration, not understanding why he can't. it's either he's pushing your buttons on purpose or he can sense the subject easily taking a turn in a different direction.

"i'm not trying to piss you off. i just wanted know. sorry" his voice softens, and he shifts so he's facing the t.v.

you almost feel bad snapping at him, considering you instigated his reaction in the first place by not justifying it straight away.

you bite your nails, trying to avoid talking. it's so hard with matt. he just always brings it out of you. looking at him while he watches the screen ahead of you just makes you yearn to hear his voice again. he's so quiet for the most part that when you get him out of his shell you don't ever want him to stop.

"i've always liked your teeth. i don't know what it is. i wish i could explain it but i can't," you speak shyly, a very rare feeling around him.

you have literally shared every waking thought with this man. it just feels so different when it involves him personally. on a physical descriptive level. matt leans his head back on the massive couch cushion, giving you a lazy half grin, looking up at you through hooded eyes.

"do you just like staring at them or do you wanna like, touch them?" he flashes his teeth like a vampire, and you push his face away with a laugh, knowing he's teasing with good intention. he chuckles, pushing your own hand back into your body.

"you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"not until i can wrap my head around it, no" he folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits and they disappear under his oversized hoodie, snickering at his own defence.

he looks you in the eyes, the same fiery stare he gives you when he's about to say something out of pocket, you can read him like a book.

"you wanna touch 'em?"

"matt," you scold, knowing whatever he has planned is just to keep this joke lingering. or what you think is a joke to him.

"i'm serious, let's see if we can get to the bottom of this little fetish of yours" he's so pleased with his words, grinning like an idiot as he nestles his face closer to yours.

"i'd get more pleasure out of it with my tongue," you chortle, then pause suddenly, not believing what you just said out loud.

you force your face to plaster a look on it that says 'i'm joking' but there's no part of what you just said that matt is taking comically.

"go on." matt replies.

"what's gotten into you, tonight?" you have a half simper half befuddled look as you lean back to make sure you're seeing him right.

making sure you're speaking to matt, not someone posing as him with how bold and absurd he's been acting for the past few minutes. he's always being flirtatious, in a bantering and unalloyed manner. this felt different, he's being a lot more direct. a lot less blithe.

"i am literally giving you one chance to do this and then i'm never bringing it up again. take it or leave it, y/n"

"open your mouth, then.” you say in a ‘i bet you won’t’ tone, not believing he actually will. you’re taken aback when he tilts his head up lightly, an innocent look on his face when he parts his mouth, creating a perfect oval.

“you’re seriously okay with this?” you ask, beginning to lean forward, tempting and just waiting for the moment he pulls away, or snaps his mouth closed. he nods, mouth still open.

you know him well enough by now to understand that when matt says he’ll never mention it again, he means it. he’s petty like that.

“fuck it, m’god” you mumble, cupping the side of his jaw, fingertips resting under his ear and being tickled by his hair, pulling him to you.

your breaths intertwine as you hover over his mouth, your lips don’t touch when you poke your tongue out and let it slide behind his top teeth and trail across the sharp edge, slowly, left to right. when you pull away, you observe him.

matt closes his mouth, sucking his teeth and plastering a thoughtful look on his face. you wait for his response.

“well?” you can only wait for so long before you’re trying to entice him to say something, anything.

he adjusts himself on the lounge, full body facing you at this point, if he was pushed up any closer he’d be on top of you.

“just like, out of curiosity. can you do it again?” he asks bashfully. he did say take it or leave it. so you take it, while he’s dangling it in front of you.

this time, you curve your hand gently around the back of his neck to guide his face. tilting your head slightly before pulling him in. you lick the back of the teeth again, even slower than the first time. you can feel matt holding his breath, and the taste of the root beer he just had still lingering.

matt takes a deep breath when you part from him again, flaring his nostrils slightly and sucking on the inside of his cheek. he looks confused, in a content way. but confused nonetheless.

you stare at him, memorising this look on his face. without breaking his stare with you, matt reaches for a pillow and throws it over his lower body, holding it in place. before he has a chance to set it onto his lap, you glance down to see the bulge forming under his black shorts.

“did you like my tongue in your mouth, matthew?” your words are jovial, but he turns away from you after you question him, looking quite literally anywhere else.

“no-i,i mean. fuck, i don't know. no." he rambles, response being faster than his brain can even register, not pulling out the best choice of words from his vocabulary.

“no? is that why you let me do it twice?” you tease, turning the table on him.

"you're right," he pauses.

"maybe we should make it three. for good luck." he looks back at you with a red hue on his cheeks, simpering smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he hugs the pillow on his lap.

"only if you ask nicely," you squint your eyes, and he rolls his.

"i'm not beggin' for it. no way." he shakes his head, boston accent coming through a lot thicker when he's defensive. it happens a lot, and that's how you know you have him cornered.

"your call, matty. take it or leave it." the front you're putting on for him is a fraud, having a gut feeling that it's the only cue he needs to surrender. he's silent for a solid minute.

"fuck, jesus, okay." he finishes, grabbing your face this time. he caresses your jaw, and his touch is so firm and so warm.

the pillow between your bodies is like a barrier, but he pushes up against it hard to bring you as close to his face as you can. you brace yourself for him to open his mouth again, but instead, your lips collide.

your eyes close instinctively and his soft, wet lips move with yours, taking your bottom lip between the kiss, and letting his tongue slide in and dance across your own. slowly he pulls away, fluttering inches over your mouth instead of distancing himself.

"i don't know, i don't know why i just-" matt is still touching your face through his panic-stricken words.

you don't even counter his sentence before grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him back to your mouth. you shove the pillow off the lounge in-between your bodies with your knee while shifting your body weight onto his lap, an easy transition considering how close you've been the whole time.

matt grabs your waist immediately, securing you on top of him and deepening the kiss. you feel your throat shake with his small, desirous moan into your mouth. you sink all of your body weight onto him and can feel his dick underneath you growing harder, heat radiating from between his legs.

the kiss becomes heavier, more desperate and messy, missing each others mouths and clashing your teeth, taking breaths for a split second before attacking each other's lips again. your nails dig into his shoulders and matt's hands lower, stationing on your upper thigh.

you're in such a state of disbelief but ignore every doubt or worry you're forcing yourself to have. you've mentally convinced yourself this is a dream. you're not actually grinding into your bestfriend's groin, making out with him and having his thumbs get closer and closer to your heat, feeling wet already at the friction.

matt kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek bone, the tip of your nose, then your jaw. he trails the kisses on your jaw lower and lower, grazing his teeth along your delicate skin until he reaches he crease of your neck just under your ear, and you lean into him as much as you possibly can.

"you like my teeth so much, wait until you see what they can do to your neck," he forces deeply against your skin, biting at your earlobe.

"god, matt," you exhale.

you feel a sharp, stinging suck to your neck, making you gasp. he pulls your skin into his mouth, tongue rubbing the area that he's suffocating in his bite. he pulls away, making a sharp sound when he lets go. he repeats the same thing just underneath his first bite, and your body is twisting and distorting in his arms. you tug at his hair with a warning.

"you’re gonna have to explain those marks." you tremble, yet not stopping him. he taunts a stifled laugh.

"don't care," he starts, pulling your shirt off your shoulder and sucking another deep purple mark on your collar bone.

"i'll spell my name out on your skin if i have to." it’s like he’s a trance, trailing his middle finger along the bites he just left before looking up at you with a dazed smile.

his chest is rising and falling prominently, both of you catching your breath after the intense session. matt gently presses his lips to yours again, and you lean your forehead against his. he grips at the bottom hem of your shirt, toying with the fabric.

"if i knew my teeth would get you on top of me, i would have let you lick em' sooner," he has a crooked, dopey grin on his face. you blush, flustered at his words.

"is this is insane? you don't think you're gonna regret it?" you're cautious with your words, voice gentle, head still leaning against his and your fingers playing with the hair creeping on the nape of his neck.

"i could never regret you." he shakes his head softly, making you smile and peck another gentle kiss on his lips. you know he means his words, and they make you want to melt into a puddle.

"smile for me quickly," you banter, holding onto his shoulders but pulling back to look at his face properly.

he covers his face with his big hands and you let out a hearty laugh, attempting to pry them off and begging him to stop hiding.

"matt! you'll let me shove my tongue down your throat but can't smile for me?" your stomach hurts with the laughter caused by the sheer fight he's putting up covering his face.

when you finally get him to drop his hands he has the biggest, cheesiest grin on his face. smiling ear to ear, and eyes closed shut, putting on a show for you. he drops his face quickly once you've had your time to look, and has those signature tired and heavy eyes make an appearance once again.

you lean in, slowly, so slow. your face is drawing him in like a magnet, him following your moves to meet in the middle. he flashes his teeth once again, and you run the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip, feeling his teeth too, budging his mouth open.

"now you're just taking advantage of it," his raspy voice speaks, pulling you back to his mouth by your neck and leading with his tongue, letting it slide in and moaning into your parted lips. they finally sink into each others after teasing each other, seeing who falls into the kiss first.

your tongues fight for dominance and matt grabs the back of your neck hard, forcing you to stay where you are. you're tilting left and he's tilting right as you focus on breathing through your nose to stay attached to each other as long as you can.

you can literally feel matt take his time to explore your mouth, circling every inch he possibly can. he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard, making you gasp before pulling back and letting go, both of your mouths wet and glistening with each others saliva.

matt wipes your mouth with his thumb, applying enough pressure but still being gentle. he's staring at your skin before his eyes fixate on those marks he left earlier.

"oh fuck, they're pretty bad" he giggles, and you roll off his lap with a groan, slapping your hand over your neck as if to hide them from him. your legs drape over his thighs and you can feel him looking at you.

you hide from him by sinking into the lounge for no good reason other than you think somehow it'll make the marks disappear, or manifest that it does.

"i didn't even bring makeup to cover it," you fake cry, seeing how bad it could make him feel, but he doesn't budge. matt slaps your thigh as if to say 'i'm not buying it' then rubs your legs soothingly.

"you're not covering them up. i won't let you leave the house if you do, no other option." matt is demanding but lighthearted in his words.

"oh no, i can't leave, what a shame," you dramatically flail your hand to your temple like an old school movie scene, and matt pokes your rib to get you to snap out of it.

"if you ever want to see my teeth again i'd watch the dramatics, honey" and those words coming from him alone make you cut the act, flushing red and sitting up properly.

you don't know how he's managed to whip you into line, usually being the other way around, but you're not risking it.

you've somehow taken more than you could ever ask for from him, and you're still anxious that you've bitten off more than you can chew. no pun intended.

regardless, you're in ignorant bliss. you'll take everything you can get from matt, and more, if he's willing to give it to you. which at this point, you're sure he is.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

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fgumi · 1 month ago

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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; agent!jungwon x tsa!reader, GENRE; action, one shot, WC; 9.3k, WARNING(S); profanities, terrorism, A/N; the original plot of carry on pmo so i decided to write one that wouldn't (it still kind of does). it's a little more focused on you as a tso, so don't be too disappointed now. officially dropped on 250109 @ 03:05! hope you enjoy, TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou @bamguetismee @jnysaln @dreamiestay @nvrlndmylove @letwiiparkjay @theothernads @wonys-won @dksfml @kitty-won07 @starfallia @sugarikiz @heartheejake @regalfox @m1kkso @ribbioniki @wensurr @wonys-won @wonkixo }

The sound of your alarm clock jolted you awake, its incessant crying reminding you that you had a long day of work ahead of you. For a moment, you made no move to get up, squeezing your eyes tightly as you rubbed your face into your pillow, savoring the warmth tucked under your blanket. It was New Year’s Eve—which meant children throwing tantrums or adults throwing tantrums like children—and you were so tempted to call out, your TSA uniform glaring at you from where you threw it last night.

With a groan, you reached out to silence the alarm, blindly slapping your nightstand until you felt your phone. You glanced at your phone, momentarily blinded by its brightness, and checked the time. 4:31 AM. God, it was early.

You gave yourself a good stretch, enjoying the momentary high from the blood rushing to your brain, before throwing yourself out of bed. You shuffled toward the bathroom, the cold tiles waking you up a bit more. When you flicked the light on, tired was all you could see on your face. The three years with the TSA really wore on you—dull skin, dark circles, no smile lines.

Oh, how you were itching to text your supervisor that you were sick. You should be sleeping in, prepping yourself for parties and, maybe, a New Year’s kiss. But life had a way of going the absolute opposite direction of what you wanted.

Straight out of college, unlike your friends who got return offers from their internships, you were eagerly awaiting to hear back from the FBI. Becoming a profiler had always been the plan, no matter how unrealistically it began. (You may have had the world’s biggest crush on Spencer Reid. But who didn’t?) You majored in criminal psychology just to prep yourself for your career. You were hopeful; all your professors said you were more than inclined to your chosen career path—you were born to be a profiler.

So, when the rejection email reached your inbox, the world was spinning. It sounded like the birds were laughing at you. Oh, you wanted to be an FBI agent? Oopsies, dream harder next time.

Your rejection left you to spiral until your friend, Jake, suggested you both work for the TSA at LAX. It wasn’t the best alternative to your dream job, but it was as close as you were gonna get.

Now, here you are sitting on the employee commuter bus, bumping shoulders with familiar people that you’ve seen on the very same bus for the past three years. The silence used to be eerie, going from rambunctious college students talking every chance they got to coworkers who were trying to squeeze a little extra shut-eye before their long days started.

When the bus rolled to a stop, you gave the driver a nod of gratitude and trudged your way through the backrooms. Everyone you passed by gave you a wave, which you returned, still too tired to manage any words. You walked into the TSA locker rooms and shoved your bag in, moving quick to make the meeting.

You slipped inside and took a seat toward the back. You felt a slap on your back. Wincing in shock, you turned to see Jake beaming at you.

“Hey, grumpy,” Jake said, bumping your shoulder with his as he sat by you. “You should be happier. The year’s almost over!”

You rolled your eyes. “As if 2025 is going to be any better than 2024. We’re gonna be sitting here with the same jobs, same pay, same life.”

“That’s by choice,” a new voice chimed. You glanced over to your right and saw Jay settle down next to you. “I got here a little later than both of you and I’ve had two promotions. I’d say you’re the one who wants to keep the same job.”

Jake shrugged. “It pays the bills just fine, and I’m looking to avoid any responsibilities for as long as I can.”

A chuckle left Jay as he sipped his coffee. “And you, Y/N? You really content where you’re at?”

You pursed your lips. Of course, you weren’t. But life never goes your way, so why bother trying to change that? Before you could respond, your supervisor began the day-shift meeting.

“Good morning, day shift TSOs. Good morning being more of a wishful thought ‘cause today is going to be another rough day for everyone. You sad, sad souls are spending your New Year’s Eve with me and about 200,000 eager—and, I mean, eager—travelers. As usual, these very anxious passengers will probably take their shitty emotions out on you. So, what do we say to that?”

“Enjoy your holidays,” everyone droned.

Your supervisor nodded with satisfaction. “Exactly. We’re not taking their bait, and we’re going to make sure everyone flies happy and safely. Capisce? All right, dismissed. Stay alert. Stay vigilant. And we’ll all make it out of here okay.”

The rest of your coworkers returned to their lockers, strapping up for their shifts. Jay and Jake followed you into the break room as you poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Look, if you guys do want a change in 2025, I’ll go to bat for you. It should be no problem, considering you’ve both worked here for 3 years,” Jay offered.

Jake grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll remember that for when I decide to become a full-fledged adult.”

Snickering at Jake’s reluctance to grow up, you sipped your coffee, almost groaning at the nice caffeine boost the liquid was promising.

“What about you, Y/N? Wanna switch up your 2025?” Jay asked curiously.

A change did seem appealing to you. However, you somehow doubted the promotion would go through. Life seemed to like playing with your emotions.

“I doubt Owens is gonna promote me,” you said pointedly. “I’m pretty sure he hates me ever since the Christmas party two years ago.”

Jay rounded to face you directly, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You trust me, right?”

You paused, acting as if it were a difficult question, before caving at Jay’s falling face. “Of course I do.”

He smiled. “Then, come with me to my meeting with Owens. Officer Smith is also going to be a part of it, and you know how he loves you.”

With two people backing you, surely life couldn’t mess this up. You nodded slowly, making Jake whoop and Jay shake you in excitement. “2025 is your year, Y/N. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, yeah, when’s the meeting?” A smile threatened to break your calm facade at the building hope of rebelling against fate. Jay checked his watch and looked at you. “Now, apparently.”

He turned you around and guided you to your supervisor’s office. “You got this, Y/N!” Jake hollered behind you.

Gosh, why were you so nervous? You’d never brought up a promotion before. But, it was like Jay said, right? Three years with no write-ups or negative reviews. No way he rejects it.

“Nope.”

Your jaw went slack, and any shrivel of hope that you had died. Jay looked just as shocked. Hell, even Officer Smith looked shocked.

“But, sir, Y/N’s an amazing TSO and has been with the TSA for three years with no complaints,” Jay sputtered.

Owens sighed. “Ask me on a different day. We’re expecting heavy foot traffic and I want leads on the scanners. I can’t afford any mishaps today.”

You didn’t know what it was. Was it anger at his easy dismissal? Was it frustration from the endless obstacles in your life? Whatever it was, it made you speak up. “With all due respect, sir, I’m more than capable of working the scanner. I ranked first in threat assessment, and I can spot a fake better than the officers.” Officer Smith seemed like he wanted to be offended but decided that it was true, nodding with you.

“I’m willing to prove it too. I’ll even put my job on the line. One mistake, you can fire me,” you huffed, shoulders rolled back.

Your supervisor peered down his nose at you, heavily contemplating. “The leads are on the scanners today. We don’t have the manpower to open another lane for you.”

“Give her my spot,” Jay interjected. He looked at the drawing board before shifting around the names. “That’ll free up a lead to work between D and E, keep us from bottlenecking.”

You sent a look of gratitude Jay’s way, then looked at Owens. It felt like days before he answered. “Alright, let’s see what you got.”

Suppressing your excitement, you gave him a stout nod. “Won’t let you down.”

When Owens dismissed the three of you, Jay threw his arm around your shoulder. “Looks like your 2025 is setting up to be a great year.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand that was hanging off your shoulder. “It’s thanks to you,” you said warmly.

He shook his head and ruffled your hair. “That was all you.”

You two returned to Jake with the good news, who yelled with joy, getting a couple of startled looks from your coworkers. Jay waved them off apologetically and slapped Jake upside the head, scolding him for being so loud. Man, did it feel good to finally have something go your way.

The signal to head to your stations rang, pushing the three of you to move out. As you moved past all the barrier dividers, Jake and Jay filed to their sections, wishing you luck.

You approached the scanners with a little pride in yourself. You nodded at your coworker and sat, logging on. You flipped the switch, and just like that, your trial promotion began.

Passengers loaded up their belongings in bins and let the belt carry them through the machine, allowing you to check for any discrepancies. After a couple of minutes, you felt more comfortable, settling deeper into your seat.

“Excuse me!”

You leaned away from the monitors to see a cute man smiling at you. God, was he all sunshine and rainbows for someone flying early.

“This isn’t mine,” he said, wiggling one of the smaller bins. You stopped the machine and approached him, taking the bin to see a curious earpiece. You glanced from the earpiece to the man. What the hell did he want you to do with this?

“Um, I’ll put this in the lost and found,” you said awkwardly. He just grinned at you before walking off. But as he walked away, your phone chimed.

Right ear. Do it now. Discreetly.

You gingerly inserted the ear comm into your right ear, static crackling until a voice spoke.

“Hello, Y/N. Listen very carefully. I need your help.”

Your lips quirked before you glanced around, trying to find your coworker. “Nice accent, Jake. I hope your mixtape is better than your prank or I’m getting rid of your special Australian coffee.”

“Jake is in lane one, auditioning for Korea’s Got Talent.” You turned and saw Jake dancing on top of a cart. “Looks like he might have a shot.”

Your eyes darted around to the other lanes and came up short. You couldn’t find the source of the voice.

He spoke again. “Just relax, Y/N. I need you to keep the line moving, so let’s head back to your seat, okay?”

You made eye contact with your supervisor, who peered at you suspiciously. Oh, crap. Quickly, you returned to the scanner and resumed the line. As the conveyor belt whirled to life, you shifted in your seat nervously.

“My name’s Special Agent Jungwon with the FBI. Be very careful with your reactions. Soon, there will be a man with some dangerous luggage moving through your line with a boarding pass for Korean Air 958 non-stop to Seoul. I need you to let him through,” Jungwon said.

You scoffed lightly. “That’s a joke, right? Why would an FBI agent want me to let a threat through?” You fidgeted with the scanner, manipulating the image of luggage on your screen to inspect the contents. Your attention flicked between the screen and beyond it, sorting through people strolling through the airport. Where could he be?

“It’s not a joke. I’m technically undercover as a mercenary that gets the job done, and the man I’m going to arrest is my client. I’m at the bar in Chili’s, by the way. I want you to see my air quotes.”

You zeroed in on the chain restaurant and saw the lone blond man in a black leather jacket. You could only see his broad back as he did air quotes with his left hand. Then, he continued to eat something. Fries?

“The man carrying the luggage isn’t the target. We believe he’s being threatened by the individual we’re trying to catch to be his pack mule. The man we’re trying to catch has already made it through TSA.”

He’s already in? Your heart began to race as you returned your attention to your job. “What’s in the bag?”

He hummed contemplatively. “That’s more of a need-to-know. The less you know, the easier it’ll be for you to act normal when the carry-on passes through.”

As the bins of items passed by your screen, you pressed your lips flat. “I think I have a pretty good poker face.”

“Very true. I bet you’re a nightmare to play poker with,” he jabbed playfully. “Okay, I’ll tell you. It’s a weapon.”

You huffed in disbelief. “No shit, Sherlock. We wouldn’t be playing telephone otherwise. What’s the weapon?”

You could hear him chuckle before he resumed munching on his fries. “Feisty. I can see why the FBI really didn’t want to let you go.”

You paused. How does he know about that?

“It’s a nerve agent—atrocious biochemical weapon, really—attached to a bomb. Or, at least, that’s what we’re guessing,” he replied. “According to the chatter, they’re planning to make a big boom in the sky. I guess they wanted bigger fireworks.”

You froze, tension blanketing every muscle fiber. “A bomb?”

“Don’t forget the nerve agent,” he tutted, chewing through his food. Those damn fries were starting to get on your nerves. If you wanted a mukbang ASMR while you worked, you would’ve chosen Tzuyang’s videos.

You got up to push the backed-up bins down the line. Your thoughts raced. A fucking bomb in the Los Angeles airport? You knew you should’ve called off today.

You could almost feel the cold glass of liquid going down your own throat as Jungwon took a gulp before speaking again. “What a way to spend New Year’s Eve, am I right? All these people rushing home to see their families, and you get to play agent like you’ve always wanted. Guess Santa came late this year.”

Your ears twitched. Again, how does he know about that? “You seem to know a lot about me, Special Agent.”

“Well, it’s not hard to look up a government worker. Pretty mild three years for you, huh? What—you applied, got rejected, and realized being a Level One TSA agent was your dream?” Jungwon prodded.

Your boots clacked heavily against the floor as you sat behind the monitor once again. You couldn’t help but glance at Jungwon, curious about what this irritating man’s face looked like.

“Just seemed like there was no point,” you murmured, analyzing the contents of the bags on screen. “If my aptitude tests didn’t get me in the first time, what would?”

Jungwon tsked, wiping the salt off his fingers. “Your aptitude tests. They were good—no, beyond good. You were a top scorer in almost every category except physical. No, I understand you. If near-perfect scores didn’t push you through, nothing could. If it helps you any, they had a real hard time choosing. I have the notes right in front of me.”

You paused. If they had such a hard time, why didn’t they just accept your application? You were bitter, of course. It was your dream, and they just rejected you—no explanation. Their email didn’t even have the corny “we wish you the best in your endeavors.” It seemed like they didn’t care if you applied again or not.

“Yeah? What does it say?” you asked, reserved.

“That you would be a damn good agent. I mean, wow. Did you really decipher the code in four minutes?” Jungwon whistled, impressed with what he was reading. “You set a record.”

You wanted to scoff. Set a record, and they let you go. That doesn’t really give you much hope. “Let’s get back to the real reason why we’re even talking.”

“Okay, still a bit of a sore spot for you. Noted. From what we’ve gathered, they’re exchanging hands right before they get on the flight. Apparently, the bomb has a failsafe code that only the man of the hour knows. He puts it in, and the bomb’s live.”

“That’s stupid. Is he trying to make himself a martyr?”

“Why, yes. Yes, he is. You’re quick. I think I’m going to like working with you, Agent Y/N,” Jungwon smiled, looking down at his half-eaten plate.

“Not an agent,” you bit back. They wouldn’t let you become one, you wanted to say. You let it rest on your tongue instead.

“If we catch the guy with no casualties, I’ll give you a stellar recommendation,” Jungwon chirped. “Now, look alive. I think our guy’s approaching.”

Your head whipped to see a tall man with headphones draped around his neck. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was another traveler just rushing to get to his gate. His shifty eyes told you otherwise.

“So, I just let him through?” you muttered, watching him place the carry-on on the belt.

Jungwon hummed. “Yes, ma’am. If you do anything but that, the man we’re closing in on will bolt.”

Pause. You felt stupid. Who’s to say Jungwon is who he says he is? What if he’s the terrorist? He could’ve gotten your application documents by hacking the system. You glanced at your coworker, who was focused on his own monitor, and then at Jungwon. Fuck. Where’d he go?

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m just making my way to your supervisor to give him a heads up,” Jungwon reassured. Your eyes trailed over to Owens, who was indeed talking to a blond man in a leather jacket.

When your supervisor looked over at you, you ducked your head and returned your focus back to the scanner.

Lo and behold. The carry-on was present on your screen. You leaned closer to stare at the mechanics. From what you could tell, the detonator was small, but it was linked to a block covered in small vials. C4 and the nerve agent was your guess. You let it pass your screen despite the glaring messages advising you to inspect the luggage.

You kept watching the suitcase until its owner picked it up just as carefully as he had placed it. He made eye contact with you. His eyes widened slightly before he looked away, a shaky hand extending the handle to drag it away. You were torn. On one hand, if you prevent this bomb from even getting near a plane, you could end this here. But, on the other hand, if what Jungwon said was true, you could be jeopardizing the lives of more people by letting a dangerous man go.

You stopped the machine and went to the end of the belt, acting like you were tidying the bins. In one of the bins this man used, something caught your eye, so you called after him. “Sir!”

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungwon asked warily through the earpiece.

“I’m supposed to just trust that you’re a real FBI agent? You could have a hacker feeding you all my information. Like you said, it’s not hard to look up a government employee,” you mumbled, looking at the pack mule through your brows.

“A little late to be speculating, Y/N.” You could hear Jungwon’s anxious chuckle through the earpiece. “I promise that I’m not the bad guy. Just take a leap of faith. You’ll get your proof in a second.”

A leap of faith? He’s asking you to put the lives of all these passengers on a gut instinct? You watched the man with the suitcase slowly walk over to you. You only had a split second to decide. Why did you want to trust this man? Your gut was gnawing at you, begging you to trust this mysterious individual in your ear.

You reached into the bin and pulled out the boarding pass he left behind. “Your boarding pass, Mr…” You glanced at the pass, trying to absorb the information. “Nishimura.”

The man let out what you assumed to be a sigh of relief. He offered you an awkward bow before taking the boarding pass in your hand and hurrying away.

“Y/N.” You swiveled around to see Owens looking at you disappointedly. “You’re out.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tilted your head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you—”

“You’re off the job.”

Your eyes felt like they were about to roll out of their sockets with how wide they grew. “What do you mean I’m off the job? I haven’t even made a mistake.”

Owens motioned Jay over, who looked confused as he jogged to you. Jay slid through the barriers and pulled up beside Owens. “Jay, you’re back on the scanner today.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you at least going to tell me why you’re pulling me?” you almost shouted. You’re in public, in a place where inducing mass panic was easy. You let Owens pull you away from the scanner and Jay. You looked back at your friend. Jay held his hands out in question. You could only mouth to him, I don’t know.

Owens brought you to his box, where Jungwon was waiting expectantly. No fucking way. This motherfucker set you up.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Jungwon said without the playful tone you’d come to know. “Is there an examination room we can hold her in until my partner gets here?”

Owens dragged you behind him as he marched into the hall where the search rooms were. You looked between him and Jungwon, both of whom refused to even spare you a glance. Desperation and confusion built up in your chest. Why the hell are you being arrested right now? For letting a bomb through? A bomb that this supposed special agent told you to let through? That’s what you get for blindly trusting someone. Man, your survival instincts sucked. Maybe it was a good thing you weren’t accepted to be an FBI agent. But something about Jungwon made you feel safe, safe enough to just take him at his word.

Once you entered the room, your supervisor released you. You spun to face the two of them, about to ask what was going on when Owens took the words right out of your mouth. “What the hell is going on in my airport?”

Jungwon leaned against the table, crossing his arms, a serious look adorning his face. “There’s a dangerous individual that we’re trying to catch. The only way to arrest him and make sure the charges stick is if he has the carry-on in his possession. They’re making a trade before the plane boards.”

Huh? Oh. Oh! You weren’t being arrested.

“And why did you have me pull Y/N? Make it seem like she was fired?”

Jungwon sighed. “Unfortunately, there’s a contingency plan in place to kill Y/N after she let the carry-on through. To my client’s knowledge, I’m taking care of her right now.”

Rubbing his face, Owens let out a groan. “Why wasn’t TSA made aware of this?”

“We believe he has someone capable of intercepting emails or calls. We couldn’t take the chance. This man has slipped through our fingers on technicalities far too many times.”

Wow, that really makes you wonder how competent government agencies are.

“So, I’m down a TSO, and I can’t alert anyone about the threat?” Owens was exasperated. You’d never seen the man so aged before.

Jungwon nodded, checking his watch. “It’s imperative you act like everything is normal. Obviously, you can attribute your stress to Y/N getting arrested, but, other than that, you have to carry on. Business as usual.”

“And me?” you asked. “What am I supposed to do? Wait here?”

Jungwon’s eyes met yours. You could almost see the mirth enter his eyes. “Nope. You’ll be helping me and my guys catch the perp.”

You and Owens must’ve synced up at some point because your jaws dropped simultaneously. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t expect me to trust Y/N—no offense—with an operation like this,” Owens squeaked, sweat beading at his temples.

Jungwon leaned closer to your supervisor with cat-like eyes. “But you trust me, yes?”

“Hardly,” Owens muttered. You found yourself nodding in agreement. Who the hell was this guy? Was every special agent as unhinged as him?

A pout formed on Jungwon’s lips. “Fine. You trust the FBI, right?”

Your supervisor nodded reluctantly. Jungwon raised an eyebrow with a smirk before straightening his posture. “Then, trust that I’m making the best calls that I can to ensure everyone’s safety. Now, I think you’ve been here for far too long.”

Jungwon started shooing your boss away, opening the door for him. “I’ll keep her safe,” Jungwon called after him and shut the door without giving you much time to process any of it. He looked at you with a wide grin and clapped his hands together. “Now! Let’s get started, shall we?”

You looked at him suspiciously. “What exactly did you want me for?”

“Well, I needed someone who has the codes to the backrooms so I can move around freely. Plus, I saved your life, didn’t I?” Jungwon replied like it was obvious. When you kept eyeing him with distrust, he puffed out his cheeks. “Okay, maybe I also wanted to see how you’d do as an FBI agent.”

Your jaw just couldn’t stop dropping today. “You’re risking the safety of 200,000 people on a gamble? To see if I’m any good? Are you insane?”

“Hey! That’s what Sunoo said too!” Jungwon pointed at you in joyful shock.

You clenched your jaw, trying to contain your increasing frustration for the man in front of you. “200,000 lives in the hands of a freaking child,” you scoffed in disbelief. This is the type of person they let into the FBI? Was he even in the FBI?

“How did you even get Owens to play along with you?” you gritted out. Jungwon looked up from his phone. You watched him, unimpressed, as he patted himself down before pulling out a badge. He flashed the FBI identification at you with a grin. “This pretty much did all the talking,” Jungwon said. “Had to be discreet, though. I slipped it to him in a Chili’s takeout container with a napkin with the general plan on it.”

“That’s incredibly risky for someone that’s undercover,” you pointed out. “What if your client searched you?”

Jungwon tilted his head thoughtfully. “I would’ve had to lie my ass off and say it was a fake for the plan but, thankfully, he’s not as paranoid as he should be for a bomber.”

His nonchalance made your head spin. Was this guy for real? Are you in the Twilight Zone? You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in an action comedy as the comic-relief sidekick whose plot armor was faulty.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Jungwon began, pulling out a folded napkin that had oil stains here and there. This couldn’t be what he gave to Owens, right? “My client thinks I’m in here tying up loose ends. That gives me time to intercept the handoff. You…” He paused, giving you an appraising look, “are going to help me keep track of our guy and make sure he doesn’t do anything crazy like kill a civilian.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” you said flatly, arms crossed. “I confiscate oversized toothpaste, Jungwon. What makes you think I have the stealth training for this?”

“Your aptitude tests. Plus, you ranked first in TSA’s threat assessment,” he countered, smirking. “Look at you, overachiever.”

You wanted to argue, but you had to trust him, even if that meant trusting yourself. This was stuff you used to dream about—being a part of the FBI and taking down terrorists. The little girl that wasn’t marred by life’s letdowns was jumping for joy, while the adult you was freaking out about the implications of the whole thing.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly. “Where do you need me?”

Jungwon’s grin widened. “Atta girl! First, we need to make sure Mr. Pack Mule doesn’t get cold feet and bolt. I need you to tail him through the terminal while I call for backup.”

“You’re doing all this without backup?” you weren’t sure whether to laugh or panic.

“I had you! And the rest of the TSA,” Jungwon said, shrugging. “I don’t really know. My boss cleared the plan.”

The FBI was run by a bunch of idiots. “So, you want me, the TSO still very much in her uniform, to tail a man that has seen my face?”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that,” Jungwon said, tapping his chin. “Just go change into your normal clothes.”

“I have no normal clothes, Jungwon,” you deadpanned. “I came in my work clothes.”

Jungwon gasped, bringing his fist to his mouth in shock. “But what about after-work plans? You know, New Year’s Eve? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?”

This mother— “I don’t have any after-work plans,” you gritted out. You were so close to damning all these passengers.

“Don’t you guys have a lost and found or something? For bags that were never picked up?” Jungwon asked.

“Yes, but do we even have the time?” You were skeptical. All of this felt like a big prank, like John Quiñones was about to pop out.

He glanced down at his watch. “It’s 11:11. Hey! Make a wish!”

You wished that he’d stop acting like this was just another day. For goodness' sake, people’s lives were at stake. When Jungwon peeked an eye open and noticed you weren’t making a wish, he cleared his throat. “Tough crowd. Well, do you remember what his boarding pass said?”

You thought back to the moment you handed off the boarding pass to Riki Nishimura. “His flight’s at 14:00.”

Jungwon smiled and clapped his hands. “Then we’ve got plenty of time. Let’s go shopping!”

When he opened the door and stepped out, you dragged along. “This is how people miss their flights,” you muttered.

You followed Jungwon out of the holding room, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of your situation. Jungwon, with confident strides and ever-present grin, walked like there wasn’t a threat of mass murder, while you trailed behind, wondering if you were a part of a special Truman Show segment.

The TSA lost-and-found was tucked away in the back of the back rooms. Jungwon strolled in, waving to the confused staffers who were trying to figure out who he was. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! Nothing out of the ordinary to see here. This excellent TSO is just helping me relocate my luggage.”

The employees exchanged glances, unsure whether to stop him or let him proceed. “Uh… you’re not allowed to be back here,” one of them said hesitantly.

With bright eyes, Jungwon looked at you expectantly. What the hell was he looking at you—oh. You brought out your badge, which Jungwon snatched. He held it up with a flourish, not waiting for a response before walking straight to the pile of abandoned suitcases. “Come on, Y/N, pick one out. Which suitcase do you think would have stuff in your size?”

You hesitated before stepping into the storage area. You saw battered-up grey suitcases, along with red and blue ones. You gingerly pulled a large pink one with an obnoxious amount of stickers, careful to keep the pile intact. Putting it down, you knelt to open it. Now, if this were any other day, you would’ve been shocked at the contents inside. But, observing the trends for today, you weren’t surprised that men’s clothing was staring back at you—edgy, cyberpunk clothes at that.

“Nice choice,” Jungwon said approvingly, peering over your shoulder. “You just look like every other fashionista in this airport!”

You glared at him as he smirked. “You’re enjoying this way too much. Isn’t the whole point of me changing not to draw attention?”

“This aesthetic draws attention to the clothes, not the face,” Jungwon replied, picking up a pair of sunglasses from the luggage. “Plus, these glasses will give you total anonymity.”

Rolling your eyes, you hid behind some pillars and changed quickly. Once you appeared, Jungwon whistled. "Maybe you should take this for those after-work plans.”

Your fist was itching to make that connecting flight into his face. His stupid, nonchalant, good-looking face. Before you could become a MMA, a job you didn’t realize was appealing until you met Jungwon, he gave you a quick rundown. “Alright, here’s the plan. Our guy is likely going to wander the terminal until he gets the signal to meet the main perp. He can’t afford to look suspicious, so he’ll be moving like any regular passenger—well, as best as he can under duress—checking his phone, grabbing a coffee, maybe even sitting down to wait. You’ll follow him, but keep your distance. Blend in. Act like you’re just another traveler.”

“And what about you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I’ll be coordinating with my backup team and keeping an eye on you through the cameras,” Jungwon replied, tapping his phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll be watching your every move.”

“Great,” you muttered. “So, what happens if I get caught?”

Jungwon gave you a mischievous grin. “Then I guess we’ll find out how good your improv skills are. Think of it as your audition for future undercover missions with the FBI.”

You’d get arrested for murder before you ever reapplied for that damned government agency. You could feel your eye twitching at the sight of Jungwon.

With that, he escorted you out of the lost-and-found and into the bustling terminal. Before he shut the door, he gave you a thumbs up. “I’ll be communicating with you through the earpiece I gave you. Remember to not look like you’re talking to air. That tends to attract the wrong kind of attention.”

Breathe, Y/N. You can’t beat the FBI agent’s ass as much as you wanted to. Once the door closed, you scanned the area until you spotted Riki Nishimura sitting at a café, sipping a coffee and scrolling through his phone. It didn’t take long; the man’s nervous energy made him stick out like a sore thumb. You took a deep breath and moved into the flow of travelers, keeping your eyes on him without being obvious.

You situated yourself in one of the eating areas across from the café, pulling out your phone to act as if you were just another passenger waiting for her flight. Jungwon’s voice crackled in your ear. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Keep it up. Remember, don’t get too close!”

No shit. “I know,” you whispered, trying not to look like a schizophrenic as you stole glances at Nishimura. He seemed jittery; every so often, he glanced over his shoulder or scanned the crowd, as if he could sense he was being watched.

After what felt like an eternity, Nishimura got up and made his way toward a quieter part of the terminal, away from the main crowds. Your heart raced as you followed him into the area near Gate 54, where only a handful of passengers were sitting.

Jungwon’s voice came through again. “Heads up, Y/N. This is likely where the handoff will happen. Stay sharp. My backup team is on its way, but we need to make sure we catch the mastermind with the suitcase in hand.”

Mastermind? This is nothing like Criminal Minds. What you wouldn’t give to watch an episode right now.

You found a seat nearby, pretending to check your phone as you kept an eye on Nishimura. He placed his suitcase by his feet and sat down, fidgeting nervously. When you moved closer, he glanced up, his eyes widening slightly. You froze, panic flaring in your chest. Did he know? Did he suspect something? His eyes darted back down to his phone that he was clutching tightly.

You put your phone up to your ear, speaking in hushed tones. “Jungwon, he’s definitely spooked. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

“Maybe having a pretty girl near him made him more nervous." Jungwon teased. You could feel your vein pulsing against your skin, wanting to pop out at his comment. For God’s sake, man, there was a bomb a couple of feet in front of you. You’d think he’d act a little more professional.

“Relax, Y/N,” Jungwon continued. “He’s scared out of his mind, which means he’ll follow orders to the letter. Just stay close. If he deviates from the plan, we’ll know something’s up.”

A few minutes later, another man approached him—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a sharp suit and dark glasses. They exchanged a brief nod before the man sat down beside him.

Your pulse quickened as you tried to hear their conversation without getting too close. Jungwon’s voice buzzed in your ear. “Wait. That’s not my client. Hold your position.”

You watched as the man in the suit handed Nishimura a piece of paper, likely the code to activate the bomb. Nishimura hesitated before slipping it into his pocket, looking around nervously. You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest. Nishimura sat stiffly, his foot tapping an erratic rhythm on the floor. The man in the suit nodded and stood.

“They’re splitting up,” you hissed. “The suit’s heading toward the bathrooms. Nishimura’s staying put.”

“Stay on Nishimura,” Jungwon instructed. “We’ve got agents heading to the bathroom.”

You discretely nodded, moving casually toward a column near Nishimura’s seat. You leaned against it, pretending to check your phone, but your entire focus was on the nervous man gripping his suitcase like a lifeline. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze flickering between the boarding line and the bathroom entrance. Then, he stood up, carefully weaving through the rushing travelers.

“Nishimura’s on the move. I think he’s moving to a different gate,” you reported, stretching widely to peer at the nervous man’s retreating back.

“Follow him,” Jungwon’s voice crackled. “He’s probably meeting with the man we’re trying to apprehend.”

“Copy that,” you muttered, your stomach twisting with nerves. You pushed off the column and strode to catch up the pack mule, keeping your movements purposeful but unhurried. As your target slipped into Gate 32’s waiting area, you slowed your pace, choosing to stay further this time. This guy was definitely going to be able to tell the girl in cyberpunk clothing is following him—you’re the only one in this damn airport not in sweats.

You saw him sit by the window, situating the luggage a seat away from him. Your heart pounded as you carefully positioned yourself behind a small cluster of passengers, trying to blend in. You could feel your palms growing clammy, your mind racing with the possibilities. Who was he waiting for now? Was the so called mastermind going to show up here?

Jungwon’s voice broke through the static in your earpiece. “Good job keeping a low profile. I almost have everyone in position. Backup is securing the rest of the terminal, but we need to ensure the guy is caught in the act. Keep your eyes on Nishimura, but don’t make direct eye contact.”

“Easier said than done,” you muttered, adjusting your position so you had a clear view of Nishimura. He was fidgeting again, his leg bouncing as he clutched his phone tightly. Every so often, his gaze darted toward the main concourse, scanning the faces of the passing travelers.

A few minutes later, a man in a dark trench coat entered the waiting area, his presence exuding quiet authority. He was calm, composed, and utterly nondescript—except for the piercing look in his eyes as he locked onto Nishimura. Your breath caught as you realized this must be him.

“Jungwon, we have a new player,” you whispered, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Trench coat. Looks calm, but he’s definitely the one in charge. He’s making his way to Nishimura now.”

Jungwon responded almost instantly. “I’ve got eyes on him. That’s the guy that paid for my services. Stay put. If things go south, I’ll move in.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. All you could do was watch as the man in the trenchcoat approached Nishimura, who stood up immediately, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The man sat down next to him, gesturing subtly toward the suitcase. Nishimura hesitated before nodding and sliding the luggage closer to the man.

He leaned in, his lips moving as he whispered something to Nishimura. You wished you could hear what they were saying. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, tension coiling in your chest. You watched Nishimura slip the man the piece of paper the suited man gave him. This was it. The moment of truth.

Jungwon’s voice came through again, more serious now. “They’re making the handoff. Stay sharp. When the trench coat takes the suitcase, we move in. I’ll need you to help direct the crowd away from the gate. We can’t risk a panic.”

You nodded subtly, your muscles tensing as you prepared for what was about to happen. The man finally reached down, his hand brushing against the handle of the suitcase. Time seemed to slow as he lifted it, his expression calm and unbothered.

“Now!” Jungwon’s voice barked in your ear.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Jungwon appeared out of an "Authorized Personnel Only” door, moving with the precision and speed of a predator. You expected this to go as planned: the man arrested, the suitcase secured, passengers safe. But life, as you well knew, didn’t always go as planned.

The trenchcoat man, faster and more perceptive than you anticipated, spotted Jungwon as he closed in. His eyes narrowed as his gaze swept the terminal—and then locked onto you. Time seemed to freeze as he looked at you curiously, the faintest curl of a smirk forming on his lips.

“He’s spotted me,” you hissed into the comms, your heart thundering.

Before Jungwon could reach him, he grabbed the suitcase, shoved Nishimura aside, and bolted toward the exit. Passengers screamed and scattered as the man shoved his way through the crowd, the suitcase clutched tightly in his hand.

“Shit!” Jungwon growled into your earpiece. “Y/N, stay back! We can’t risk him detonating it here.”

But you weren’t about to let the mastermind vanish into thin air. Not with the suitcase. Not with the bomb.

“I can stop him!” you shot back, already moving. Your instincts overrode Jungwon’s command as you tore after the fleeing man, weaving through panicked travelers.

“Y/N, stop! I’m serious—let him go! I’ll catch him!” Jungwon’s voice cracked with frustration, but you ignored it, your focus locked on the man ahead of you.

He was fast, but fear fueled your adrenaline, and you gained on him as he burst through a side door marked “Authorized Personnel Only." You followed without hesitation, emerging into a service hallway dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. The cold, industrial smell hit your nose as the sound of his footsteps echoed sharply against the walls.

“Damn it, Y/N!” Jungwon growled into your earpiece. “He’s armed, and you’re unarmed! Wait for backup!”

“I’m not letting him get away,” you shot back, pushing yourself harder. Every instinct screamed at you to stop him, to end this here before the situation spiraled further out of control.

You chased him down a narrow corridor that opened into a large, bustling luggage distribution area—a maze of conveyor belts and sorting systems moving suitcases toward their respective flights. The constant whir of machinery mixed with the distant chatter of workers in reflective vests, creating a cacophony of noise.

The mastermind didn’t hesitate. He vaulted over a conveyor belt, landing with a thud on the other side, the suitcase clutched tightly in his hand. You didn’t break stride, leaping onto the conveyor belt and running along it to keep up. Thank goodness you did high school track.

“He’s heading into the service tunnels,” you reported breathlessly, shoving through a side door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." The dim fluorescent lights flickered as you ran down the narrow hallway, catching a glimpse of his trench coat as he rounded a corner.

“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Jungwon growled in your ear. “You’re not an agent. If you push him, he’ll press the button. Stand down, Y/N!”

“You made this gamble, so trust me!” you shot back, determination coursing through you. Your boots pounded against the linoleum as you followed him into the luggage distribution area—a sprawling maze of conveyor belts and baggage carts.

The clatter of machinery was deafening, the air filled with the whir of belts and the rumble of luggage being sorted. Workers froze in confusion as the man vaulted over a conveyor belt, suitcase clutched tightly in his hand. Without hesitation, you climbed onto the belt, running along it to keep pace.

He glanced back, his wild eyes locking onto yours. When he saw you gaining on him, his lips twisted into a cruel smile. He jumped down from the belt and spun to face you, pulling something from his coat. Your stomach dropped as he revealed a small device—the detonator.

“Stop right there!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. His thumb hovered over the button, his hand steady. “One more step, and we all die.”

You skidded to a halt, your hands instinctively raising. Every muscle in your body screamed to act, but the detonator left no room for error.

“Drop the suitcase,” you ordered, keeping your voice calm. “You don’t have to do this.”

The man’s laugh was cold and bitter. “Oh, I think I do. This isn’t just a bomb—it’s justice.”

Your gaze flickered to the suitcase, your heart pounding. The deadly nerve agent would get in the vents and spread the toxin across the airport if you let him detonate it. The death toll wouldn’t just be in the hundreds—it would be catastrophic.

“You think killing innocent people is justice?” you demanded. “You’ll slaughter thousands of people who have nothing to do with your ‘cause.’”

“Innocent?” he sneered, his voice filled with venom. “There’s nothing innocent about propping up a system that rewards greed and stomps on the poor. You know who’s on that plane? The golden child of Samsung himself. The heir to Korea’s wealthiest dynasty. When he dies, the entire country will feel it. His death will send a message that no amount of money can ignore.”

Your breath hitched. You’d read about the CEO’s son earlier, how he was traveling to Seoul on that plane. He was young, charismatic, projected to inherit the company and continue its dominance over South Korea’s economy. His death would undoubtedly send shockwaves through the nation—but at what cost?

“And you think this is the answer?” you shot back, anger lacing your voice. “Killing hundreds of innocent passengers just to take out one man? That’s not justice—that’s cowardice.”

“Cowardice?” he spat, his eyes blazing. “What do you know about the lives people like me live? Scraping by, drowning in debt, while they sip champagne in their sky-high towers? Korea will never be free of its wealth disparity unless someone forces change. And we’re that someone.”

“Y/N,” Jungwon’s voice came through your earpiece, tight with urgency. “Keep him talking. We’ve jammed the detonator signal, but I need more time to get there.”

You swallowed hard, taking a step closer. “And what happens when this ‘change’ you’re forcing costs thousands of lives? No one will listen to your message—they’ll just see you as a terrorist.”

“Let them,” he said with a chilling smirk. “They’ll remember my name, and our cause will have its audience.”

His thumb pressed down on the detonator. For a split second, your heart stopped—but the bomb didn’t detonate. The device let out a sharp beep, its signal blocked. His eyes widened in confusion as he pressed it again, then again. Nothing.

“Performance anxiety,” Jungwon’s voice echoed. “It happens all the time. Take him down.”

But instead of panicking, the man began to laugh—a low, sinister sound that sent a chill down your spine. He dropped the detonator to the floor and slowly crouched to open the suitcase.

From the suitcase, he pulled out a folded piece of paper—the same one Nishimura had handed him earlier. He held it up, waving it in the air like a trophy. “You thought this was over?” he taunted. “This is the manual override. A simple code, and the bomb goes live. No signal needed.”

“Put the paper down,” you ordered, your voice shaking with barely contained fear.

Jungwon appeared in your peripheral, gun pointed at the bomber. The man smirked, tucking the paper into his coat as he held the suitcase in front of him like a shield. “Go ahead,” he said, his tone mocking. “Shoot me. Let’s see how good your aim is. One bullet in the wrong place, and this thing goes off right here. Do you want to kill 200,000 people or just 250? Your call, TSA.”

“Y/N, don’t,” Jungwon warned, his voice sharp. “He’s baiting you.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as the man continued, his voice dripping with malice. “The clock’s ticking, sweetheart. Let me go, and only one plane goes down. Stop me, and everyone here dies. Are you really ready to play God?”

Your mind raced, your pulse thundering in your ears. You couldn’t let him leave, but you couldn’t risk setting off the bomb, either. The nerve agent wouldn’t just kill those in the immediate area—it would spread like wildfire, a silent killer that spared no one.

“Y/N,” Jungwon’s voice broke through your panic. “Backup is in position. Keep distracting him so they can take the shot.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. “You talk a lot about justice,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “But all I see is a man willing to bring suffering to innocent people all because he was dealt a bad hand in life. Get in fucking line. You think killing people will solve anything? You’re not a hero. You’re a coward.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and that was all they needed. A single, deafening gunshot rang out, and the man crumpled to the ground, the suitcase slipping from his grasp. Jungwon stood by you moments later, flanked by agents who quickly secured the suitcase and retrieved the override code.

You exhaled shakily, your legs threatening to give out beneath you as the adrenaline drained from your body. Jungwon clapped a hand on your shoulder, his expression a mix of relief and admiration.

“You did good, Y/N,” he said softly. “Better than good.”

The bomber was dragged away in cuffs, still spewing his venomous ideology as the agents hauled him out of the luggage distribution area. The suitcase was carefully handled by the bomb squad, its contents secured in a reinforced containment unit. You watched as they loaded it into a waiting hazmat vehicle, the reality of what you’d just prevented finally sinking in.

Jungwon stood beside you, his hands on his hips, as he let out a long exhale. “Well,” he said, his tone light but tinged with exhaustion, “I’d say that’s one way to spend New Year’s Eve.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the tension in your chest easing for the first time all day. “Not exactly how I planned to ring in the new year.”

He glanced at you with a sly grin. “You mean this wasn’t on your Pinterest board? Saving 200,000 lives and wrestling a suitcase full of nerve agent from a madman?”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” you deadpanned, though the corners of your lips twitched upward.

Jungwon chuckled, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You know,” he said, tilting his head toward you, “you’d make a damn good FBI agent. You’ve got the instincts, the guts, the whole package. You sure you don’t want to reconsider applying again?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms. “You still planning to write me that stellar recommendation you promised?”

He smirked, his gaze dropping to the ground briefly before returning to you. “Guess I’ll have to now, huh? Not sure my conscience could handle letting someone like you go to waste at the TSA.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the weight of what you’d just accomplished hanging in the air. The distant hum of the hazmat vehicle and the fading chatter of agents were the only sounds, but neither of you moved. For a moment, you both stood there, reflecting on how close the crisis had come to unfolding—and how thankful you were that it hadn’t.

Jungwon broke the silence first, his voice quieter now. “You know… I don’t really do New Year’s resolutions. But after today, I’m thinking I might try something new.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He turned to you fully, his expression soft but tinged with that playful glint you were beginning to recognize. “Like asking someone out who just prevented the death of thousands. Someone who, I don’t know, might be free tonight.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the shift in tone. “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, after the day we just had, I figure the least I can do is offer to be your after-work plans. You know, in case you don’t have any.”

You fixed him with a pointed look, letting the silence stretch just long enough for him to fidget uncomfortably. “After everything you put me through today?” you finally said, your voice deadpan.

Jungwon’s confidence wavered, and for a split second, he looked genuinely unsure of himself. But before he could start rambling, you let a small smile break through.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “You can be my after-work plans.”

His grin widened instantly, a mix of relief and triumph lighting up his face. “See? I knew you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though your smile softened the words.

As the hazmat vehicle pulled away, Jungwon leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You know, we stopped a pretty big bang from happening today,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye. “Maybe tonight we can see a different kind of bang in the sky. Fireworks, of course.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “If that’s your idea of flirting, you really need to work on your technique.”

Jungwon laughed, the sound warm and genuine as he fell into step beside you. “Fair enough. I’ll try to impress you with my conversational skills over dinner.”

“Dinner, huh?” you said, arching a brow as the two of you walked toward the terminal exit. “You sure you can handle that much pressure?”

“After today?” He glanced at you with a grin. “I think I can handle anything.”

And as you stepped out into the crisp evening air, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—this new year was off to a better start than you ever could’ve imagined and your dream was just within your reach.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! come by and chat!

#enhypen #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: writes #⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: one shot

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gilbertscurls · 1 month ago

Text

pissed off — matt sturniolo

summary: “i'm not pissed off, that's just my face.”

You had never really liked Matt. He had this permanent scowl, the kind of face that made you think he was perpetually pissed off at the world. Every time you saw him, whether it was at his apartment with Chris or running into him at the store, his expression seemed locked into a constant state of irritation.

Which, if you were being honest, rubbed you the wrong way.

It didn’t help that whenever you and Chris hung out, Matt would appear out of nowhere, usually with a sarcastic comment or a judgmental look thrown your way. You knew you shouldn’t take it personally, but after months of it, you had enough.

So when you found yourself at the Sturniolo apartment one rainy Saturday—Chris and Nick were out running an errand, and you were stuck there alone with Matt—it was all you could do to keep from snapping.

Matt sat on the opposite side of the couch, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the TV. The silence between you was thick, the only sound coming from the rain pattering against the windows.

“Could you stop glaring at me?” you finally blurted, unable to hold back.

Matt turned his head slowly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not glaring at you.”

“Yes, you are. You always are,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. “Every time I’m around, you look like you want to punch a wall or something.”

Matt blinked, seeming genuinely taken aback. “That’s just my face.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was messing with you or being serious. “What?”

“I’m not pissed off,” Matt said, his voice flat, but his eyes holding a faint glimmer of amusement. “That’s just how my face looks.”

You crossed your arms, not quite believing him. “You’re telling me you’ve just got… Resting pissed-off face?”

“Pretty much.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped. Now that you thought about it, Matt had always looked the same way around everyone, not just you. The furrowed brows, the clenched jaw—it was his default expression. Still, it didn’t excuse the way he acted toward you.

“Okay, but what’s with the attitude, then? You’re always so—” you paused, searching for the right word, “—distant.”

Matt sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I’m not distant. I just don’t see the point in talking all the time. And you and Chris… You’ve got your thing. I figured I didn’t need to be part of it.”

You frowned, his words catching you off guard. “You think I don’t want you around?”

Matt shrugged, his gaze shifting away. “You seem to have enough fun with Chris. I didn’t think I was needed.”

You softened a little, realizing this conversation was going in a direction you hadn’t expected. “It’s not like that, Matt. Chris and I are close, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to keep you out.”

He glanced at you, still guarded. “I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Matt smirked, the first real hint of a smile you’d seen from him in… well, ever.

“Look,” you continued, “I just figured you didn’t like me.”

“I don’t dislike you.” He paused, then added, “You’re just loud.”

Your jaw dropped. “I’m loud?”

Matt shrugged again, though this time the gesture was almost playful. “A little.”

You stared at him in disbelief, then laughed—an actual, genuine laugh. “Well, sorry for being loud.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just… Different. You’re different from me.”

You considered that for a moment. You had always assumed Matt didn’t like you, that his scowls and sharp comments were directed at you specifically. But maybe he was just… Awkward. Closed off. Maybe he didn’t know how to handle someone like you, who was more expressive and, yeah, loud.

“So, all this time, you weren’t mad at me?” you asked, still a little skeptical.

“Nope,” Matt replied simply. “Like I said—just my face.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips now. “You know, if you smiled a little more, people might not think you’re always angry.”

Matt looked at you, then, with the faintest hint of a grin. “Maybe I’ll work on that.”

Silence fell between you again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. You found yourself relaxing, surprised by how different Matt seemed once you actually talked to him. Maybe he wasn’t the brooding, irritated guy you had always thought him to be. Maybe he was just… Well, Matt.

As you sat there, the rain still drumming against the windows, Matt leaned back and glanced over at you. “So… We’re good now?”

You looked at him, surprised by the question. Then, you smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.”

Matt nodded, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t irritation or distance. It was something warmer, something real.

Maybe Matt wasn’t the enemy you’d built up in your head. Maybe he was just a guy with a rough exterior—and a resting pissed-off face—that you had misunderstood all along.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry, @shadowthesim, @courta13

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dadsbongos · 7 months ago

Text

my wife is cool, understanding, and goes with the flow

5.7 k words / warnings - fem reader (+referred to as mother/wife), chilchuck's emotional turmoil (he's so in love and so incapable of verbalizing it)

summary - general strings of yours and chilchuck's marriage. good to bad to making up.

~~~

“You know,” you whisper, “If you ignore how nightmarish they were to raise, then they’re kinda perfect kids.”

Chilchuck snorts, letting you hang off his arm as you stand in the doorway to your living room.

Meijack and Flertom are strewn across the couch in opposite directions, Flertom’s feet dangling off an armrest and Meijack’s in her sister’s face. Thankfully, Flertom is not awake to notice the violation of personal space. Puckpatti is curled on the floor before the couch, long auburn hair flayed out and draped over her arms, which she uses as a makeshift pillow.

The front door is wide open, gentle pittering rain having lulled the girls to sleep. Puckpatti had been the one to suggest a ‘slumber party’ in the common space as it rained, even likening the cool air and atmospheric petrichor to camping to incite Meijack. As far as you know, however, none of the girls have been camping, so you’re mystified how that reasoning actually worked.

“Mei and Fler are so big now,” he muses, “Mei thinks she’s ready for the adult world now.”

“As if,” you lay your cheek on his shoulder, silently wishing he’d take the opportunity to kiss your temple. He does not, “We were barely ready when we had them. How’s a nine-year-old prepared for that?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

Meijack, as if sensing her parents’ lighthearted jabs, rolls over with a grumble and hum, flinging a foot into Flertom’s nose. The younger twin’s face wrinkles in protest, head jerking in the opposite direction -- you and Chilchuck freeze, anticipating a shrill cry, until Flertom relaxes again. The sigh of relief is short, though.

Abruptly, Chilchuck goes rigid, jolting you off him, “Why is Patti on the floor? Like a dog?”

“How am I supposed to know what goes on in that kid’s brain?”

Chilchuck shakes his head and steps over the young girl to shut your front door. Squeaky hinges pull a whine from Patti herself, drowsily rubbing her eyes and calling, “Papa, don’t shut it!”

“What? You want a troll to get in?” he asks sarcastically.

“No,” Puckpatti answers in earnest.

“That’s why Papa wants the door shut,” you kneel by your youngest daughter, brushing back her bangs just to watch her eyebrows scrunch cutely, “So no nasty trolls can get inside…” then you remember your husband’s complaint, “Patti, baby, do you wanna sleep in a chair? Or a bed? The ground doesn’t look very nice to rest on.”

“Yeah, Mama’s right. The ground’s gonna mess up your back,” Chilchuck joins you, ready to scoop up your daughter when she shakes her head.

“Wanna stay by Mei and Fler…” she pouts.

“Okay, but let me set out some more blankets, alright?” you kiss her on the forehead once, then twice when she beams and nods.

Chilchuck is already standing to retrieve spare blankets from your closet, he’s back before you can impede the hallway. He stops you from venturing further by propping a leg in front of you, “Don’t worry about it, I got everything.”

“She’ll need a real pillow, too, honey.”

“Yeah,” he taps at your ankles with his foot until you’re relenting, turning back towards the living room, “I said I got it.”

“Thank goodness for my big, strong man, huh?”

“I am the breadwinner,” he teases, granting you a kiss on the cheek before dropping to lay the blankets out as a makeshift mattress for Puckpatti.

“Self-imposed!” you rasp, stage-swatting at his back, “I could get a job, too!”

“Do you want to?” you want to smack the smug grin off his lips, specifically with your own. In a kiss. For a long while.

“...no.”

He laughs at your sudden shyness. Tempered down only to avoid waking your daughters, “There you go.”

“Boo,” you pull Chilchuck to a stand by the back of his shirt. You pull, and pull, and pull, and you don’t stop until he’s tumbling on top of you into your shared bed, with your door haphazardly kicked shut, “You’re mean to me.”

“I’m mean?!” he whisper-shouts, instantly more affectionate in how he wraps his arms around you and buries his face into your neck, “You choked me, yanking on my shirt like that.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Barely,” he abruptly goes limp, “I’m half dead.”

“Half dead isn’t a thing, Chil,” you giggle, trying halfheartedly to shove him off.

“It is, I’m half dead,” he insists, “There’s only one way to revive me.”

“Uh-huh… and that is?”

“A kiss,” Chilchuck lifts his head to look you in the eyes, suggestively bumping his eyebrows, “A sloppy one.”

“No!” you gasp, dramatically.

“Loud and wet,” he nods in even measures, clicking his tongue, “Only way, I guess. Really tough for you.”

“I don’t know about that,” you wiggle out an arm from beneath his body to poke his cheek, “You seem fine now. Very lively and talkative!”

“Means I’m dying faster. It’s the final burst of energy before I shit my pants and die.”

“Ew!” your shout is smothered beneath Chilchuck’s hand, his laughter rumbling your body, forehead digging into your collarbones.

Between choked chuckles Chilchuck manages out a meek, “sorry, sorry!” he gasps for breath and releases your mouth, “That was gross.”

“Yeah, now get off me. You’re nasty.”

“See? You’re mean to me, one mention of shit and I’m just an expendable stud.”

As soon as Chilchuck rolls off you and onto his back, you’re crowding onto him, pawing at his chest and kissing his cheek, “You are a stud.”

“Can I get a kiss for that, at least?”

“I just kissed you, greedy.”

His deadpan stare inspires a bizarre longing in your thumping chest, you stretch to grant his wish. Chilchuck’s hands cup your cheek, holding you close to prolong the kiss as long as you’ll allow. Such restless and selfish want is reserved for behind closed doors, which you wish you could understand, but you don’t.

You’re preoccupied with the dread of death. Half-foots are blessed to live past fifty. Sure, you and Chilchuck are merely scratching at twenty, but life is too short for him to be shy about these things.

“I wish you’d be more open and lovey.”

“Hm?” he hums against your lips, pulling away to stare at you strangely, “Why?”

“‘Why?’” you mock, “I’m your wife! That’s why.”

Instinctually, Chilchuck goes to wave off the answer as a joke and roll his eyes, but then something barks. Both of you pause, heads turning slowly towards the now gaping door to find a shaggy white puppy standing in the dim space. Swiftly, its tail wags, and it barks again before charging towards your bed.

Your screech at the dash rouses Chilchuck from his shock. Clumsily shuffling so he’s in front of you, taking the brunt of the dog’s pounce.

“Since when do we have a dog?!” Chilchuck looks over his shoulder at you, as if you’d know.

“As if I know!” you parrot your thoughts, breath slowing to a calm when the small dog cuddles your husband’s arms, “Kinda cute though, right?”

“He broke in!” Chilchuck accuses, lifting a shoulder to prevent you petting it -- his plan fails miserably and you’re easily scratching behind the dog’s ears, “He could have ticks! He could’ve bit the girls on his way back here!”

“No,” you whine, resting your chin on Chilchuck’s shoulder, “He has a friendly face, he’d never do that!”

“And you know that how…?”

“Aw, Chil, honey, have a heart! He was probably scared of the rain and snuck inside to get away from it!” you reach under the dog’s head to now scritch his chin, “Which is our fault for leaving the door open, isn’t it?” you’re already a lost cause to logic, repeating back to the puppy, “Isn’t it? Yes, it is! Yes, it is! He understands me! He’s so smart, Chil, we have to keep him.”

His silent glowering makes you wilt over his back.

You retreat from the dog to hug your husband from behind, “C’mon, have a heart!”

Irritation pulses through Chilchuck at the turn of tonight’s events. Everything before this dumb dog felt natural, smooth, and familiar. Until you said that.

One thing that makes his heart rate spike. Even though, at twenty, it means very little to him.

‘I wish you’d be more open and lovey.’

He knows this means more.

“Okay, okay,” he eases, snatching a chaste smooch from you before combing a hand down the dog’s soft fur, “I’ll work on it.”

You two never had a dog, though.

Puckpatti is allergic -- you never would’ve gotten a dog since it’d cause your daughter so much distress.

What’s in his arms isn’t a dog, but it isn’t a mimic.

What’s in his arms isn’t a dog because this isn’t real.

Chilchuck’s eyes drift open, a dusty ceiling stares down at him. Slowly, a crushing weight is relieved from his stomach.

Blonde and black hair mingle in his peripherals, then Laios is leaning over him obnoxiously, speaking to the other two while looking at the half-foot, “Does Chil sleep with his eyes open?”

“No,” Chilchuck takes initiative, shoving Laios away by the chin and sitting up with a yawn. His back cracks unpleasantly, and eye crust pokes into his fluttering lids. Rubbing the gross clots away, Chilchuck settles his elbows onto his knees before resting that way -- leaning into his hands even after his eyes have been cleared out.

For a moment, he silently mourns the fading images of his dream; already having forgotten the beginning. No matter how desperately he clings to the story, it escapes, leaking out his ears until all there is left to mourn is the fact he’s awake.

All he knows is that dream ended differently than it should have. Hopefully the ending this time was better than real life, not that it matters. He wouldn’t remember, nor would it change the fact that in reality you two are not together.

“Chilchuck? Are you okay?” Marcille sounds hesitant. Worried.

The last thing he needs is her fretting and prying into what his Nightmare could’ve been about, so instead he lamely says, “Tired.”

“Oh, okay,” she sounds entirely unconvinced. He’s surprised when she doesn’t push.

He’s further surprised when Laios does, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

…

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Chil’,” you croon, hands curling around the man’s waist as he silently uncorks a bottle of cheap wine. He makes sure not to jostle you off as he moves the dark glass to his lips, even cupping your overlapping hands with one of his own to steady you, “You should talk to me about these things!”

“It was fine, we went in -- got what we needed -- got out. I’m back and alive.”

‘Alive’ strikes you, it sticks in the back of your head as soon as he says it. Your arms tighten around his slim waist, the slots of his ribs dig into your forearms and it makes your chest tighten. Swirling thoughts colliding and dragging each other deeper and deeper into your darker concerns: Chilchuck starving himself to maintain an unhealthy weight, Chilchuck burning calories in a revival, Chilchuck having to drink himself under just to fall asleep.

“Would you tell me if you died?”

“Why would you want to know that?” he laughs, yet you’re frowning into his back.

You bite your lip until raw iron spills onto your tongue, gnawing it with the anxiety of how to soften this question. How marshmallowy can you make your tone to avoid lecturing while also not patronizing him? Eventually, you settle on just spitting it out,

“Would you even remember it?” he hums, confused, “You drink a lot, Chil’.”

He squeezes your hands, setting down his wine to turn in your hold, now cupping your cheeks -- flush with upset and ready to dampen with tears, “I don’t get blackout on jobs, you know?”

“But,” you don’t want to pester him, to drive him away from home even during his off time, “Chil’, honey, you’re… with your weight, alcohol could- well- !”

“I know,” he interrupts your stammering, drawing a thumb across the apples of your face tenderly. Though his posture is rigid, and his next statement confirms your suspicion that he just wants to stop talking about this, “I appreciate you looking out for me, but really, don’t think so much about it. Work’s not worth talking about at home. And my drinking is totally recreational, I want to enjoy myself and unwind, is that so bad?”

“No,” you heave with defeat, now planting your forehead against his shoulder. Clenching his shirt in a bunch, you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze hoping it’ll squash out any thoughts of continuing to nag his drinking. It’ll end the same way it always does.

Chilchuck is fine because work is fine and his drinking is fine and his diet is fine because Chilchuck is perfectly perpetually fine.

You’re just a worrywart wife. Your kids are grown, having flown the coop, and you’re going mad in loneliness. You should think less. You should learn to be fine like your husband.

…

“Woah, no way! They want to meet me?”

“Uh-huh,” Chilchuck’s eyes trail after you as you rush from one end of the room to the other, clicking jewelry clasps and snapping buttons into place as you go, “It’s nothing to dress up over,” when you seem to ignore him, he only gets louder, “We’re gonna be late, you know?”

Let me dress up! is what you want to snap at him, but you don’t. Instead, you let those comments join the many others from him that rattle around in the back of your mind like rocks.

“I want to make a good impression,” you finally utter, “It isn’t like you tell me anything about work, I’m excited to meet your friends! Besides, if you wanted me to be more prepared then you should’ve said something earlier.”

“I get it,” and in a bid to be polite, but just coming out tumbling into the rock pile is, “If you had work friends, I’d wanna meet them, too.”

The obvious dig is that you don’t get out. Now that the girls are older and independently caring for themselves, you could more easily find work… the problem lies in how you don’t really want to. You’d be too scared of Chilchuck returning home to an empty house, whenever it is that he does come home.

The hidden dig is that he’s fibbing, he would never want to meet your friends like you want to meet his.

Nevertheless, you tuck a white hyacinth cob into your hair and head for the spot Chilchuck claims his group frequents for after-work drinks. Before tonight, it never really occurred to you that Chilchuck might be grabbing drinks with other people. Not that such an idea alone is what bothers you, rather that he’s out so often and for so long potentially enjoying himself while you’re stuck at home sick over whether he’s alive.

Upon arrival, a pair of tallmen greet you both. Smiles light up their faces, cheeks balling with glee, when their eyes spot you. It should probably be embarrassing how quickly such an insignificant act can get you excited. You wave and they wave back.

“Gonna introduce the lovely lady?” the slightly taller one, black haired with stubble stretching down his neck, prompts.

“We should get to the table first,” Chilchuck reaches for the door, holding it open for you.

(if you were presenting Chilchuck to your friends then you’d repeat yourself introducing him ad infinitum with shining pride, but you add that thought to your rock collection)

“This is my wife,” Chilchuck pulls out your chair for you, waiting until you’re sat before adding your name and sitting beside you, “Hope she’s everything you all hoped for.”

You choose to ignore that. Preferring to strike conversation with his friends until,

“You know,” the blonde woman at the head of the table leans forward, you’ve been rudely trying to avoid looking at her. But how can you blame yourself when she stares at your husband with such a sultry, lidded gaze, “I think you were exaggerating how spacey she is, Chilchuck. Adorable thing’s been keyed into our conversation the whole time.”

Chilchuck grumbles into his rapidly emptying mug of ale, then locking eyes with the blonde woman, “You don’t live with her.”

“Hey!” you sound bratty and grating with the whine, but your spirit feels worse, “Is that what you tell them about me?”

“And clumsy,” the gnome directly across from you chirps.

“But!” the black-haired one from earlier interrupts, apparently sensing your drowning mood, “You’re a good mom! Great, even!”

“Oh,” the compliment does very little to satiate you, given what’s been said against you (you don’t stop to consider that Chilchuck mentions those things because he finds them charming). You look over to your husband, “I’m a good mom?”

Chilchuck is drunkenly chortling over something you hadn’t heard the blonde woman say.

But at least you’re a good mom.

Something plops against the hand buried in your lap. A scattered white hyacinth. Embarrassed suddenly by how much effort you put into your outfit, you sweep the flower off your leg and stare at the table -- praying to avoid more glimpses of the blonde at the head of the table.

Nobody seems to notice your veil of silence, not even Chilchuck to tease you proving his point about spacing out.

On the trek home, you trail behind Chilchuck to test if he’ll notice. At some point, you’re three full paces behind him, and you theorize that the weight of all your freshly added brain-rocks is slowing you down. Again, he holds the door to your shared home open, but does not ask the cause for your sour mood.

Assuming he’s even noticed, anyway.

Given the way he leaves the next morning for another job with little more than a kiss to your forehead, you assume he didn’t. Venomously, you wonder if he would notice the blonde in a bad mood.

That same morning, not knowing how long he’ll be away this time, you pack up and head for Flertom’s house with Puckpatti.

(a flickering hope tries to toss the rocks through your ears, assuring that Chilchuck will come for you as soon as he’s seen you missing)

…

Four years later, Chilchuck does finally come for you.

“Hey, Mama?” Flertom creeps around the corner to the kitchen, hands wrinkled in the skirt of her dress nervously, “You have a visitor��”

Looking up from your book, you roll the handle of your coffee mug in your palm, making the bottom scrape against your daughter’s tablecloth, “Who’d visit me?”

“Dad.”

That makes you hesitate before slipping your book closed around your thumb, “Your father’s here?”

“He’s at the door,” she nods, voice lowering as if he’d hear her across the house, “There’s an elf lady with him!”

“Oh, you’re- !” you purse your lips, sighing through your nose, and nod. Rising to a stand, you replace your thumb with a proper bookmark before skirting around Flertom and through the hall. Curses coagulate in your throat, and you suffer them silently, holding them until they melt back into your chest, not wanting to swear out your ex in front of his daughter.

With more force than perhaps necessary, you pull the door open and annoyedly flick your eyes from Chilchuck to the blonde elf woman behind him.

“What? Came to show off?”

Chilchuck flushes red, shaking his head and tilting a preciously wrapped bouquet towards you, “No! No, we’re not together.”

Elf Lady lets out a quiet gasp before refusing sharply, “Not together at all! He’s here for you!”

“I figure he’s here for me,” you’re much more bitter than you thought you’d be, although to be fair whenever you imagined Chilchuck coming to see you he was never with another woman, “If you’re not together, why are you here?”

She frowns at your tone, Chilchuck sticking an arm out in front of her, “She’s my coworker. And friend. She pushed me to come see you,” he steps forward, waving the flowers under your nose, “Can we talk?”

“About what, Chilchuck?”

His eyes widen at the use of his formal name, plastic wrap crinkling loudly as he squeezes the flowers. Then his gaze drops to his feet, “I didn’t realize we were so unfamiliar.”

“I haven’t heard from you in four years.”

“You haven’t heard from me?” he grins sideways, an agitated twitch in his left eye, “Do you hear yourself?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to then catch the sight of Chilchuck’s ‘friend’ lingering -- staring -- not even three feet back. Glaring at her, you begin to slide the door shut, “I think we’re done here. You show up at our daughter’s house, unannounced, with some pretty, blonde filly and expect us to chat like old friends? You’re just as insensitive as always, Chilchuck!”

As you go to slam the door, Chilchuck shoves his foot in the way, hissing at the resounding ache all through his instep and ankle. Breathless from the sudden pain, he worms the bouquet through the slim gap -- a few stray powder blue hyacinth petals fluttering to the floor at the pressure. Just above the plush flowers is the sorrowful sight of Chilchuck’s wet lashes and batting eyes.

“Come on,” he huffs, not even taking a huff of relief when you let the door open wider. Tensely, Chilchuck wraps his other hand around the bouquet as well, “It’s not like that, you know me better, don’t you? I just need to talk to you,” the wrap squeals again as he squeezes tighter, “I just want you to tell me where I went wrong.”

He’s playing to your big headedness, vying that he’s alone in the wrong. You know him better, most definitely, you know that as soon as you two sit down he’ll bring up the way in which you left. You deserve that much, don’t you? If you could change anything (given that what you can pick from is what was actually your fault), it would be the manner in how you left. You would’ve waited until he was home to tell him to his face.

(except that’s a lie, if you had waited then you would’ve let him sucker you with soft apologies and unfulfilling promises to change)

This is the most vulnerable you’ve seen him in years.

“She’s not coming into my home.”

Chilchuck nods, lips stretching fondly, “You’re so jealous.”

“She’s tall, and blonde! And pretty. And- !”

He cuts you off, tone just as soft as it was seconds ago, “And I’m not giving her flowers, am I?”

“Apology flowers,” you mutter, though sweeping the bouquet from his arms into yours. Skimming one of the soft petals under your thumb before gliding from one bob to the other and touching there, too. Turning toward the burning feeling of eyes on your back, you find Flertom’s blown out stare meeting yours.

Flertom holds both hands out silently, brows raised. Pushing in neither way, only offering to hold -- whether she holds you or the flowers is your decision. You choose the flowers. She giggles and waves you off, whispering to the flowers about what a lovely, empty vase she has just for them!

“We shouldn’t talk here,” you step out from Flertom’s home, “I don’t want to include our daughter in our troubles.”

“What a good mom,” he teases, waving off the elf as he steps down from Flertom’s porch, holding out a hand to assist you down as well. The remark has a new defiance bubbling beneath your skin.

“I can walk myself,” you bypass his offer.

“I know you can, but let me be nice.”

“You had lots of opportunities to be nice.”

A retort is trapped on the back of his tongue. Ultimately, he swallows it, and says nothing except to suggest a bar nearby, “That could be a good spot,” at your judgmental stare, he sputters, “For talking!”

“Right.”

Chilchuck has a favored tavern in Kahka Brud, the one where you told him you were pregnant with Puckpatti. He, very selflessly and pumped full of blind joy, bought a round for the patrons. It's not a particularly popular or nice place, there’s a lingering smell of mildew and the usual customers are lonely old men (basically: Chilchuck). And the door still creaks when he holds it open for you.

And the tables are just as wobbly when you sit there. Chilchuck tries in vain to mask the tipping by forcing it to one side by pressing his elbows down.

“So, what was she doing there?”

“She kept bugging me about my personal life, so,” he sighs, unsure how to explain himself without sounding out of his mind, “In short, I promised she could meet my family.”

“Pretty against your usual tough front.”

“Not tough,” he folds his arms now, hands on either bicep, still trying to keep the uneven table steady, “I just don’t think they have to know my business.”

“You realize how stupid you sound, right?”

“Oi,” a deep voice approaches from the other side of the bar, a man unfamiliar to both you and Chilchuck stands behind the counter, “We don’t serve kids here.”

Chilchuck groans, pointing at his ears without looking back at the man, then his eyes catch the way you’re prepared to hop down from your seat. He shakes his head, “Don’t move for this dumbass. If he can’t tell a tall-man kid from adult half-foots, he’s a fucking idiot.”

“I guess, but what if he just kicks you out for being a dick?” you glance at the bartender warily, trying to sense if he’s gearing up to throw you and Chilchuck out by force.

“I’m not worried about him,” Chilchuck leans forward, almost as if he can assert control over the situation by a meager height difference, “I’m here to talk to you.”

You’re unsure how to respond to that. It’s something you’ve always wanted to hear from him, but now that you have it feels unsatisfying. After four years of your sudden disappearance from his life, he’s finally given chase.

“Do you have any idea why I left?”

“Roughly,” he admits, voice quiet, eyes redirected to the table in shame, “I wasn’t there for you, right?”

“That’s a bit simplified. When you were on crawls, it felt like you being away for work felt the same as when you were home.”

“I wasn’t there for you,” he restates, nodding slowly, “So, that was it?”

His lack of tension hurts you more than you’re willing to admit. Enough that you temporarily forget that you wanted to make him feel the distance between you both.

“Chil…”

You revert to his first name.

“It’s okay, you can say it. That was it. You had enough.”

It goes unacknowledged, and that hurts all over again. It hurts so bad, you start to get angry that he even maintains such an effect on your heart.

“I didn’t want- it wasn’t- I’m…” you groan loudly, eyes clenching shut to avoid him, “That’s the problem, Chil,” his silence prods you on, “You think of me leaving as… as a ‘that’s it’ moment. Do you know how hard that was on me?”

“Leaving was hard on you? I came home to nothing that day! I thought you were just upset, maybe a little depressed, I didn’t think you were planning to leave me! I never thought you’d leave.”

“I told you. I told you why I was upset.”

“When?”

“I told you all the time!” before he can open his stupid mouth, you’re yelling again, “And if you knew I was so sad, then why didn’t you ask?! Did it never occur to you that I might need support? That I wanted my husband to talk to me about how I felt? That he should talk to me about how he feels?”

“I’m no good with emotional shit, you know that. When I’m upset I just feel uncomfortable spilling that onto others, I didn’t want to intrude.”

“We were married! Spouses are supposed to intrude!”

His shoulders droop, face falling like you said something genuinely devastating (but that can’t be, right? why would he be so upset about something he gave such little thought to?), “Were?”

“I was gone for four years before you came to see me, Chil,” you lay your head in your hands, “Four years before you looked for me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he whispers, “I asked Fler about you.”

“She never told me that.”

“I told her not to.”

Redundantly, you say, “I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you hated me,” Chilchuck draws a slow breath, it fills his whole chest before he lets it all out, “And for the first couple of months after Fler told me you were safe, I hated you, too. I was so mad that you didn’t even leave a note. I couldn’t eat or sleep, I was just… confused, and angry. I couldn’t work,” he swallows hesitation, “And the worst part was… I couldn’t talk about it because nobody knew you. Re-explaining it to people would just piss me off all over again.”

“Your old coworkers met me. And we grew up with Dandan.”

“I didn’t want to talk to Dandan,” he huffs petulantly, “I wanted to talk to my wife.”

So many feelings are bottled between you both; shaken up to a fizzy, bubbling mess about to explode from one of you. You fear it may be you. You almost crave for it to be him, though. You hate him. You miss him. You love him.

And you’re lying through your teeth, still, because you don’t hate him at all.

“Being with you, I felt so lonely.”

“I never took it seriously when you said I should open up more. I thought that because we were married that was enough and you’d be content to just be there,” he purses his lips, “I was wrong. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you reach across the table and pull one of his hands off his arm, lacing his fingers with yours, “I should’ve left a note. I’m sorry. You must’ve been worried sick.”

“I thought some bastards took you. Ran up and down the coast accusing everyone I could see of kidnapping,” he chuckles, although the ragged beat in his voice clues to you that the incident was not as lighthearted as he’s making it seem, “But when I found out the truth, I just thought you didn’t want to be found.”

“Because you wouldn’t want to be found, right?”

“Right.”

“But- !”

“You’re not me,” he squeezes your hand tight, you can feel the full warm softness of his palm without those gloves he pulls on for work, “You’re way different. You run away to prove points,” a bratty hey! follows, “You know yourself really well, and you’re good at being open. I’ve never been like that. I never knew how, it makes me uncomfortable. But you’re my,” he swallows, “You were my wife, I should’ve been comfortable being emotional with you. You shouldn’t have been in a position where me being home was the same as me being gone for days on end.”

“Thanks, Chil,” you smooth a thumb from his knuckle and along his index finger. You glance back up to his face. A sick nostalgia, or perhaps revived affections, rage up from your gut and overdriving your heartbeat. He’s more handsome than you remember.

He shrugs, studying your conjoined hands. As if it’s the last time he’ll see them like this.

It might be.

“What now?” you ask.

“Dunno,” he replies.

Is it pathetic if you ask to get back together? (YES)

“Want to meet my new coworkers?” he blurts, a vicious red overtaking his face.

This is a step. Where exactly, you’re completely in the dark, but it certainly is a step somewhere new.

“You’re seriously not with that elf, right?”

“Of course, not! What kind of person tries reuniting with their wife while bringing a new girlfriend along?”

“You really want that answer?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he snides, getting down from his chair and holding out a hand to help you down. This time, you take it, and leave his palm in yours as you both exit the bar, “By the way, my old boss is a king now.”

“What?” you gasp, spare hand flying down to smooth out your outfit, “Tell me we’re not going yet! I can look nicer than this!”

“You look pretty like this,” his eyes scrawl over your frame, ��Not that it matters, right?”

“Why not?” you frown, “I should at least try to look my best in front of a king.”

“He’s just some guy,” he double-backs suddenly, shaking his head sternly, “I don’t even think he’s attracted to people, I think he’s into monsters. You shouldn’t waste your time.”

Oh!

You smile at your husband widely, “You’re jealous!”

“Not even a little. Why would I be?”

“Exactly,” you pull him into your side by your hand in his, “Why would you be?”

Is it pathetic for him to beg to renew your vows?

Yes.

Does he still plan to?

Yes.

…

“You have a wife?”

“Is that so surprising?” Chilchuck can’t help but preen at the shock, carding a hand through his hair like some pompous dork trying to act too cool for the attention, “Yeah, I’m a taken man.”

Clara, a blonde tallman he usually laughs at rather than with, pesters for more information, “What’s she like?”

Her curiosity makes his skin itch, so he shrugs and tries throwing out answers as fast as they come, “Kind of a space case, and clumsy. But it’s cute…” he scoffs when his party coos and ‘aww’s like he’s some kid talking about a crush rather than a grown man his wife, “She’s really caring, too, it made her a good mom,” Chilchuck clears his throat, if only to smother the sight of his broad grin with his hand, “She’s great.”

“We should meet her,” his black-haired cleric suggests suddenly, “She probably wants to know what group has her husband away from home so often. Hopefully she doesn’t hate us, huh?”

“No,” Chilchuck lowers his hand, still feeling a gentle giddy lap over him like sunlight at the thought of you, “She’s pretty understanding.”

~~~

+ and btw and fyi: i think it’d be cool if the dream was actually terrible and only appeared pleasant cuz laios saved chil, like how marcille remembered having a nice dream after being saves. like if the real dream was coming home from a long job to discover his family horribly murdered <3

#chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck angst #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #from.me.to.queue.🍅

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