#i picture it like this is a conversation after the events of the movie
Text
❝ 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 (𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐎) !! ❞
❝ A LOVE TRIANGLE GONE RIGHT ?! REPORTING FROM THE SET OF THE HIT SHOW JUJUTSU KAISEN ! ❞
✧ pairing: actors!satoru gojo and suguru geto x actor!reader
✧ summary: rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your boyfriends find out who it is—
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut, no curses, modern au, jjk is a tv show, actor au, yes the actors and characters have the same names lol, reader is dating both of them, funny interview hijinxs, this is kind a lot of crack, jealous! gojo + geto, sukuna is here lmao, innuendos, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi-exhibitionism, face sitting (f! receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, sex (p in v), double penetration, creampie, multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / _3aem
✧ wc: 17,900
“Reporters say the love triangle between the actors Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto and their co-star has become even more shrouded in mystery than the show itself!” an influencer reports on your social media of gchoice that morning, nearly vibrating from assumedly her three espressos, “the stars of Jujutsu Kaisen, the fantasy horror drama series written by Gege Akutami have been embroiled in dating scandals over the last few weeks—“ your phone’s notifications cut the audio from the video for a moment until you switch it to silent, “after being spotted leaving Suguru Geto’s loft just two nights ago, she was then seen having a lunch rendezvous with Satoru Gojo—“
You lock your phone, rubbing your temples, as the device nearly had an aneurysm from your social media notifications — buzzing itself off your dining room table and into an early death. Your agent was going to have a field day with this, and the main event is going to be your murder.
“What are they saying about us now?” Suguru sighs, as he emerges out of the shower in only a towel wrapped around his waist, steam rolling out of the bathroom, as you offer him a coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a sip, “my agent is demanding I call him— and I’d like to know what we’ve done now before he kills me,” he says, though he continues to sip his coffee nonchalantly, unbefuddled by the thought of his death.
“Oi oi, calm down, shouldn’t you be more upset at the reporters than me?” Satoru comes from the bedroom, “Nanamin, just take care of it. Tell them we’re just friends if they ask you — do me a favor and pay off the reporter who got a picture of us kissing—“ and you nearly snort at the thought of Nanami Kento doing any sort of favor for Satoru.
“You let him kiss you?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips, as your cheeks burn, rolling your eyes.
“Not so much ‘let’ as he just kissed me without a second thought,” you shake your head, drinking your coffee as Satoru continues to bicker with Nanami, “I told him I thought I saw paparazzi but—“
“Satoru is do first, ask questions never,” Suguru sighs, but still the smirk remains, as he leans closer to you, his large palm against the back of your chair, “you never let me kiss you in public,”
And you’re resisting the urge to bite your lip, “You know better — look at what Satoru’s done now—“
“And was it worth it, Princess?” Your mind wanders to the kiss — Satoru’s hand against the nape of your neck, his lips sliding against yours, the faint taste of the strawberry cake he had for dessert lingering on his tongue and now yours, and the sticky heat that settled over your body from the too humid night air and his warmth leeching onto your skin, and the eyes watching his need for you made it all the more—
“Maybe,” you mumble, choosing to sip at your drink as Satoru cut off your conversation with his own.
“Just deal with it, Nanami, that’s why I hired you after all, huh?” He earns a swear from Nanami for the claim that he ‘hired’ him in any way whatsoever, and then his lips curl. “No they aren’t here with me—“ the bespectacled man shouts from the other line, “eh? What do you mean I look and sound like a man who only lies?” And then he’s hanging up, running a hand through his hair, a pout on his lips, “I was supposed to wake up to the two of you, not Nanami’s tirade,” he groans, as he makes his way over to you, only to wrap his arms around you from behind.
“Well, it is your fault, Satoru,” Suguru smirks over the rim of his cup, “someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves—“
“Jealous, Suguru?” he replies, as he presses a kiss to your neck, “jealous that our princess is much more affectionate with me,”
Suguru cuts you off, “more like she babies you,” and Satoru’s face sours into a scowl, “if she had stayed at my apartment for the week, this wouldn’t have—“
“And then they would have seen me coming to your place, and what good would that do?”
“Guys—“ you try to speak, but you’re cut off again.
Suguru tilts his head with a small grin, “Are you lonely? Why don’t you find someon—“
“Stop, guys,” you couldn’t take this bickering this early in the morning, though you had grown used to it, “we have bigger problems to deal with than your egos,” you sigh, rising from Satoru’s grip even as he pouts, “we have to be more careful,”
“But how? We’ve already cut down our appearances together for behind the scenes and even stopped going out for dinner or dates,” Satoru pouts, running a hand through his hair, “next thing you’ll want to break up,”
“That’s not gonna happen,” you flick Satoru on the forehead, “but we have to do something, otherwise our agents will have us murdered,”
“And Nanami will join them for sport,” Suguru adds, and you snort, finally finishing your drink, before he walks over to you, fingers under your chin, “so what’s your idea, sweetheart?”
“Just take a break for a few weeks until the public finds something else to fixate on,” you sigh, “while the episodes air, all we’re going to get is more attention,”
“We could just take a trip,” Satoru offers, “I own a private island—“
“Of course you do,” Suguru says, and Satoru only chuckles.
“Being envious doesn’t become you, Suguru,” the snow haired actor clicks his tongue at him, before he’s pulling you into his arms, “we could go for a few days, get away from all the noise,”
“It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing, Satoru,” Suguru tilts his head, “won’t they notice if we all go on vacation at the same time?”
“Plus we have interviews to do in the coming week,” you remind Satoru, and he’s sighing, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “but maybe we can go after?”
“Unless you get that role,” Satoru mumbles against your skin, pressing sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, “have you heard anything yet?”
You shake your head, a sigh stuck in your throat, “It’s a long shot. This is such a big role and it’s for the lead,” and Suguru is finding his way to you, warm fingers cupping your cheek.
“They would be lucky to have you — do you know how many people say you were their favorite character? They were ready to fight me and Satoru for you,” he adds with a chuckle, lips ghosting over the swell of your cheek, “I think they would beat us with sheer numbers,”
“Nah, I’d win,” Satoru says, and you snort, rolling your eyes, “but he’s right princess, how crazy would they have to be not to cast you?”
“There’s so many other talented people up for the role—“
“There’s always going to be someone else,” Suguru cuts you off gently, as his fingers find yours, lacing with yours so perfectly you wondered if it’s what they were made for, “but that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable or incredible,”
“And you’re already far more talented than you give yourself credit for,” Satoru adds, “but when do you get the role, inevitably,” Suguru smirks at him, “when would shooting begin?”
“Probably just after our press wraps for season two,” you lean into their touch, “they still haven’t casted the two leads, but apparently both are down to the final audition,” and you’re pressing nosing Satoru’s cheek, before pressing a chaste kiss to Suguru’s nose, “and that’s why we’ll have to cool it for the next few weeks, ok?”
But you don’t — or rather they don’t.
“Who is Satoru Gojo’s…” Satoru rips off the tape off the cardboard printout of Googled questions, “favorite actor to work with?”
“We all know the answer to that,” Suguru replies with a sigh, his eyes sliding to you, and you roll your own.
“Look who’s talking — these two are obsessed with each other,” and Satoru has a shit eating grin, sitting back and watching the two of you argue, “the two of you are soulmates — and I’m not talking about your characters,”
“Don’t go there,” Suguru scoffs, and you tilt your head, lips curling, as your gaze meets his.
“Are you begging?” and you can’t help the way your tone bites back, falling far over the line of playful teasing and into blatant flirting, and you can only hope the camera plays off the dark glint in Suguru’s gaze as he smirks as teasing rather than what you know it is — lustful.
“You’re both wrong anyway,” Satoru cuts in, “obviously my favorite actor to work with is Megumi!”
And you and Suguru both snort, words falling from your lips in unison, “Poor Megumi,”
“Ehhh? What do you mean by that?” And Satoru smacks you both playfully with the piece of cardboard an intern probably painfully put together before tossing it away.
“What happened to Suguru Geto….” in Jujutsu Kaisen?” Suguru reads.
“Dead,” you and Satoru answer in unison, and Suguru raises an eyebrow.
“You both are a walking spoiler,” and you gape at Suguru.
“They asked, and he’s the spoiler warning — he read ahead and told me that his character—“ and Suguru covers your mouth, looking the camera dead in the eye.
“You’re welcome—ow!” And he pulls his hand away, “did you just bite me?”
“You weren’t complaining last night,” Satoru says, earning a whack to the face with the cardboard printout from Suguru, “when you tried to steal her snacks—“
And you weren’t really helping either.
“Do you think of yourself as a heartthrob?*” You ask Satoru, hooked up to a lie detector, the polygraph examiner studying the results closely, as Suguru didn’t bother biting back his smile.
“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m not—“
“It’s a yes or no question, Satoru,” you cut him off as he sighs dramatically, running a hand through his snowy locks.
“Then I’ll have to say yes,” and he’s winking at the camera, and you’re snorting, looking at the lie detector reader.
“It’s the truth,” he says simply and the examiner nods, and you scoff, as Satoru only pouts at you.
“Have you ever,” Suguru lets a chuckle escape his lips, “look at fan accounts for yourself? I can answer this one, yes he does, I’ve watched him do it—“
Satoru scoffs, doubling down, “can you blame me? My fans do such wonderful edits—“
“And inflate your ego to a catastrophic size—“ and Satoru is reaching across the table to cover your mouth.
“Be careful she bites,” Suguru warns, leaning back in his chair, as you grin against Satoru’s hand, and he shrugs, lips curling.
“Don’t worry, I like it,”
The examiner nods, “that’s the truth.”
“We’ll start out tame,” you say, as you look at the list of thirst tweets in front of you and choosing one of the more…hinged ones, “Suguru Geto, I would let you kill me like the monkey I am, and I’d thank you for it,” and you show the tweet, “monkey emoji covering their face,”
“That’s a tame one?” Suguru covers half his face with his hand, much like the emoji, “what the **** are the wild ones?” And you open your mouth to reply and he cuts you off, “I don’t want to know,”
“Sweetheart, I’ll read one for you next,” and Satoru scans his list, and he clears his throat, holding out his hand to you, your name on his lips, “the only way I could die happy ever is if I suffocated when you sat on my face,”
And heat climbs your face at his words, a single chuckle giving way to full laughter, “***, that’s a lot of pressure to put on me—“
“And on them,” Satoru adds, and you’re glaring at him only to dissolve into giggles, “I can't blame them. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go,”
“It’s my turn,” Suguru scans the list and grimaces, “I don’t want to read this,” and then he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, “I’d let Satoru Gojo **** me, spit in my mouth, and make my daddy issues worse, and I’d thank him for it, respectfully,”
And you’re doubled over in laughter by the time he gets to the end of his monotone reading, while Satoru only grins at the camera, leaning against the table, as he pulls his sunglasses on only to tilt them down his nose.
“I’m available.”
No, this press junket did not help at all.
“Fuck,” you grumble, propping yourself on your elbow, your knuckles pressed to your lips, “how are we still trending? Aren't there other things to talk about?”
“Stop checking it, it’s only making you crazy,” Suguru sighs, collapsing next to you on the couch, his hand thrown over the top of the couch, before it slips down behind you, warm palm resting on your hip, “there’s nothing you can do,”
“My agent said she’s definitely going to get news on whether I got the part tomorrow — and tomorrow is when the last episode of the season is airing, and when—“
“The scene with Kenjaku at the end, I know,” Suguru presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, “think I could pull off stitches?” He drags a finger across his forehead teasingly.
“If you’re asking for a lobotomy, I always wanted to try doing one,” Satoru walks in from the shower, hair still damp, as he squeezes on your other side, “Princess, you can be my nurse, hm?”
“Did you already have one?” Suguru bites back, and Satoru doesn’t reply, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “she’s still worried about tomorrow,”
“Don’t you know there’s no such thing as bad publicity?” Satoru presses a sweet kiss to your neck.
“Not when they’re speculating if I’m dating or cheating on one or both of you,” you shake your head, “what if the director thinks I’m a liability?”
“If the director thinks you’re a liability after seeing your work and meeting you, then he’s clearly blind,”
You flick his sunglasses down, “can you say that four eyes?”
“Don’t you mean six eyes?” Satoru sticks his tongue out at him, and Suguru’s fingers find yours, laced hands against your thigh, “whatever happens, happens — you know your worth,”
“And your worth is far too high for you — only I could afford it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you shove Satoru, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you against him, his lips grazing the soft skin behind your ear, “how much?”
“For you? A billion dollars,” and his lips find yours in a kiss, lazy but warm, heat from his touch spreading like a flames carried by the wind.
“That all? What a bargain,” Satoru pulls a breath away, his lips curled in a grin, only for Suguru’s fingers to cup your chin and make you turn around.
Deep purple irises you grew lost in, his thumb dragging down your kiss bitten lips, “and for our princess?” He hums, lips grazing yours teasingly, “a steal,”
“Well, you both stole my heart so you might as well have the rest,” and Suguru’s lips finally find yours in a real kiss, deep and full, until your mind is filled with nothing but him — and Satoru, whose lips ghost over your shoulder and collarbone and hands slip under your shirt, warm palms against your far too heated skin, “fuck—“ you’re sighing, melting agaisnt them, “Sugu, Toru,” you’re whining already, drawing smirks to both of their lips.
“Let us take care of you, sweetheart,” Satoru whispers, lips finding your earlobe and sucking at the sensitive skin, and Suguru pulls away from your kiss for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips.
“We’ll get your mind off things, Princess,” and his fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, “all night long.”
And they do, they keep their promise — the three of you falling into bed in a jumble of limbs, and you forget until the next morning.
And in the morning—you get the call, “okay, thank you,” you hang up, still between mussed sheets and arms wrapped around your waist, “I got it!”
“Heh, I knew you would,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in your side, “I’m so proud of you, baby,”
“Hm? Proud of her for what?” Suguru murmurs, half asleep, black locks strewn around his head like a halo.
“I got the role, Sugu,” you lean down and kiss his nose, and he’s grinning wide, fingers winding into the back of your head to pull into a kiss, “you’re looking at the leading actor of a movie,”
“You’re going to be in demand now, Princess,” Suguru says, dragging a thumb down your lips, “will you still make time for us?”
“Of course, always — you’ll visit me on set right?”
“You sure, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll be too busy for us,” Satoru leans up and presses a kiss on your neck.
“Maybe for you,” and he’s pouting, and you lean down to kiss his pout away, and then you get an email, “oh it’s the casting sheet for the other roles,” you scan the list, “oh,”
“‘Oh?’” Suguru raises an eyebrow.
“The male lead, he’s someone we know,” you sigh, rubbing your temples, “and I’m already getting a headache,”
Satoru furrows his brow, as the two of them lean over your shoulders to look — Satoru scowling and Suguru glaring at your screen, as they say his name at the same time — as if summoning him from the underworld.
“Sukuna?”
Ryomen Sukuna was both famous and infamous in the industry — famous for his portrayals of villains and antiheroes alike, ability to make you despise the enemy to the point of near or blatant admiration, and his skill of stepping into each role and taking it as his own. And he lives in infamy for, well, what happens between takes of the camera.
“Look any longer and I’ll have you thrown off set, brat,” Sukuna says, without a glance at you, newspaper in hand as if he was pulled from thirty years ago, his phone seemingly laying discarded on a nearby. The P.A.s nearby cower a few feet away, trying to look preoccupied, as their terror has fully set in of this man.
Or should you say monster?
“I see the stick up your ass makes you as pleasant as ever,” you mutter, and you don’t see that it earns you a smirk from him, his dark gaze takes over you, earning a glare from you, “now who’s staring?”
He leans against the arm of his chair, “I was just noticing how lovely the view is without those two pests hanging on your every word,” and you’re rolling your eyes.
“Jealous?”
“Of your little throuple? No,” he smirks, rising from his chair, hands sliding into his pockets as he brushes by you, “because unlike those two,” he pauses, voice dropping to a whisper, “I know how to satisfy a woman on my own,”
And you grit your teeth, holding your tongue — your relationship with Satoru and Suguru was a badly kept secret on the set or Jujutsu Kaisen, but it never was a problem — until now.
You follow behind him, heading to the director’s trailer for your meeting before rehearsals began.
“You want us to what?”
“We spoke to your agents, and they agreed with us that it would be good publicity for the two of you to pretend to be a couple during the filming and leading up to production,” the director leans back in his seat, “it shouldn’t be a problem — the two of you have worked together before right?”
You can’t hide your aghast expression in time, not before Sukuna glances at your face and sees the horror, and it puts a rare grin on his lips, “I’m in, what’s a little more acting?”
You’re swallowing thickly, eyes flitting over Sukuna’s smug grin so fast you only hoped your gaze was sharp enough to cut, “Can I please speak to you privately?”
And Sukuna gets up from the edge of the table he leaned against, flashing you a wry grin, “see you out there, sweetheart,” and you wished you could rip out his heart and show him how very sweet you were — but you bite your tongue, waiting for the door to swing shut, “I—“
���Do you know part of the reason we choose you over the other actor vying for your role?” The director cuts you off, arms crossed over his chest, and you shut your mouth, shaking your head, “Jujutsu Kaisen has done tremendously this season — one of the most viewed shows across the world and do you know part of the reason?” and again you shake your head, “your P.R. stunts with Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto,”
You knit your brow together — not your talent, your work, or art — but your boyfriends? “Your ability to have chemistry with the both of them have enticed the public and the number of times you’ve trended alone this season—“
Your fingers curl into fists, “With all due respect—“
“If you do this, the film will be a hit — i see you two already, there’s chemistry—“
You scoff, “more like a fucking bomb,” you mutter, running your fingers through your hair, “bottom line, do I have a choice?”
“You do,” he says, arms crossed, “but so do I,” fuck, you grit your teeth.
You emerge from the office, Sukuna waiting right outside, leaning against the wall right beside the doors, “you fucking make this difficult—“
“And you’ll do what, brat?” his face twists with his frown, as he leans over, lumbering over you, “what do you think you could do to me?” And he’s clicking his tongue, the condescension rolling off of it, “director told us to play nice, so be nice,” his lips curl, “but I like you mean too,”
He stalks off and you’re scrubbing a hand down your face. You were so fucking screwed.
“You what?” Satoru’s mouth gaped at you, twisted in pure disgust, while Suguru only stared at you, as expressionless as Satoru was expressive, “and you agreed?”
“She didn’t have a choice, Satoru—“
“That’s because the bastard didn’t give her a choice,” Satoru’s face twists again, this time in anger, brow furrowed, but lips in a sharp smile, “so why don’t we not give him a choice either?” Satoru is pulling his phone out.
“What are you doing—don’t—“
“One call, and I’ll have this guy firing Sukuna—“
“And there goes any actors or directors who will want to work for me if these guys go off, and you know they will,” you shake your head, “I’ve run this — it’s either I do the movie or I don’t,”
Suguru frowns, hands in his pockets, “What do you want to do?”
Your face in your hands, “I don’t want to drop the movie because of this, I can’t—“
“Then you do it,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, and Suguru tilts his head at him, “and after you become the biggest star out there, I’ll take care of that director and Sukuna,”
You and Suguru both snort, “Well that was verging on heartfelt,” Suguru shakes his head, “but he’s right, you can’t let two bullies kick you off your movie, you earned this role — and when you act circles around everyone else, you’ll have carried it too,”
You wrap your arms around both of them, “How’d I get so lucky?” You murmur, and Satoru’s nose brushes against yours before meeting your lips, while Suguru kisses wet kisses against your neck, “encouragement and threats of violence,” and Satoru only grins, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips.
“Anytime, sweetheart,” and Suguru rolls his eyes, before his arm slips around your waist.
“And he really means anytime, last time you talked to Toji, he pouted for two hours,” Satoru glared at Suguru, while you laughed, pulling the snowy haired actor close.
“It’s so cute when you’re jealous, Toru,” you kiss his chin, eyes sliding to Suguru, “but you’re terrifying,”
“What are you talking about?” And Satoru chuckles, tilting his head.
“You mentioned me during Toji? You nearly yanked our princess away from him,” and Suguru furrows his brow, lips a thin line, “maybe we should drop by during rehearsals,”
You scoff, “Yeah that sounds like a terrible idea,” and Suguru’s arms are wrapping around you, “Sugu—“
“If we can’t spend as much time together, then we better make this time count, isn’t that right, Satoru?”
“You’re right,” and Satoru’s hands slide under your baggy t-shirt, “better use all the time we have,” and as they lead you to the bedroom, your limbs entangled, you knew you weren’t sleeping that night.
But you didn’t know that would be the last time you’d be sleeping with them at all for the next month.
“You have to cut down the time you spend with anyone else — especially other men,” your agent told you, “that goes for Gojo and Geto too,”
“Why is this role controlling everything in my real life too?” you mutter under your breath, “why does it matter we won’t get caught—“
“Like all the other times you didn’t get caught?” and your words leave you abandoned as no articulate response comes to mind, “it’s for a couple months. You can have them visit on set, you can still see them once a month, but not every day,”
“But why—“
“Once a month reduces your chance of being seen with them exponentially over the next few months. Just deal with it. After this, you won’t have to put up with bullshit,” she hangs up, as you stare at your phone screen, squeezing it at the sight of Satoru and Suguru’s good luck texts — and why did it feel like you still always would have to keep putting up with bullshit?
“Better not fucking cry. We have to pretend to fall in love in ten minutes — I would rather not be looking at something ugly this early,” Sukuna cuts into your thoughts, hands in his pockets, as he sips his coffee.
Exhibit A.
“We’re not shooting for an hour,” you were on set after getting ready, waiting for the weather to clear up for the shoot, and he gives a gruff chuckle
“Not that shoot.”
“Looks like Sukuna not only has taken over Itadori’s body, but also the heart of one of Jujutsu Kaisen’s fan favorites,” you groan, earbud slipping out for a moment, just like your life was slipping, “the actress and co-star were spotted getting cozy off set before shooting had even begun for the day,”
Oh what the fuck.
You toss your phone away before falling back in bed, far too empty without Satoru and Suguru, only their pillows to keep you company as you twisted in the sheets. You had passed off your social media to your agent to handle — it was bad enough when you were caught in a love triangle with Satoru and Suguru, but now Sukuna? You can only imagine what people would say about you.
And you didn’t need to see it to do that.
But that wasn’t important. It was your day off, you turned over in bed, burying your face against your boyfriends pillows — nothing a nap couldn’t fix.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Or maybe not. You slide from the arms of sleep reluctantly, already missing the warmth of the covers as the cold air hits your skin. You’re rubbing your eyes as you check who it is before opening it.
“Satoru? What are you—“ and his arms are around you in a moment, your breath catching, “Toru—“
“You see what they’re saying online?” His gaze is stoic, lips a thin line.
“We can’t—“ and he’s shutting the door before locking it, before he’s had you pressed against the wood, the grain dragging against your skin.
“They said you two make the perfect couple,” he cups your chin, his breath warming your lips, “even more than me or Suguru—“ his hand slides against the swell of your hip, “a walk, a coffee? Was that all?”
Your brow knits together “Of course, you know I would never—“ and his lips ghost over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, nosing at the soft skin of your neck, “Toru—“ you bite your bottom lip.
“I know you wouldn’t, sweetheart, I know,” he says softly, “but I have to make sure he knows that,” his teeth grazes over your soft skin, “knows that you’re mine,” and his teeth digs into your soft flesh, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips, pain melting into pleasure, as your head lolls back against the door.
“Toru, no I have rehearsals in a week,” you whine, but that just makes him soothe the blooming love bite with his tongue, “Toru—“
“Do you really want me to stop now, sweetheart?” he’s pulling your mouth open with his thumb, “your face says you don’t,” and his large palm slides down your body and into your shorts, the wet squelch and the brush of his fingers through the drenched fabric, “and your pretty cunt seems to agree,”
“Toru,” you’re biting your lip, “fuck, you’re impossible,” and his mouth travels lower, as his other hand slides up under your shirt, squeezing your chest.
“You’re the one who slept without anything under your clothes,” he murmurs in your ear, lips sliding against your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin there, “you’re so wet already, hear that? Did you touch yourself thinking of us? Want us to fuck you that bad after a week?” his lips ghost over your jaw.
“Fuck, you talk so much,” you’re pouting, thighs pressing together, but he’s pushing them apart, “why are you teasing me so much?”
And he pauses, ocean blues stormy instead of the tranquil skies you’re used to, “Sukuna touched you. He got to hold you,” he’s pouting now, “that privilege is for us, and he got to so easily,”
“I didn’t want him to,” and he’s nuzzling your neck.
“Let me erase his touch,” and he’s lifting you with the practiced ease he always had.
“Where’s Suguru—“ and you yelp as he playfully tosses you on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head with one hand, a grin as he watches you bounce.
“He’ll be here later,” and he’s kissing up your body, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts to pull them down, half lidded eyes with deep lust finding yours, “for now, you’re all mine.”
“I-I can’t,” you’re whimpering, your hands clutching at Satoru’s back, fingernails digging crescents into his perfect skin, only hoping he doesn’t have a shirtless shoot tomorrow, but you barely can register that with three of his fingers in your pussy, “Toru,”
How many times had you orgasmed? Six or seven at least — it was nearly second nature at this point. Satoru knew what spots to touch, where to press, how to move to have you writhing underneath him in a moment. He’s knuckle deep, spreading your walls as his thumb toys with your clit, drawing another moan from your lips. Your release soaked his fingers and sheets underneath, his fingers surely wrinkled from their time spent inside your walls.
And by his smirk against the swell of your breast, he knew it.
“Yes you can baby, I know you have one more f’me,” and you’re already so close, but you have been — it’s been a repeated coil winding and snapping over and over, and you’re nearly to tears, back arching as he plunges his fingers somehow deeper, “know this pretty pussy too well, look at the way you’re sucking me in,” your insides flutter around his digits again, the tips dragging against your walls, “practically begging me to fuck you more, sweetheart,”
“I’ll say,” and your eyes barely can flit up to meet Suguru’s wry smile, corners of his lips curled, “I see you’re as impatient as ever, Satoru — started without me,” and he’s tugging his shirt over his head, “but at least you’ve gotten her ready for me,”
“Sugu—“ and Satoru adds a fourth finger, stuffed full with him, drawing a gasp from your lips.
“Don’t want you to say Suguru’s name when I’m the one pleasuring you,” Sstoru clicks his tongue, “wanna hear you moan my name, sweetheart, when I make you cum,”
“You’ll have plenty of chances to moan my name,” you make a whining noise in the back of your throat, pleasure felt as if it had burned out your nerves, but it still was able to overload them, the throbbing in your cunt a telltale sign, “you g’nna cum, pretty? Use your words for me?”
“G’nna cum—ngh, Toru,” you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, your walls wring his fingers as you cum, hard, your head thrown back against the pillow. And the squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.
“Fuck, she’s so pretty everytime she falls apart for us,” Suguru groans, as Satoru leans over to kiss you, “so good for us, Princess,” you only moan in reply, lost in the pleasure that still floods your body, as Satoru pulls his fingers from you.
And your eyes catch a glimpse of Satoru licking his fingers clean, one by one, “Still the sweetest thing I’ve ever had,”
“Don’t hog her, Satoru,” Suguru is pulling Satoru away, settling between your thighs, “you both made such a mess,” and you gasp, as his lithe fingers brush against your still too sensitive folds, spreading them only for your juices to slip out, “I’m always stuck cleaning up, but in this case,” he drags the flat of his tongue up your needy cunt, a moan falling from your lips, as your fingers fisted in his black locks, “I don’t mind at all.”
But that night wasn’t the end of it — no, not by far.
It wasn’t enough for them to ravish you, now they have to show up on set — their schedules lining up just perfect to see your rehearsals (though you think their schedules had some help from using the words “contagious” and “sickly”). However the only thing they were seemingly sick with was jealousy — especially so as you sat with Sukuna, going over lines for the next scene.
You rubbed at your neck, feeling lucky that the marks they left had faded, but they still had begged you to show up to the shoot.
“We won’t make you uncomfortable,” Satoru pouted, nuzzling your side, as you snort.
“Just like you said you wouldn’t leave hickies on me?” You scoff, and suguru buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses along the marks Satoru left.
“She has a point,” Suguru murmurs, but Satoru only pouts, “but I would like to be on set so that freak doesn’t try anything,” and you run your fingers through Satoru’s snowy locks, while leaning into Suguru’s touch, “he has a reputation of making moves on all his co-stars,”
“So? It’s not like I’ll let him,” and Satoru’s gotten you pinned to the bed, your hands trying to break free but you can’t.
“It’s not a matter of letting him, it’s matter of him trying to do something you don’t want,” and your brows knit together, as Satoru presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“There’ll be other people—“
“Other people who may very well look the other way, for someone like Ryomen Sukuna,” Suguru sighs, words almost whispered against your ear, “you know that’s how this business can be,” and it was — it could be. The Jujutsu Kaisen set was a rare exception, but this movie — the director’s words still ringing in your ears — it was different.
“Let us just make sure you’re safe, make sure you’re okay, and then we’ll go.”
And that’s how you ended up with their states boring into the back of your head.
“You bringing a pair of guard dogs with you everywhere now?” Sukuna spares a glance at your boyfriends, who were relegated to stand near your trailer — Satoru stood, arms crossed over his white t-shirt, a black jacket thrown over it, his blue eyes narrowed in frustration, as if his crossed arms were the only things holding him back from throttling Sukuna. While Suguru leaned against your trailer, scrolling on his phone in his dark navy button up, stealing glances at the two of you, his eyes narrowed and lips a thin line, “don’t know if they are ready to rip you apart or me,”
You bite your tongue, wanting to say they had already ripped you apart last night, but you only shook your head, “They insisted on coming today, I don’t know why,”
He grunts in reply, “It’s bad timing on your end, brat,” and your eyes snap to his, and he tilts his head, leaning against his hand, “you didn’t hear? The director wants us to film our big kiss at the end of the movie,”
Your blood runs cold, “Since when?”
“Since you were late to our morning meeting, assuredly because of those two,” he jerks his head in the direction of Satoru and Suguru, before giving them both a wide grin, “they don’t know do they?” Your silence is all the answer Sukuna needs to give a rare laugh, “oh this will be entertaining, brat, and I thought acting with you would be boring.”
Oh, you’re fucking screwed.
“Cut!” The director called for the billionth time, and you were about ready to wring his neck, and you were not the only one — if looks could kill, Satoru and Suguru would have had the director skewered a million times over by now. Unfortunately for them, looks did not kill, “we need more passion,”
And you’re biting back a groan, as Sukuna smirks, leaning over to whisper, “don’t look so disappointed, I see the two idiots haven’t taught you to kiss,”
“More like the partner I have doesn’t make kissing him appealing,” you bite back, running a hand through your hair as you spoke to the intimacy coordinator again, but your eyes keep sliding over to Satoru and Suguru, “fuck,” how were you supposed to do this with them staring you down?
“Let’s try it again,” you both get in place for the shot, the clap of the clapperboard, as Sukuna’s fingers brushed against your cheek again. You stepped into the role, letting yourself be consumed with the passion of your character, channeling what you felt for your own loves.
And finally your lips met his — you felt nothing, only the pressure of lips meeting one another, but you tried to show emotion, fingers clutching at his shirt in desperation, the small gasps and sighs parting your lips between kisses, and the way your hand then slid up to rest at the nape of his neck.
“I love you, more than anything,” you murmur against his lips, nose brushing against his, “more than anyone. You can’t go. Not without me,”
“What choice do I have?” Sukuna mutters back, his arm coiling around your waist, “it’s too dangerous for you to come along,”
“Who said you get to make my decisions for me?” your lips curl, “and who says I can’t buy my own ticket to come with you?” And he’s shaking his head, “listen,” your fingers cup his cheek, “don’t think, just let it happen,” and you’re leaning even closer, breath warming his lips, his breath hitching.
“Cut!” And you’re trying to pull away, but Sukuna holds you there, leaning forward, making you flinch, only to whisper in your ear.
“Sorry, just wanted to give them more of a show,” and he lets go, lips curled in a wide grin, “looks like we have a break now, so have fun, but not too much,” he laughs, as the director beckons him over.
You glance at Satoru and Suguru — oh fuck.
“Sugu—uumph—“ Suguru barely let you get a step inside the trailer before he pinned you to the metal door, his hands dragged over your sides.
“Hold still, Princess, I have to overwrite every place he touched you,” his fingers trace over your cheeks, lips grazing your jaw, his thumb dragged over your lips, before catching on your tongue, “did you brush your tongue against his — run it over the seam of his lips before slipping it inside? Flick it over like you do? Did you enjoy kissing him, sweetheart?”
“Of course I didn’t—“ and Satoru’s taking the opportunity to kiss you, teeth dragging over your bottom lip.
“Course she didn’t, but I’m sure he did,” Satoru’s fingers traced over your jaw, “enjoyed our sweets’ even sweeter lips, didn’t he?” And Satoru kisses down your jaw, while Suguru is sinking down to his knees, large palms sliding up and hiking up your dress, “should leave some marks to remind him who you belong to,” his teeth dig into the soft of your flesh.
“Toru! No, I still have to finish the shoot — the makeup artists—“ you whine, but god, it feels so good, as his tongue flicks against his teeth marks, “fuck,”
“Be careful, someone will hear you, Princess,” Suguru murmurs, soft kisses to your inner thighs, “hear how good you’ll feel,” his teeth sink into your thigh, nipping and sucking, “and how good we’re both making you feel,”
“Sugu, ah, I—fuck,” and Satoru is eagerly swallowing your moans with his lips, taking the chance to slip his tongue in, while Suguru noses at the soft of your thigh.
“She’s already dripping, how are you so pretty here, Princess?” And he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, not that you could with Satoru’s tongue down your throat, as his lips press a kiss to your messy folds, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “tastes even better,” he moans, sound reverberating against your sensitive cunt.
“Oh that won’t do at all, we’ve barely started,” Satoru tsks all the while tugging your sleeves down to reveal your bare chest underneath the dress barely on your body at this point, crumpled fabric pushed up and down into the middle by them, “no bra, Princess? For us or for the camera?”
“For you,” you manage between moans, Suguru’s tongue tracing teasing circles around your clit, “always for you—“ the word trails off into a moan, as Suguru meanly sucks on the sensitive nub, “ngh, fuck—“ your knees are buckling, quaking as if your bones were made of rubber, a gasp pulled from your lips, when Satoru’s lips press a teasing kiss to your already erect nipple, while he toys with the other between his forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling. And he switches, welcoming the other with a graze of his teeth and the flick of his tongue.
The sounds of the lewd squelch of Suguru’s mouth against your dripping cunt filled your ears, volts from his touch reaching every inch of you, “so wet f’me, pretty, you like thinking someone could hear us fucking you?” Suguru mutters, his lips pulling away for a moment, as his long fingers spread your folds for him — every inch of you exposed, “fuck, you’ve dripped all over the floor of the trailer, Princess,”
“All that just from Suguru’s mouth?” Satoru smirks, dragging a finger down your puffy lips, while his other hand gropes at your breast, “imagine how sopping you’ll be when we fuck you,”
And you’re whining, as Suguru teases your entrance with a finger, “You fuckers—“ you yelp as Suguru picks you up with ease and tosses you into the nearby bed — a request you had made so you could nap between scenes or during times you weren’t needed on set — not that you had gotten to use it, until now.
Satoru’s pulling the dress up and over your head, tossing the garment away, both of their gazes dragging over your exposed skin. Satoru flips you onto your stomach, and you hear the creak of the bed behind you and you know Suguru repositioned himself between your thighs.
“On your knees, pretty,” Suguru’s hands are lifting your legs, his fingers already teasing your sopping hole again, and he’s bracing an arm around your thighs, “such a good girl,” and his fingertips breach you only to pull away, even as your walls try to beckon him inside.
“Fuck,” you’re groaning, needy cunt begging for release, you needed it, needed it so bad.
“Such a filthy mouth,” Satoru clicks his tongue, as he undoes the buckle of his belt, tugging his boxers and pants down to free his weeping erection. And god, his cock is so pretty — long and pink, with beads of pearly precum dripping from the slit, lovely veins running up and down his length, “how ‘bout I put it to use sweetheart?”
And the tip brushes against your face, smearing against your lips, before you part your lips and let his dick slap against your tongue, before letting it part your pretty lips. The tip of your tongue traces his slit, tasting his pre, as you sucked and licked along his length, until his sweet grunts slipped from his lips. And fuck, you know he would feel so good inside you, long cock reaching the places he always did and that you never could.
But it was hard for you to stay focused when Suguru bas two thick fingers buried in your right cunt, dragging against your walls, moaning around Satoru’s length. And it feels almost too good, as if you’d melt between them, burning from their touches. And you’d still always ask for more.
Satoru’s fingers dig into your locks, as he moans, “Fuck, s’good for me, baby,” his hips buck against your mouth, his hair sticking to his forehead, sticky with sweat, “not gonna last much longer, Suguru,”
And Suguru pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his face still sticky with your cum, as you whine at the absence, “she’s not either, but I think she needs something more,” and you feel his cockhead drag against your folds, and you’re whining, “not gonna put it inside baby, too much of a mess, and can’t do too much, can we?” And you feel his lips curl in a smirk, “after all, your boyfriend out there might mind,” he’s pressing your thighs together, beginning to rock forward, sending you deeper onto Satoru’s cock, making him hiss.
“Fuck, take it, sweetheart,” his fingers tilting your head up slightly to find your eyes glazed over in pleasure, puffy lips with saliva and precum dripping from the corners, and it only makes him want to fuck your throat, “gonna go back on set like this? All messy from your ‘side pieces?’”
“Fuck, she twitched hard when you said that,” Suguru is fucking between your thighs, his hard cock rubbing against your dripping slit again and again, delicious friction sending you closer and closer, “fuck, g’nna cum for me sweet girl?”
And you’re moaning around Satoru, and his tip brushes against your throat with one particularly hard thrust from Suguru, and that’s it.
Satoru’s moaning your name, unable to hold back, as he cums in your mouth, his hot load pouring down your throat, dick twitching as it continues to spurt as he rocks his hips into you. Suguru pinches and rubs your clit hard, rocking his leaking cock into you, and you cum, walls fluttering around nothing, as you soak him in your release.
The moans of their names on your lips send Suguru tumbling over too, as he pulls back and pumps, before cumming all over your back with his thick seed.
You’re pulling yourself off Satoru, with a wet pop, cum and spit trickling down your lips, as your tongue flicks out to clean it off. And Satoru groans, as he lays down and settles beside you, “don’t make me fuck you right here,”
And Suguru helps you turn on your side, legs still shaking from your orgasm, as he slips up behind you, his softening cock pressed against you, pressing sweet kisses to your sweat soaked skin.
“Think anyone heard us?” you mumble, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, and their chuckles rumble against you, making you shiver.
Suguru answers, “No, if someone did, they would have come—“
There’s a harsh knock on the door, followed by the call of your name, “The director’s calling you to set,” it was your agent’s voice, “so I suggest all three of you clean up and come out.”
Well, fuck.
“How has shooting the film been so far?”
“It’s been wonderful. It’s so different from filming a television series, and I’ve loved learning the nuances of film and how it’s made,” you say, sitting in the worlds most uncomfortable chair behind Sukuna, who managed to look interestedly disinterested.
“Speaking of which, you two have worked together before, right?”
“We have,” Sukuna replies before you have a chance to answer, “the two of us haven’t had many scenes together before, so being able to finally act together is…fate,”
You force yourself to give a wry smile, “I forget he’s such a romantic, when he isn’t too busy calling me a brat,” the words slip out and you’re instantly regretting your words — fuck, fuck, fuck. You really just said Ryomen Sukuna called you brat — in an interview that will air on TV but also live on the internet.
“A brat huh?” The interviewer chuckled awkwardly, “is she a bit of a diva on set?”
“Oh and off,” Sukuna’s grin grows all the more wide, leaning against his hand and stealing a glance at you, “but I know how to tame her,” and you self consciously tug at your high neck sweater, the bites Satoru and Suguru well concealed — and you’d never have him pass it off as his own.
Oh, you would kill him. If not for the fact that you had dug your own grave, and he only did you the favor of pushing you in and burying you. No the only funeral was your own.
“How bad?” You ask your agent on the way home, earbuds in your ear as you sit in the back of the car, partition up as the driver makes their way to your home.
“How bad? You mean how great! We’re getting so much traffic on that interview. People keep talking about you and Sukuna. You’re trending again,” and that was the last thing you wanted to hear and the first thing she wanted to tell you.
Why the fuck did you want to be an actor again?
“What are they saying about me?”
“There’s some negative stuff about both of you, but that’s expected — mostly people surprisingly, uh, like you better with Sukuna than Gojo or Geto—“
“What? Why?” God, fuck the public’s want for an older man.
“I don’t know. You guys have this chemistry in interviews. The way you guys banter it feels so personal and electric I guess?” Her voice almost makes it sounds like she agreed.
“Are you saying that or the fans?” The only thing electric about your conversation with Sukuna was the feeling of rage running through your veins faster than a million volts.
“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s mostly fangirls of Gojo and Geto who are relieved they aren’t taken,” she adds, your silence seemingly scaring her, “you should look on the bright side, people are really excited for the movie, and after what happened in your trailer…the director’s happy too,” you see a text from Satoru and Suguru.
The Boys 💕🤍🖤
Bangs Baby: when are you coming home?
Six Eyed Dork: we’re already making dinner.
And you scrub a hand down your face, never having such irritation over the prospect of dinner, “Tell that to my makeup artist,” because you know you’ll be littered with marks by the end of this.
“We’re adding a sex scene,” and you nearly spit out your drink that morning, sitting at the round table with the director, several staff members, and an extremely unfazed Sukuna.
“What?” you say, trying hold your tongue, that was only writhing under your hold to say something much, much worse, “that’s not anywhere in the script or the source material,”
“It was my suggestion,” Sukuna lifts his hand casually, before pressing his hand to his chin, painted black nails gleaming in the dim light of the early morning, “the characters felt lacking,”
Then play your role better. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead you ask, “how so?”
And Sukuna glances at the director, who clears his throat, eyes shifting from him to you, “We thought it would be better to build more intimacy between the characters. Add a certain level of—“
“Raunchiness?” you scoff.
“Tasteful raunchiness,” Sukuna corrects, doing nothing to suppress his smirk, “if you don’t want to, I’m sure we can make due with the stunt double—“
Fucker. He could have his pick of any movie — he was a pillar of the industry, but you had to be stuck with him. And stuck with the director following his every, irritating whim.
You grit your teeth, “when are we shooting it?” And Sukuna grins wider, leaning back in his chair.
“About that—“
“You’re going where?” You resisted the urge to rub at your temples, as you pack your things, Satoru’s pout filling the majority of the screen.
“You heard me. We’re filming in Canada,” with a flight that left the next day, you barely had time to pack, much less talk. Fuck, you don’t have a thing for the cold, but you were told that coats and thermals would be provided — or at least they better be, “I’ll be gone for a couple weeks,” you say, wondering if the sounds of you packing would be enough to drown out or enough sweaters would somehow soften the blow.
“Weeks?” Suguru repeats, taking the phone from Satoru, “sweetheart, you had said filming would be over soon enough — you said a month of filming in Japan—,” and you sigh, it seems like you had been doing a lot of that lately.
The throbbing in your head only got worse — the long shoots and lack of sleep weighing on your body like iron weights around your neck, “I know, love, but the director wanted to add more scenes,” you swallow the lump in your throat, “there’s one more thing,” and Satoru is pushing into view of the camera as well, a click of Suguru’s as he shoots a glare at him, “the director decided to add…an intimate scene to the film,”
Silence, but Suguru speaks first, “And that wasn’t in the script before?” And you shake your head.
Satoru gives a bitter laugh, “Such bullshit. They planned it and got you to invest yourself in the movie—“ he cuts himself off, “sweetheart, I want to have a word with the director,”
“No, Toru, it won’t help,” you run your fingers through your hair, trying to keep your tone level, “it just won’t. It will just make me look like I have to rely on my boyfriends for protection,”
“It still isn’t right, what they are doing to you is exploitative,” Suguru cuts in, “adding a sex scene last minute after you already spent weeks filming—“
“You don’t think I know that?” you say quietly, “what am I supposed to do? Quit? Let you guys run to the director to protect me? Great, either way, my career would be over,” the words slip out far more cutting than you want, but this has been a knife you’ve honed against stones thrown at you, and you were tired of being the one to take the blows.
Satoru furrows his brow, “What are we supposed to do? Watch you get taken advantage of?”
“No, but don’t talk down to me like I don’t understand what’s happening,” you snap, “these weeks I’ve had to deal with fucking Sukuna and these shoots, while balancing your feelings too and I’m tired of it. I’m just done,” you shake your head, willing your voice not to break, “I’ll text you both when I board and land, ok?”
“Sweetheart—“
“Baby—“
“Bye,” and you hang up, eyes burning not just from your lack of sleep but now everything else too. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t see them. You couldn’t quit the movie. You couldn’t fix this. You couldn’t do anything — you glanced at your suitcase — except keep going.
“You look like hell,” you don’t bother looking at Sukuna when he speaks, and out of all the seats, how did you end up next to him? Either you had the absolute worst luck in the world — or bad luck had a little help from your agents and the director.
“You look like you’d know—been to your kingdom lately?” you’re placing your suitcase away when a flight attendant rushes over to do it for you, and you thank them, before rifling through your bag for your headphones. Noise canceling headphones that were going to be your best friend as long as you were stuck with him.
“Why visit a kingdom when my queen is here?” Your eye twitches, and you only wish that planes worked the same as ships when it came to jurisdiction. And if so, you would have tossed him into the high seas without a second though. You could start over — no extradition on Satoru’s island.
You glanced at your phone — no reply to your text about getting on the second flight. And they had both barely responded to your other texts about boarding and landing. Maybe it was your fault. You had blown up at them, and ignored all their calls and texts all day, until they finally stopped (even Satoru had given up sending you selfies of him crying). You switched it into airplane mode and locked it, tucking it away into your bag, before taking your seat and buckling your seatbelt.
“Trouble in paradise?” And you scowl, pulling out your headphones, “c’mon you can tell me about your other boyfriends — I know I’m your favorite,”
“Do you ever shut up?” You put your headphones on, your eyes growing heavy as the plane begins to prepare for take off. You choose a playlist, and start to fall asleep. The only good thing about this flight was you could finally get some sleep.
And maybe your life wouldn’t be hell when you woke up.
“I already got us a private jet,” Satoru walks into Suguru’s place, suitcase in hand, as he tugs his mask off, “we can be in Canada by tomorrow—we just need to pack—“
“What are you talking about?” Suguru looks up from his phone, “have you even thought this through, dumbass? She barely wants us coming over because of paparazzi, you think if someone sees us in Canada with her that they will write it off as a coincidence?”
“If we’re careful, it won’t come to that,” he sets down his things, “you heard her, Suguru, she said she’s done,”
“She’s just tired and frustrated,” Suguru sighs, tossing his phone aside, “we haven’t exactly made this any easier on her either,”
“I know, which is why we should go make it up to her,” Satoru sighed, “I can tell by her texts that she’s upset — it’s all periods and short one word responses. Y’know that’s bad,” he’s pulling out his phone to show Suguru your texts — and Suguru ignored the several sad selfies Satoru had sent, before handing it back.
“And we should make her more upset by doing the one thing she told us not to do?” Suguru shakes his head, “we’re better off waiting for her to calm down and come to us—“ and Satoru stares at his phone, “what is it? Did she text?”
“No, worse,” he shows Suguru a news article — ARE THINGS HEATING UP ON AND OFF SET? SUKUNA SPOTTED WITH HIS COSTAR GETTING COZY ON PLANES AND IN THE AIRPORT.
And below were images of you and him asleep, fingers interlaced on the plane, and a picture of him with his arm around your waist walking through the airport.
Suguru’s eyes narrow, “Do you want risk losing her, Suguru?” And he knows it’s a bad idea, he knows it may only make things worse, but — he looks at the pictures of you and Sukuna again — losing you would be far worse.
“When’s the flight?”
CLICK!
You stir at the sound, as you hear it again and again, shifting in your sleep. Fuck, what was that noise? Everything’s heavy, thoughts swimming through thick syrup as it tries to break to the surface and into consciousness. Another click makes you grasp at your headphones with one hand, the other caught on something, but you feel nothing but your neck and shirt. And finally, your eyes fly open just to find a camera lens in front of your face, and something holding your hand.
Or rather someone.
“What the—“
“Finally woke up? How was your coma?” and the photographers are shooed away, as you pull your fingers free only for him to drop your hand, wiping your hand on the seat, “I didn’t do anything but hold it,” he shrugs, “probably—“
You scowl, “my headphones?” He holds them up, and you gape at him, “they fell off. You’re quite the restless sleeper,” and you snatch them back.
“They fell off or you took them off for that photo op,” you snap, glancing at him, “since when did I give my permission to be photographed while sleeping?”
“When you decided to go into this business,” he replies drily, dry as his skin was from holding his hand, “are you that naive? Can anyone keep anything from anyone without paying them off one way or another? I’m pretty sure that’s how your little throuple does it,”
And you couldn’t deny it — the paparazzi more than ever was a toll or a tool — a toll to pay when you wanted word to stay quiet, and a tool when you wanted things to blow up. And Satoru had been paying them off since the three of you had started this — insisting that his connection gave him discounts, but it was more likely to blow his father’s money.
“So what was that photo op about?” The plane is slowly descending now, your ears popping, as you spare a glance outside, and he only scoffs, as if to ask if you were that stupid?
“To announce our arrival.”
“Why are there so many security guards and people?” you mutter, tugging at your mask, as you hurry through the airport with what felt like a military and police escort of men around you.
“To create a scene, generate interest,” Sukuna seemed uninterested as he strolled along the airport, raising an eyebrow, “not used to this? The adoring fans,” and you spare a glance at the crowds, taking pictures more than even looking at your actual faces.
“This is adoring?” and then the security guards begin to stumble as the crowd grows a rowdy, as people push through to get through their gates, others try to duck between the security guards to get closer. A security guard knocks against you, nearly sending you tumbling, “what—“
And a wrist grabs you and pulls you hard, as the security guard tumbles to the ground, another arm around your waist. He steadies you, as you sigh, glancing to find Sukuna.
“Be careful,” you blink — wow was he actually a nice— and then he nearly shoved you away, “don’t need you getting injured and messing up my movie,” he strides off, and you watch dumbstruck, as you watch his back recede until bodyguards check on you and urge you along.
You can’t believe you thought even for a second that Ryomen Sukuna was nice.
And now you had to spend the entirety of tomorrow kissing up to him — literally.
Fucking ass.
“You can’t seduce me into letting you go,” Sukuna smiled, one hand on your hip and the other resting against the wall, pinning you against the headboard of the bed, “just because I let you win tonight—“
“Then I’ve won the battle,” you reply, fingers toying with a lock of his hair, twirling it around your finger, before dragging a finger down his cheek, “it’s only a matter of time until I win the war,”
He chuckles, hand cupping your chin, “such a brat, how did I ever fall for you?” And you only lean close, brushing your lips against his chin, delighting in the way his body shivered, “fuck—“
“You love it,” and he’s gotten you pinned to the bed in a moment with one hand, the other large palm sliding up your body, dragging your shirt along with it—
“CUT!”
You both sigh, glancing at the director as you both untangle yourselves — how many times did that make? Twelve? Fourteen?
“I think we’ll be dead before he gets it right,” Sukuna mutters under his breath, as a P.A. brings him a towel to dab at his skin.
“We’re calling it for the day,” the director announced, hair askew from the number of times he had pulled at it, “we’ll resume tomorrow, first thing,” there was almost an audible groan from the crew as everyone packed up for the day.
After all that, you’re making your way to your hotel room when someone stops you, you’re trying to brush past them absentmindedly, but his voice stops you dead in your tracks.
“Can’t run from us that easy, sweetheart,” and your head snaps up, finding Satoru in front of you, and you’re speechless, no words finding their way to your lips, before the hotel room next to yours opens up.
“Princess, in here, before anyone sees,” and Satoru’s hand tries to find yours, but you ignore it, walking into the room, not speaking until the door clicks behind Satoru.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” and you waver when you see Satoru’s sad gaze and Suguru’s tight frown, and you sigh, evening out your tone, “sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped — what are you guys doing here? I told you it’s risky—“
“We didn’t want to leave things the way they were, I couldn’t. Not like that,” Satoru shakes his head, “we needed to see you, baby, I couldn’t—“ he breaks off.
Suguru speaks in his stead, “We couldn’t fathom that was the last time we spoke,”
Your brows knit together, “Why would you think—“ and you’re sighing, scrubbing a hand down your face as your words ring in your own ears, and you know where their minds had went — fuck, “I would never ever break up with you two,” you’re stepping forward, “you’re idiots, but you’re mine,” and their arms are slipping around you in an instant, “I just got frustrated with everything, it wasn’t just you guys — the movie, Sukuna, long shoots, lack of sleep, and not seeing you two—“
“We should be the ones who’re sorry,” Satoru mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “we made it all about us and didn’t see that you needed us,”
“We’re never going to make that mistake again, Princess,” Suguru presses a soft kiss to your neck, and you sigh, stress melting under touch with the ease of a lit candle wick melts wax, “we’re sorry for being so selfish,”
“Yeah, Suguru’s sorry—“ and that earns Satoru a sharp elbow from said actor, “and I’m sorry too. We didn’t mean to add more stress. You’re already dealing with so much. We should have been there for you, sweetheart,” he finds your lips in a sweet kiss that has you sighing, “we trust you — it’s just—“
“Him, I know, but I hate him,” you say, and Suguru chuckles, fingers turning your head towards him, pressing his forehead agaisnt yours, “seriously, everything we’ve done is just for the movie or for publicity,” Suguru kisses you, teeth teasingly running along his bottom lip.
“You seemed pretty cozy with him in those pictures,” Satoru presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, and you blink.
“What pictures?” and then it occurs to you, “on the plane? They framed those—“ and Satoru’s cutting you off with another kiss, “Toru—“ and Suguru nuzzles the nape of your neck, “Sugu—“
“Just let us take care of you tonight,” Suguru murmurs, lazy fingers drawing circles on your hips, “been too long since we’ve seen you, Princess,”
In a moment they have you on your back on the bed, Satoru’s eyes gleaming with need, their hands slipping up your body, “I’m yours,” you murmur, “both of yours.”
And that’s all they needed to hear.
“Toru, I’m trying to make us breakfast,” you chuckle, half laughing, half exasperated, as he nearly engulfs you in a hug from behind, his face buried in the crook of your neck.
“So? I’m not in the way,” Satoru mumbles, sighing as he kisses the skin behind your ear, “right, Suguru?”
“You’re hindering the process, Toru,” you’re trying to flip pancakes for said boyfriend as he traces constellations of kisses against your shoulder and neck, “right Sugu?”
“Now, now, play nice you two,” Suguru replies drily, glancing at the two of you from the couch, “can’t blame us for missing you, sweetheart,”
“Y’know how many months I had to go without being able to cuddle you,” Satoru’s pouting against your skin now, “I have to make up for all that lost time,”
Shooting had finally ended three months ago — after a month and half spent in Canada, you flew back to Japan. Satoru and Suguru had taken up residence in a hotel room next door (under fake names of course) for about a week before flying back because of work. Satoru had tried to convince you to let him fly back and forth, but for the sake of the environment (and your sanity), you sent them both home.
And still, they both were acting as if you had been away for several years, not months.
“Does it have to be now?” And Satoru nods, grinning, and you relent, “well, this is much better than having dinner with Sukuna,”
“There’s a name we haven’t heard in a while,” Suguru raises an eyebrow, as he strolls into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.
“Thankfully,” Satoru adds, brow wrinkled, “what does he want?”
“Just a dinner to celebrate the end of production,” you sigh, as you step past Satoru to grab a plate for the pancakes, “the movie is going to have its premiere in a few months, so it’s also to plan ahead for that,”
“Did they announce a date yet?” Suguru asks, leaning against the counter on the other side of you, beginning to prepare coffee.
“Not yet, but it should be sometime this coming summer,” and you’re flipping pancake after pancake for the three of you, a stack forming, until you’re finally done. You catch the two of them shsring a look, until Satoru asks:
“Can you get us tickets to the premiere?”
“Of course I’m inviting the entire JJK cast,” you smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to Suguru’s cheek, “why would you two be any different?”
“And what about us two?” Satoru hums, as he shuts off the stove for you, daring less than an inch away from your lips, “Do we get the VIP treatment?”
“Uh-huh,” you bite back a laugh.
“Does the VIP package include you?” Suguru murmurs, a smirk against your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth,
“Of course,” you murmur, as Suguru’s arms wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your pulse, “once we’re away from cameras and phones and press,”
“All access?” Suguru murmurs, large palms slipping under your shirt, making you shiver from their cool touch, and you roll your eyes, as Satoru presses a kiss to your forehead.
“All access.”
“I don’t understand why we had to get ready together,” you grumble, assistants gather around you, one adjusting your gown, another fixing your makeup, and a third trying to tame your hair, “we could have just been picked up and taken to the venue together,”
The two of you had been ushered into these adjoining hotel rooms bright and early — much too early for you to even be awake, much less have to deal with Sukuna. The only consolation was while you were getting your makeup and clothes on, you didn’t have to see him.
“Someone might have seen us,” Sukuna replies, letting the assistant put his watch on, “or your throuple would undoubtedly get in the way,” you shoot a glare at him.
“Can you not call us that? They have names,” and Sukuna scoffs, fingers running over his charcoal suit coat to ensure there wasn’t even a single crease, the cut of his lapels sharp as knives.
“Like I care to remember them, brat,” and you raise an eyebrow.
“Do you even know my name?” he bears no reaction, but the corner of his lips twitch, “you don’t even fuc—“
“Are we all ready?” Your agent enters the hotel room with the director, “we should start heading to the venue,” and Sukuna brushed past you, and out the door, his entourage following behind him.
And you sighed, you were surely ready — ready to put this movie and Sukuna far behind you.
But of course he wasn’t behind you, so much so that he was beside you. Plastered to your side for the press to eat up, his arm slithered around your waist, as you both made your way down the carpeted premiere.
You had been to a premiere for both seasons of Jujutsu Kaisen — but never like this. The camera flashes were blinding, the sounds of the crowd deafening, and the walk down the carpet amongst all these others was disorienting. You were almost grateful for Sukuna’s gruff and short temper, he kept most interviews on the carpet from dragging too long,
You finally make your way inside and Sukuna parts from your side a moment without a word, beckoned off by someone or another. And it feels like too much. The day, the long hours, the carpet — all of it bears down on you at once, and you feel as if someone sucked the air from your lungs, using it to fill this hall with the smallest remnants of oxygen.
Fuck, you grasped tightly to your clutch, you were going to pass out if you didn’t go somewhere, somewhere else with less goddamn people, but where?
And you only take a stumbling step forward, before an arm is around your waist again, and a different voice murmurs in the opposite side, “Lost without us, sweetheart?” Suguru’s voice steadies you, keeps you from slipping deeper away from them, while Satoru’s touch grounds you.
“Let’s get her somewhere private, hm? Does that sound okay, Princess?” And you’re nodding; as the two of them discreetly usher you away, you barely can keep your eyes open, still feeling your breath lodged in your throat, choking on the very thing that was supposed to keep you alive. It doesn’t feel okay until you’re sitting on a bed, holding your head.
You feel the bed divut in as they both sit on either side of you, and their bodies brush against yours as if to ask for permission; and you’re leaning against their touch, until they engulf you in it.
And this was what you needed.
You don’t think about premieres, ruining your makeup, tripping, cameras, or anything else — just both of them and you.
“Are you okay, baby?” Suguru murmurs softly, and you’re nodding, “did you get overwhelmed?” And you nod again, and he sighs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I really wish you could have come with us,”
“I told ya we should have just taken her with us anyway,” you know Satoru’s face is scrunched up in worry, “the movie’s out anyway,”
“Not like I didn’t agree — I just told you she would never agree,” Suguru muttered, most assuredly rolling his eyes, “plus, we said we wouldn’t do that to her again,”
“Can you guys not talk like I’m not here?” and they instantly refocus on you, as you bury your head in the crook of Suguru’s neck, while Satoru does the same to you, pressing butterfly kisses to your skin, as Suguru carefully carded through your locks. And you just sat like that for a while, until you grew calmer by the second and finally lift your head, “sorry,”
“What do you have to be sorry for?” Satoru furrowed his brow, “you didn’t drool all over Suguru’s suit did you?” and you elbow him lightly in the ribs.
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind anyway, I’m used to you drooling on me one way or another,” and now you glare at Suguru, “you’re the one apologizing for no real reason,”
“There is a reason,” you sigh, shaking your head, “we should be out there enjoying the party, but instead, we’re—”
“All alone, with the two most important people to us?” Satoru tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “if anything, this was exactly the VIP treatment I was looking for, just us alone, in a room together?” Satoru’s tilting your head if only to press kisses up the side of your neck, nosing your pulse.
“He’s right, princess, we only came here for you — no one else, we’re so proud of you,” Suguru murmurs, his hand finding its way onto your thigh, “and all we want is to see you happy,”
Happy? When had been the last time you had been happy in the last few months? It had been far too long since it had been consistent — but the two people that ran consistently through every up, far too little downs? Satoru and Suguru. It had been so hard — and now it was almost over. Only a few more interviews and public appearances, and you would be done with Sukuna.
But you didn’t want to think about Sukuna now — you wanted them. More than ever.
Your lips find Suguru’s first, lips sliding against his — a hesitation for a millisecond, before he’s melting into it, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before you’re pulling away, soft pants filling the silence, until a warm hand is turning your head, and Satoru kisses you next, needy and persistent, as he always was, his fingers threaded in your hair, grazing against the nape of your neck. But Suguru doesn’t waste time, a hand sneaking up the silt of your dress, dragging against your pantyhose, snapping the skintight, translucent fabric against your skin.
You part from Satoru for a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his, and you see the lipstick smeared on both their lips — you can only imagine what little you have left is painting more than just your lips at this point.
“If we don’t stop right now, don’t know if I can, baby,” Satoru murmurs, guiding your palm to his already hard erection, “it’s risky,”
“It is, someone could catch us,” Suguru is still drawing tempting circles on your upper thigh, his nose brushes against yours as he presses his forehead against yours, “What do you want to do?”
And you knew the right thing to do would be to fix your faces and return to the party, act as if this hadn’t happened, as the three of you suffer through an evening without each other — until you get home far too late and far too tired to fall asleep beside them. That was the right thing, the sensible thing.
But your need for them both was hardly sensible. It wasn’t sensible when the three of you had gotten drunk multiple nights after shooting together — Satoru only drinking a shot each time at your and Suguru’s insistence to get far too plastered too quickly. It wasn’t sensible when the two asked you who the better kisser was — your character the envy of every fangirl as you got to kiss the two “strongest” sorcerers — and then when you cheekily replied you weren’t sure, they didn’t hesitate to kiss you then and there, one after another — and you realized you never wanted to stop (and the three you never did that night). It wasn’t sensible to hook up again a few nights later, heading back to Satoru’s place to hang out, only for the three of you end up in bed together yet again — a habit formed, but that you couldn’t quit. And it surely wasn’t sensible when the three of you had started to date — it was far from it, in a business like this. But you did it anyway — because it was them.
It was always them.
You rise to your feet, facing them a moment, before turning your back to them, looking over your shoulder at them, “Well? You’re going to have to help me get out of this dress because I’m not letting you two ruin it.”
And they share a look, before their lips curl into grins, as they reply.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Of course, baby.”
“Suguru no—“ and he snaps the fabric of your pantyhose against you making you whimper, “I told you not—“
“To ruin your dress, you said nothing about your pantyhose,” his nails digging crescents into your lovely thighs, “and you should worry more about Satoru,”
Satoru’s lips were nearly glued to your neck, tongue dragging up the side, until he pulled away to scowl at Suguru, “Eh? Why me?”
Suguru shrugs, “who left all those marks all over her neck last time?”
“You left marks over her thighs,”
“Jealous?”
“No, but I think you are that everyone saw mine, but no one saw yours,” and Suguru scoffs,
“My marks aren’t for anyone else but me,” and his fingers tear at the fabric of your pantyhose, as you whine, lips curling as your skin is freed, “and if anyone else was seeing them, well,” his thumb drags across the swell of your far too wet cunt, drawing a pretty gasp from your lips, “I’d have to punish her wouldn’t I?” He kisses the skin exposed between the patchwork tears, making you whimper, “make her cum over and over, until she begs me to stop, show everyone how I fuck her well,”
“Not as well as I do,” Satoru replies, “isn’t that right, Princess?”
“I’m not answering that,” you scoff — you knew nothing good came from getting between their fights, except maybe getting between their bodies.
“Then maybe we’ll have to remind you,” Suguru’s hands drag over your legs again, tugging off the shreds of your pantyhose off, “give you our dicks over and over until you tell us which one’s better,”
“Sounds good to me, yeah?” Satoru leans down to kiss the valley of your breasts, before his fingers follow, finding the front latch with a grin, “planned for this sweetheart? And I thought I was the one who wanted this the most,” and he undoes the clasp with practiced ease, your chest exposed to his touch, nipples pebbling under the cool air.
“You still are,” Suguru replies, as he nips at your thigh, eyes flicking down to Satoru’s obvious erection straining against the fabric of his slacks, “ready to burst just from looking at her chest, bet you wouldn’t last a minute getting her off,”
“Oh yeah? Then let’s see who lasts longer,” Satoru undoes and tosses his shirt with ease, his deep blue suit coat long discarded, before he pulls you up into a sitting position while he lies back, and then lifts you with ease onto the middle of his bare chest, “you in her mouth or me eating her out,”
“Toru—“ you squealed, as you squirmed, your already embarrassingly wet panties clinging to your dripping cunt, slick against his skin, but he holds your hips steady with large hands, “I can’t — I’ll crush you—“
“Ride my face, baby,” Satoru smiles up at you, that same smile you could never say no to — the one that made your stomach tie itself in knots, “wanna watch you cum all over my face, wanna walk around covered with your slick m—“
“Fuck—“ you cover your face, cheeks burning, “stop,”
“Already embarrassed? That’s not good, Princess,” Suguru clicks his tongue, as gentle but teasing fingers pry your hands off your face, “can’t have that, we barely started,”
“Please, baby?” Satoru pouts, and you can’t resist — a small nod, and his thousand watt smile almost makes it worth it, “take your seat on your throne, Princess,” you snort, almost.
You gingerly shift yourself over him, still hovering as you hesitate. You whimper as he inhaled, a shudder leaving his body, “how is it possible for you smell so fucking good?” And you hear the distinct sound of him unbuckling his belt and the zipper of his pants, and you knew he was already palming at his length.
Yet still, insecurity creeps up your body from his gaze, as he gazes up at your messy folds “Are you sure I won’t suffocate—” and he leans up to drag his tongue up your clothed cunt, nose bumping against your puffy clit, “ngh, Toru,” his name comes out far too needy for your taste, knees already beginning to buckle, quivering when he tugs at your drenched panties to snap them against your glistening folds, “fuck—” and he’s pulling the thin fabric aside, his warm breath sending ribbons of heat up your body, nearly shuddering from anticipation alone, and it’s nothing compared to when he pulls you down to seat you fully on his face.
“Fuck,” your body folds forward, and you barely catch yourself, as Satoru’s needy tongue drags over the length of your dripping cunt, “Toru, oh my god —- fuck,”
You barely register the creak of the bed, and the rustle of clothes or the click of the belt, “That’s the idea after all, princess,” Suguru knelt before you, his pretty cock aching for you and an inch in front of you — he was thicker than Satoru, lovely veins that you wanted nothing more than to trace, and pretty beads of pre-cum dripping from his slit, “are you going to be a good girl and—” he hisses when your lips part to suckle at his tip,tongue flicking over his slit, before you let his cock part your lips again.
But Satoru wasn’t one to be ignored — his tongue circling your clit faster, as his hands rest on your ass, squeezing, before slapping his hand down against the sensitive flesh, sending you forward onto Suguru’s cock.
Suguru grunts, fingers threading into your strands, nails digging into your scalp, “s’fucking good for me, princess. Such a good cockeater,” his fingers cup your chin, forcing your gaze higher, eyes blown out in pleasure, boobs bouncing with the way you rocked against Satoru’s face and Suguru’s shallow thrusts, the heavy weight of his dick on your tongue.
And Suguru can’t resist — palming at your breasts because you’re so pretty when you whine, as he pinches your erect nipples before rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. You moan around Suguru’s length, your hands grasping at his hips, sloppily sucking him off, as Satoru grinds his face against your cunt.
The wet squelch of your pussy rings in your ears, greedily lapping at your juices like a man wanting to drown, diving deeper and deeper to depths unknown. And when his thumbs reach up to part your hole further apart, you’re nearly choking on Suguru’s dick, as Satoru’s tongue slips into your entrance.
You whine when he teasingly pulls away, pressing sweet kisses to your clit, “Gonna fuck you right, sweetheart — make sure you can’t remember anything tonight except the feel of my tongue inside you, that is, until I fuck you open,” and he’s burying you back, moaning at the feeling of your juices slipping off the side of his face, “gotta open wide for you baby — gotta swallow this whole cunt, yeah?”
And you would have moaned if you hadn’t had your mouth full of Suguru’s dick, nearly beginning to choke on it when he began to lazily thrust into your mouth, a shiver down his spine as he looks at you drooling around his length, sloppily tracing his veins, a graze of his teeth against the sensitive skin, and a hiss parts his lips, “careful there,” and he gives a particularly hard thrust, “don’t want me to fuck this throat do you?” and your moan makes a mean smirk curl his lips, “or maybe you do,”
Fuck, you were getting close — and so was Suguru by the way his hips began to buck into your mouth, and Satoru for that matter — the wet sounds of his fisting his cock along with the messy moans against your cunt sending more pleasure up and down your spine. And fuck, his bucking against his hand was making the bed shake — and god, you’d reach behind you and jack him off if you weren’t holding onto Suguru for dear life.
“That’s it, sweetheart, swallow my cock, fuck, g’nna cum soon,” Suguru’s balls slap against your face as he begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, “Toru looks he’s about ready to burst too, gonna clean up our cocks before we fuck you, pretty?”
“Fuck, she nearly clamped down on my mouth from that,” Satoru says, thoroughly muffled from your heat pressed tight to his mouth, his tongue then returning to fuck you, as you ride his face to find your release, unable to think about anything else but cumming, “cum on my face, baby,” and when Satoru sucks around your clit, a sharp palm bearing down on your ass again, you’re cumming, grinding and riding out your high on his face, as he welcomes your release with an open mouth. The wet sounds of his slurping and sucking, as your juices roll off both sides of his face and stain the mattress underneath him.
And then you’re eagerly sucking at Suguru’s cock, swallowing around him as he fucks your face, “g’nna cum, are you gonna let me cum alone — are you going to help Satoru cum too?” and he’s helping you reach back, leaning back with you so his cock never parts your pretty lips, and right as your fingers brush against Satoru’s cock, squeezing around the base, you hollow out your cheeks, letting Suguru’s tip brush your throat.
They both groan your name as they cum, thick spurts of Suguru’s release down your throat, while Satoru cums all over his stomach and your hand. They slowly still their movements, Suguru slowly pulling his cock from your mouth, strings like a spiderweb of cum and your spit connecting your lips to his dick, and Satoru helps you off his face, eyes shut as your legs are still shaking from the way he ate you out still, as they lay you down on the bed.
Your eyes flutter open to find Satoru licking his face clean, still glossy with your release and his spit, “Fuck, sweetheart, how do you taste so good?” he murmurs almost reverently, a grin on his lips, “I’ll have to sit on my face more often,” and you’re rolling your eyes.
“I don’t know if I’ll be sitting on my throne very often, you weirdo,” you chuckle softly, far too breathlessly, and you turn to Suguru to find him leaning on his elbow, gaze still dark.
“Well, you do have two thrones after all,” Suguru leans down to find your lips in a kiss, tasting himself on your lips, a soft moan pulled from your lips, “you’ll have to use the other at one point or another,”
“Jealous?” you echo Satoru, and Suguru has you pulled into his lap in a moment, your back pressed flush to his chest, his cock already far too hard, far too quickly, and your head falls back as he drags the tip over your still sensitive folds, “a-ah, Sugu, I—”
“The only thing I’m jealous about is that the only thing that’s been in this pretty pussy tonight has been Satoru’s tongue,” and he’s tilting your head down, to watch your cunt rub against his length, a whine leaving your throat that you barely recognize as your own, “think we should fix that, shouldn’t we?”
“Room for another over there?” Satoru adds, drawing closer, his length in hand, as he lazily pumps it to full mast, and you whimper at the sight of him, “our princess is so needy, she needs two of us to fill her, yeah?”
And Suguru takes the opportunity to spread your folds with his hand, and sink his length into you, your head falling back into his shoulder, as a pornographic moans parts your lips, and Suguru is shushing you all the same, as he works himself into you inch by inch, “Don’t want anything to think we’re filming a different kind of movie in here, hm?”
“Imagine the headlines then,” Satoru hums, as he teases your clit with his cock, “movie star found cheating on her co star — one dick just wasn’t enough — she needs two,”
“Can they blame her?” Suguru’s finally inside you fully, his stretch far too delicious, shorting out your nerves with the pleasure — and you swear your cunt was making a mold of his cock, complete with every lovely vein, pretty curve, and each inch, “this pussy deserves the best after all,”
“S’full,” you’re a mess, walls already fluttering around Suguru, practically begging him to begin moving, while welcoming Satoru in with folds that only craved his cock, “so big,” you whine.
“Mmhmm, I know, baby,” Satoru’s tilting up your chin, lips curled in a grin, “Suguru’s almost too much for me — how are you going to fit me too?” and you whimper, shaking your head, “you still want me?” and you nod far too eagerly, and he chuckles, “well, you heard our princess, Suguru, mind giving me a hand?”
And you furrow your brow, unsure, until you feel Suguru’s hands reach around to your front and spreads your pussy lips wider for Satoru, making your cunt clamp down on him, “fuck, she just got tighter,” but Satoru takes it in stride, gathering some of your juices on his fingers to further lube himself up.
“No matter how much we fuck her like this, she’s always so tight for us,” Satoru’s pressing his tip to your spread entrance, and you whimper, “maybe tonight,” his fingers tilt your chin upwards, “we’ll finally fuck her to remember our shapes,”
And he guides his cock into you, and Suguru braces your body against his as your back arches, as both of their lengths stretch you open — like they said, no matter how many times they did this, you never quite got used to it.
But this pleasure? You were far too used to — they had ruined you for anyone else, because no matter what, no man could please you like either of them, much less both of them.
“S’full, fuck, I-I can’t—” your walls are squeezing them hard, dicks rubbing together, drawing deep groans from both of them.
“Don’t have to break our dicks off to get us to fuck you all the time, baby,” Satoru mutters, panting, as he lifts your leg, hooking one around his hip, “already gonna fuck you stupid anytime you want,”
“Shit, I’m not gonna last that long, Satoru,” Suguru says through gritted teeth, pressing heated kisses to your neck, “gonna start moving, sweetheart,” and you’re nodding, as they both begin to fuck you in tandem. Suguru thrusted upwards steadily, forcing you to ride him, allowing his dick to sink into sweeter depths, pleasure ripping up your spine, while Satoru fucked into you at a rough pace, hands gripping your thighs as he did. Both of their movements drove the other deeper into you, reaching depths you didn’t think were possible.
“F-fuck, Sugu, Toru,” you’re babbling, lost in the thick haze of pleasure, dripping over your skin like hot molasses, slow but burning all the same, as your walls fluttered around both of them, “s’good, I can’t—” tears burning at your eyes, as your hands brace themselves on Satoru’s shoulders.
“That’s it, such a good girl, been thinking about you spread out on me like this since the moment I saw you,” Suguru grunts, rutting into you faster, “couldn’t wait to rip off this dress to fuck you right — didn’t think you’d let us so soon,” and you swear their cocks were kissing your cervix at this point, and surely you’d look down and see a bulge in your stomach from how deep they were.
“Pretty girl takes us so well, no one compares to you, sweetheart,” Satoru sighs, watching the way his cock sunk into you again and again, “you’re ours, just ours,”
“I’m close, s’close, g’nna—” pleasure built like a coil in your stomach, ready to snap, and they were only more than happy to pull you apart, as long as they were the only one to put you back together.
And Satoru rubs at your clit, a moan on his lips, “Cum for us princess,” and you do, toes curling as you cum hard with their names on your lips, clamping down around both of their cocks. Low moans of your name leave their lips as they fuck you through your orgasm, hips stuttering when they slowed, “g’nna cum,”
“Where—” Suguru chokes out, and you’re leaning into Suguru, while your arms wrap around Satoru’s neck, pulling him close.
“Inside, please, give me your cum,” And they both moan, slowing until they notch themselves deep as they both cum, thick releases painting your walls, continuing to fuck their cum deeper inside, “ngh, fuck,” And Suguru finds your lips in a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, as Satoru digs his teeth into your neck, no protest coming to your mind, only just a want for more, more, more.
And they slow, creak of the mattress and the pants stilling into silence, as you lean back against Suguru, Satoru’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder as the three of you bask in the afterglow.
And finally, Satoru slowly pulls himself from you, groaning as he watches the evidence of the double creampie they gave you drips from inside you, “Fuck, sweetheart, we filled you up,”
“A shame to waste it,” Suguru murmurs, as he pulls his softening erection from inside you, “should we plug her up, make her keep our cum inside her for the rest of the night?” and you’re biting back a moan, but Satoru doesn’t miss the way your lower lips twitch.
“Oh, she likes that,” Satoru grins, cupping your face to find your lips in a languid kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue that teases teasingly over the seam of your lips, “or maybe we should fuck her again and give her more until it drips down her thighs all night, hm?”
And the moment is fraught with tension, as the two of them lean in again to kiss you, before the door bursts open, making all three of you freeze.
Fuck (and not in the good way).
“Oi, what the fuck,” the three of you glance over, as Satoru and Suguru hurriedly covered you up with Suguru’s nearby discarded jacket, “you fucking idiots—”
“Look who’s talking,” Satoru scoffs, “fuck off,”
“I would say the same to you, but you already did,” Sukuna shakes his head, “all night you’ve been gone, and you can’t be bothered to keep track of the time?” and your brow knits together, “it’s nearly time for the fucking—”
“Question and answer, with the press,” the warmth of their embraces erased in a moment by the news, a bucket of ice water spilled over your head, “fuck,” you’re trying to scramble to get up, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t out there like this—”
“No fuck you can’t,” Sukuna scoffs, and Suguru glares at him, as he helps you into your dress, while Satoru stands with his jacket as a partition.
“Stop talking if you’re not going to help,” and you’re lucky the dress doesn’t require six people to get into, and you had chosen something relatively simple, with a fucking string corset you were beginning to regret as Suguru tried to retie it as best he could, “fuck, why was this dress so easy to take off?” But he finally gets it, as you open the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror.
“My makeup, my hair — I can fix it, but not the way it was before,” you’re covering your face, how was your career over before you barely started? “Fuck, what do I do—”
“It’s simple,” Satoru sighs, “as much as I hate to suggest this, and I probably will go gouge my eyes out—”
You sigh, “Toru—”
“I have an idea,” Satoru’s eyes slide to Sukuna, disgust evident in his face, until he glances back at you, “but we’ll need his help,”
“Don’t worry, I don’t know your name either,” Satoru’s head snaps back to Sukuna.
“You don’t know—”
Sukuna smirks, “What’s the plan?”
Satoru’s expression sours, as he scratches the back of his head, “Well…”
“You surprised me, brat,” Sukuna says, as he holds your arm, as the two of you make your way back into the ballroom, and you’re adjusting your dress, still far too self conscious — as if everyone could see what you did — even though that was the plan.
“That I agreed to this?” you murmur.
“No, that you bit me that hard,” he rubbed the mark you left on his neck, as your cheeks burn, “didn’t expect a tiny thing like you to be able to bite that well,”
“Well, I had to make it look real,” you look away, but look back when you’re about to reach the doors of the ballroom, “fuck, everyone is going to look at us, aren’t they?”
“Let them enjoy the show,” an arm slides around your waist, “you know they will.”
~~~
It’s only been a few weeks since the film premiered, and it’s already far surpassed some of the top grossing films this year. A lot of the buzz generated from the film has been around rumors surrounding the relationship between the two lead co-stars—their tumultuous relationship seems to have come to an end—
And you tune out the video for a moment, scrolling into the comments to see what people are saying:
sukunasthirdleg69: damn can i get on him next? 👅
gegesnumber1hater: wonder if she got back with gojo or geto again? 🤭 I’d like to see that groupchat pop off.
gogecutestprincess replied to gegesnumber1hater: no way she lost her chance with gojo and geto 😤 they deserve better…like each other
You chuckled, at least the news of you and Sukuna had spread as planned. You had enough of the coverage of the premiere with the zoomed in images of your clothes and the marks on both of your bodies. But finally it was done — but how long would it be until you slipped up with Satoru or Suguru and the rumors would begin again?
“What are you thinking about so much? Aside from me,” Satoru collapses on the couch beside you, hair still damp from the shower, arm slipping around your waist, as he leans over your shoulder, “what are they saying now?”
“Just more rumors — some are wondering if we got back together,”
“How could they ever think we let you go?” Suguru presses a kiss to the top of your head, before sitting beside you.
“I still hate that they think the marks I left are from Sukuna,” Satoru mumbles, as you flip through the comments, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, “how could they not realize it was my hard work that put those marks there?”
“Because it’s so distinct,” you snort, and he’s pouting as you press a kiss to his cheek, “not everyone has your sharp eyes, Toru,”
“And yet you saved every picture they got of her,” Suguru smirks, and Satoru glares at him, “but I did too,”
“What are we going to do when they start talking about us again?” Satoru tilts his head at your question.
“Let them,” Satoru leans back on the couch, fingers toying with a strand of your hair, “and if you really don’t like it, we can pay them off,”
“And if I don’t want to pay them off?” Both of them furrow their brows, “what if I want them to know?” You add, chewing on your lip, “about us?”
“You want to?” Suguru’s gaze softens, “but more than us, it could impact your career,”
“It already had,” you scoff, when had it not recently? If it was going to be like this, you would at least like to be in control of the narrative, “everyone is always talking about us, well,” your lips curl into a grin, why don’t we give them something to talk about?”
“And what would that be?” Satoru hums.
You lock your phone screen, “When does shooting and press start for season three of jjk?”
~~~~
A few months later….
“A successful film, several offers to be in other blockbusters, and now you’re back shooting season three of Jujutsu Kaisen,” the interviewer leans back, shaking her head, as she fans herself with her interview cards, “I think we were lucky to get an interview with you now! Although it isn’t in person this time,”
“Well, you can’t forget your roots,” and you couldn’t — this was the first show that had requested you for an interview all those years ago when season one of Jujutsu Kaisen was airing, even if you had relegate them to a video interview, “it feels like this year has been that in many ways,”
“Oh? How is that?” and your lips curl.
“Last year with my first feature film and everything else, it felt like starting over — starting from scratch with something so new that I barely recognized myself at some point,” your hands clasped in your lap, “this year, after the film gained so much traction, and going back to film the show that made my career, it just feels like coming home — especially to the cast,”
“Speaking of the cast, are you going to see more behind the scenes with Gojo and Geto?” she grins, “so many of your videos with those two went viral — are we going to see more of the three of you messing around?”
And you can’t help the smile on your lips, “Oh definitely you will be seeing more of that,” you’re tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and the lights glint off a set of two rings on your finger, diamonds glinting as if begging for notice, and you hear a small gasp.
“Is that—” and you freeze a moment, before your smile grows wider, and the interviewer squeals, “Are you married?”
“Guilty,”
The interviewer grins harder than you are — and you’re not quite sure if she’s more thrilled at the news or of getting this exclusive, “Who’s the lucky man?”
And you open your mouth, when the camera goes out of focus for a moment, only for it to come back into focus with Satoru and Suguru leaning into the frame of the camera, their arms around your sides. And Satoru lowers his sunglasses with a smirk.
“Who said it’s just one?”
✧ a/n: ahh this was super fun to write just because of how much crack it was hahah, i hope you guys enjoyed <3
✧ taglist: @forest-hashira , @supilyu , @yamaguccitadashi, @kentocalls, @magicalgirlb, @ssetsuka , @isabeauwolf , @lemonintrovert01 , @astraecea-silversin , @cerene-dipity , @whorefornoodles , @hobimysolecito , @risuola , @ja-zz , @spider-fan72 , @jayathelostdragon , @therealestpussyeater , @too-much-snow , @umarureid , @rosso-seta , @maddie-jayne , @at-the-chateau , @cherrypieyourface, @sleepysaurusworld , @lucilferz , @spltbtch , @bobfloydluvsblackwomen , @johannakhalafalla , @augustwinesworld , @catsgomurp , @psychxbby, @hellkaiserinphoenix , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @cstandsforchaos , @sunamatic , @lycoris-01 , @mua-for-now , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @voids-universe , @caelestine-the-caelicatto , @gorouenjoyer
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#geto suguru smut#gojo satoru smut#stsg x reader#satosugu x reader#satoru gojo x you#suguru geto x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto fanfiction#gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo fluff#suguru geto fluff
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Just talking with an old friend.
#i love this quote so much i needed to draw this out but my mind said i should also animate it#it took two days#osomatsu san#osomatsu-san#mr. osomatsu#karamatsu#karamatsu matsuno#18!Karamatsu#animation#animatic#anime#the boy the mole the fox and the horse#reference#i wonder if people will be sad over this#i picture it like this is a conversation after the events of the movie#where its after they get their photo with Takahashi and Karamatsu gets to really sit with his younger self and reflect#fanart#my art
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘cause i’m that bitch.
pairing: charles leclerc x fashionista!reader.
warnings: nothing! just reader being a bad bitch.
faceclaim: rihanna.
summary: charles keeps trying to tell everyone he’s in a relationship with you, the it girl of the fashion world. yet, no one believes him. he’s very keen on changing that.
— part two of my 500 followers celebration ♡ —
liked by vogue, zendaya and 3,822,728 others.
yourcompanyname: our boss y/n l/n at the cfda gala last night where she was awarded the fashion icon award. pictures of her arriving to, during and after the event.
ynswife: ‘do my tits bother you? they're COVERED… in swarovski crystals girl!’
-> user1: oh she ate this look up so bad.
user7: i remember when she was still interning for vogue and now she’s one of the biggest makeup and clothing moguls in the world 🥺
-> yourcompanyname: thanks for being with us since the beginning!! check your dms for a surprise! 🙈
user5: that’s my favourite fashion designer!
user6: did y’all see the post-award interview? she was giggling saying she was going to celebrate with someone after getting the award…. i wonder who it was.
-> user9: probably just her best friend. they’re really close and she helps her get ready for events like this.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT.
— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.
CHARLES LECLERC: they don’t believe it! they don’t believe i’m dating you!
Y/N L/N: they’re probably joking babe-
LECLERC: they called me a french twink! i’m not even french!
L/N: i know babe.
LECLERC: we need to ramp it up. can i wear one of your designs? maybe they’ll understand when i’m dressed in your fashion.
L/N: i have the perfect outfits for you. i’ll send them tomorrow!
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,383,937 others.
gqmens: charles leclerc is our new cover boy, dressed in yourcompanyname’s menswear from head to toe.
landonorris: can you get me some clothes 😩
-> user6: BUY EM 🤨
user2: idc if he’s a stalker, he’s sooooo fine i’m sorry.
-> dumbass1: he can stalk me deadass. go all joe goldberg on me 😍😩
user89: he’s really trying to make us believe that he’s dating her…. we’re not that gullible dumbass!
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by yourcompanyname, vogue and 1,728,727 others.
y/nsfanpage: last night y/n was seen at the movie premiere of ‘material girl’, the second film that she’s produced under her production company!
user3: queen!! don’t know what looks better, her or the movie!
user8: some vroom vroom guy is saying he’s dating her….
-> user9: imagine 😭
user7: he’s even buying clothes to pretend he’s sponsored by her that’s crazy 😭😭😭😭
-> user5: she needs a restraining order i’m so serious.
user6: she looks so good!! 😍
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
PARTIAL TRANSCRIPT
— phone conversation between CHARLES LECLERC and Y/N L/N.
LECLERC: we need to pull out the big guns.
L/N: if you’re sure…
LECLERC: i just want people to understand and believe i’m dating you. i don’t want people to believe i’m a weird stalker.
L/N: oh babe, i’m so sorry. you know what? i’ll take the day off tomorrow, we can go out and spend all day doing what you’d like to do.
LECLERC: all i want to do is be with you.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
liked by ynswifey, charlieeupdates and 2,628,982 others.
ham1ltonshaderoom: after initial disbelief from the internet, business mogul and it girl y/n l/n has been spotted cosying up with formula one driver charles leclerc in an art gallery in paris. how are we feeling about this new couple ham1ltons?
user7: HE STOLE MY WIFE!!!!!! BOOOO
user6: i apologise mr leclerc i was unfamiliar with your game.
-> user7: don’t ever doubt the game of a peculiar white dude.
user78: she looks so good even blurry.
user67: that outfit is crazy he looks like a mime.
-> user23: he’s never beating the french allegations.
user12: first pic is actually so cute!!
user34: i still think it’s photoshopped.
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃
taglist: @lemon-lav @firelily-mimi @formulaal @sya-skies @namgification @raevyng @ajvaix @demvnsriot @blupblupfish @ravisinghs-wife @f1kenzzz @d3kstar @wildflowermarns @ironmaiden1313 @evie-119 @decafmickey @nichmeddar @casperlikej @cuteskz @charlesleclercsonlywife @booksandflowrs @mxdi0 @alexmarie29 @iloveyou3000morgan @fate-posts @luckyladycreator2 @23victoria (don’t see yourself or wanna be removed? send an ask!)
— don’t wanna miss an update? join my taglist!
#jayde’s works ☆#ham1lton 500 ☾#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 texts#f1 fanfic#formula one imagine#formula one x black reader#charles leclerc texts#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x black!reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x black reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
fan girl // Alexia Putellas
a/n: based off this request!
It was movie night at Alexia‘s, the girls seated around her living room as snacks and soft drinks were on the coffee table for everyone.
The girls had to decided to watch your new movie, all of them a big fan of your acting. Alongside you, big names like Margot Robbie and Ryan Reynolds - the movie was made to be a hit.
And Alexia had to admit that she watched every single one of your movies, most of the time more enjoying the view rather than the plot. It didn’t matter if she was the queen of football, she was madly crushing on you.
For once, Alexia wasn‘t getting Fan-girled but was Fan-girling herself. Something about you made her heart flutter, cheeks blushy and starstruck.
So, every time you appeared on screen, Alexia zoned out, comments from her friends falling to deaf ears, snacks long forgotten. She was completely in awe.
"That movie was mind blowing!" Claudia stated shocked after the movie had finished.
"That ending was very unexpected" Patri joined before the whole group talked about the movie. They discussed the ending, the plot, what they liked and didn‘t like, and the acting skills of each individual - simply everything.
-
A few weeks later, the call came that Alexia had to attend to an event, nothing knew for the Ballon D‘or winner you might think, but this event was different. Not necessarily from what would happen there but from the guests. Normally, some important people from the sports industry would be there, many media people or other important people in general - people Alexia knew or (dis)liked.
This time though, you would be there too. Alexia only knew this because she saw your instagram story - a window picture out of a plane, Barcelona marked as the destination - big headlines in the news.
In the following days, Alexia acted nervous and excited, sights you didn‘t see often. Mapi made fun of her because of that, even though she could understand Ale‘s excitement - who wouldn’t be excited to meet you?
-
"How do I look?" Alexia asked Mapi and Ingrid.
Both of them had agreed to help the Barcelona captain get ready as everything had to be perfect - perfect to meet you. She wanted to talk to you - that might be her only chance to ever talk to you, she didn‘t want to ruin that. She had to be subtle about approaching you yet attentive, respectful and kind. She couldn’t be some weird obsessed fan, she had to be herself - Alexia.
"Just be yourself" Mapi stated when Ale couldn’t stop rambling about you. What would you be wearing? How should she start a conversation? Would there even be an opportunity to talk to you? Are you nice? You probably are, no bad words about you in the world - everybody always talking highly of you.
"How am I supposed to be myself?! She‘s literally a Hollywood star!" Alexia defended herself. As if it was so easy to be herself.
"María is right, though" Ingrid added, "Ale, you‘re not just anyone, who knows maybe she‘s a football fan herself. Just start the conversation casually, be nice, ask her about her interests and everything should be fine" the Norse explained, trying to ease the Catalonians mind.
Alexia wasn‘t just anyone, she was a Barcelona player, World Cup winner, 2x Ballon D‘or winner and many other trophies winner, but most importantly, she was human. Her trophies didn‘t defy her as a person - she wasn’t arrogant or bragging about her achievements, instead she was a friendly, caring and supportive friend.
"Thank you"
-
Alexia attended the event, more nervous than usually.
She talked to the people she had to, conversations about football or other business stuff or talked to some people who she actually enjoyed talking to.
Yet all evening, she kept looking for you, not seeing you anywhere which disappointed her. She was looking forward to see you, for once not on tv.
When she went to the bar, ordering a drink, she had already lost hope, until she tensed up.
"Hola la reina" a voice beside her greeted, accent thick.
Tilting her head, she saw the gorgeous smile of you, "hi" she greeted, smiling shyly.
You had referred to her as la Reina.
"I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed that I was only able to talk to you now" you said, taking a sip of your drink. Everything seemed so effortless when you did it.
"I‘m Y/N Y/L/N, big fan"
Shaking your hand, she replied "Alexia Putellas"
After that the conversation came floating by with an ease, all nervousness from the both of you washed away.
Alexia wasn‘t the only fan girl here, you fan-girled about her just as much, raised as an Barcelona fan since you were a little girl.
All night, you continued flirting with each other, discovering same interests and discussing topics from a-z, also not talking to anyone else but each other. It felt easy to talk to Alexia, no judgement at all as she listened to everything you had to say. She couldn’t care less if it was a random fact, even though you had seemingly very much of them (which she secretly absolutely adored) or if it was your opinion on whatever. She enjoyed hearing you talk, your opinions and points of view well explained.
At some point during the night, she asked "So, you‘re an football fan?"
"Oh yes, absolutely"
"Favorite club?"
"Real Madrid, obviously" you joked, her reaction hilarious - wide eyes, open mouth, look of disgust on her features.
"I‘m joking!" you laughed, "I’m a culer through and through"
"You almost gave me an heart attack!" she hit your arm playfully, continuing to talk about football. This time is was you who listened. The sound of Alexias voice angelic.
You loved how passionate she talked about her profession and how serious she got when she analyzed something, she was the perfect mixture of professionalism and passion - something you admired.
When the night came to an end, you walked her outside, waiting for her taxi to arrive.
"It was nice meeting you, la reina" you beamed, squeezing her hand as you had held it on the way out, so she wouldn’t get lost.
Girls thing.
"Likewise"
Looking at one another with googly eyes, no one realized that the taxi had arrived until the driver honked, bringing you back to earth.
"I would like to see you again, sometime?" you shifted nervously on your feet, eyes darting across her features. She was breathtaking.
"Maybe at the match next weekend?" Alexia didn’t expect you to say yes with your busy schedule and new upcoming projects but she tried it anyways. She really wanted to see you again.
"I will be there"
The midfielder‘s face lit up, the widest smile on her face, eyes sparkling as her heart jumped around happily.
"Good night, la reina and stay safe" you pressed your lips on the barcelona players cheek before you walked back inside with shaking hands. You had just kissed the famous Alexia Putellas’ cheek and it felt good!
Alexia on the other hand had crimson red cheeks, was breathing heavily as she touched completely dazed the spot were your lips had been seconds ago.
It seemed like you would stay for another few days in Barcelona. This wasn‘t the end. Maybe, for once, you wouldn't be playing a role in a romance film, but would be living your very own romance.
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso#woso imagine#woso image x reader#barca femeni#fc barcelona femeni#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni#fc barcelona women#barcelona women#maria leon#ingrid engen
682 notes
·
View notes
Text
And I Wouldn’t Marry Me Either
Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader
Synopsis: you release some songs about Tom after a disagreement ends in a breakup
Masterlist
“Marry me.”
“Right now? But I just got comfortable.” Tom mumbled into his pillow with a sleepy smile.
“I’m serious.” You whispered through a laugh and shook his shoulder. Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he could see the blurry outline of you lying next to him in your bed.
“What?”
“I’m just thinking.” You began. “We’ve been together five years.”
“I’m aware.” Tom laughed and snuggled back into his pillow.
“So we should do it. We should get married.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him.
“We are married. Everyone knows you’re my girl.” Tom said without opening his eyes and pulled you into his arms. He tried to go back to sleep but you still wanted to talk.
“I know.” You laughed. “But I want to make it official.”
“What, in Gods eyes and all that? I didn’t think you cared about that.” He laughed dismissively and rolled over. You sat up fully in the bed and looked down at him.
“It’s not about that. I want the flowers and the dress and the rings. Don’t you want that?” You asked and shook him a little to clue him in that you were trying to have a serious conversation. You watched Tom shrug and roll onto his back to look up at you.
“I don’t know. I always found weddings kinda dumb.”
“What? What do you mean dumb?” You forced a laugh and tried to hide the disappointment in your tone.
“I mean, like, they’re not even legally binding. It’s this whole big celebration that people spend their life savings on just to get drunk and slid rings on each other fingers. You still have to go to the courthouse to get married and even that’s just a piece of paper.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you felt that way.” You laughed shortly and picked at your nail polish to look busy.
“I didn’t realize you felt a different way.” He said and rolled back onto his stomach. Tom closed his eyes to go back to sleep and you felt your heart sink in your chest. You got out of the bed and opened the curtains a little to distract yourself with the view. You touched the silky white curtains and smiled to yourself as you thought of all the pictures of white dresses you had saved on your Pinterest throughout the years.
“I’ve always dreamed of my wedding.” You said over your shoulder. “I think every little girl does at some point. Every rom com I grew up on ends with the perfect fairy tale wedding. I always wanted that. I wanted my happy ending.”
“But those are just movies. I bet half those couples wouldn’t last in real life.”
“But it’s sweet that they plan that special day together and then get to celebrate their love in front of all their family and friends.”
“Yeah, all that planning just so they can get divorced before the first year is up.” Tom snorted. “I think the whole idea of weddings are stupid. I mean, you spend all that time and money planning for a one day event that people will just attend for the free booze. Plus, women starve themselves for months and spend thousands of dollars on a dress they’ll wear once? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Tom.” You laughed shortly and folded your arms to glare at him. Tom sensed your tone and sat up in bed to pay better attention.
“I just think it’s all so ancient.” He shrugged. “I’m surprised you don’t agree. Weddings cannot exist without all the bullshit sexist traditions. I mean, the white dress to symbolize the brides supposed purity, the father of the bride literally “giving her away” to another man after being asked permission to get engaged in the first place, and then to top it off with her taking his last name because she’s now his property or something. It’s all so trivial and perverse.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that. Those traditions may be rooted in old fashioned thinking but I think it’s sweet to ask for my fathers permission. And yeah, I do want my dad holding my hand and walking me down the aisle. He’s not giving me away to be another man’s property, he’s standing by my side as I enter a new chapter of my life. Which is why I want my mama right there on my other side. Plus, lots of people hyphenate their last names nowadays. It doesn’t have to be this monstrous sexism fest you’re making it out to be.” You rolled your eyes and walked into the bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Tom frowned when you shut the door. You usually left it open a crack when you did your morning skincare routine, but today, you were shutting him out. Tom got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to see you. You didn’t look up at him as you washed your face.
“Come on. Are you seriously mad because I dissed your rom coms?” Tom said as he put his hands on your hips and kissed your shoulder.
“I’m not mad about that.” You mumbled and brushed him off.
“Then what are you mad about, sour patch?” He teased and kissed your shoulder again.
“I’m mad because I’ve been getting my nails done weekly leading up to our five year anniversary just in case you proposed and you just told me that’s never even crossed your mind!” You exclaimed as hot tears of embarrassment brimmed your eyes. You stormed out of the bathroom and when Tom processed what you had said, he followed after you.
“I don’t believe in marriage, okay? I think it’s unnecessary. Why can’t we just live like this forever? What’s the difference?”
“The difference is pretty big. But I guess you don’t see it like that.” You shrugged and kept walking away from him.
“Can you honestly tell me what would be different between us if we signed a stupid piece of paper at the courthouse or didn’t?” Tom said as he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place for a second.
“The difference is I’d be your wife and not just the pathetic girlfriend who stayed even though you didn’t lock it down.” You raised your voice at him and pushed his hands off of you.
“So you only want to get married because you care what people think? How romantic.” Tom rolled his eyes at you.
“That’s not the only reason. I want to get married because it’s important to me. It’s a public commitment where we promise to love and protect each other forever. I want that.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I don’t need a ceremony to do that. I can promise you that right here.” Tom calmed down and took your hands.
“But that’s not special.” You sighed and withdrew your hands.
“If you don’t find that special then maybe you don’t love me as much as you think you do.” Tom said, immediately regretting it.
“What?” You whispered and looked into his eyes to see if he was serious.
“Look, darling, I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I just don’t see the point in marriage. I don’t need to prove I love you with a ring and wedding. I chose to love you every day. That’s enough for me.”
“What if it’s not enough for me?” You genuinely asked him as you wondered it for yourself.
“Then maybe you need to stop being so shallow and materialistic and ask yourself if you’re with me because you love me or because you want to play out some childhood fantasy that you saw in a stupid movie.” He shouted.
You both instantly got quiet. You were quiet for a very long time.
“I didn’t even mean that.”
“I don’t even care.” Your voice cracked as you grabbed your purse and slammed the front door behind you when you left.
“Is this one okay?” Harrison asked, pulling Tom out of his daydream. He replayed that fight over in his head about a dozen times a day. If his mind wasn’t occupied by something at all times, he’d perform an autopsy on that last conversation with you to try and understand what he should’ve done differently.
“What?” Tom asked without looking at his friend. He was too busy staring at the seat you always used to sit in at the kitchen counter.
“Can I use this one?” Harrison repeated and held up a muted purple mug as the tea kettle went off in the background. Tom tore his eyes away from your chair and when he saw the mug, all he could picture was your lipstick stain that used to stain it.
“That’s Y/n’s mug.” Tom said, descending a chill over the room. Harry and Sam’s attention was caught and they looked at Tom to see where this conversation was going.
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll put it back.” Harry said and quickly went to put it back in the cabinet.
“It’s fine. She’s not using it.” Tom shrugged. Everyone looked at each other as the awkwardness became palpable.
“How’s she’s doing?” Sam asked and sipped his tea to seem less interested than he really was.
“She’s good. Shes been recording some stuff at her New York studio. New music and whatnot.” Tom replied. He didn’t know this because you told him. He knew this because he’d been stalking your fanpages for every possible sighting of you.
“Have you guys talked lately?” Harry asked.
“Not really. Not since she left.” Tom admitted without looking up at his friends.
“You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Harrison asked, worsening the icy tension. Tom froze at the question for a minute and then shrugged. He didn’t really know what the answer was. In the weeks you’d been gone, you’d make small talk sometimes about work and the weather, but it never went beyond that. It was more to be polite. You kept in touch enough to know what the other was up to on a weekly basis, but you both knew you were dragging out something that had died. You wanted Tom to just say it was over already instead of pretending everything was normal, but he was never going to do that.
“I don’t know. We left things kinda up in the air.” Tom replied. The boys exchanged glances and Harrison nodded to let them know he was gonna take charge.
“Up in the air?” He questioned.
“Yep. Up in the air. Ambiguous. Vague. Open to interpretation. Call it what you want.” Tom shrugged again like it didn’t matter, but it did.
“Well what was the last thing you said to each other?” Harry wondered.
“She said she needed some space and was going to New York. And I said okay.” Tom recalled.
“What about before that?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk much in the days leading up to her leaving.” Tom replied and took a long sip of his tea.
“She didn’t speak to you?” Sam asked.
“She did.” Tom nodded. “Sometimes.”
“You didn’t speak to her?” Harrison asked, already knowing the answer.
“I didn’t have anything to say.” Tom shrugged. Nobody spoke a word, but all the boys were thinking the same thing. They knew how bad this was, and that it signaled the end of your relationship.
“What?” Tom asked when he noticed the shift in vibe.
“I’m just surprised.” Harrison shrugged. “You guys were never like this. I can’t even remember your last fight.”
“We didn’t fight. You can’t fight when you don’t speak.” Tom said with a sarcastic smile.
“You should call her.” Harry suggested. “It’s gonna be at least a week since she’s been there, right?”
“Four weeks.” Tom corrected without meeting anyone’s else.
“Mate, you gotta call her.” Harry said quietly and put his hand on Tom’s shoulder.
“I can’t.” Tom shook his head.
“Why not?”
“She can’t break up with me if I don’t talk to her. As long as we don’t have that conversation, we’ll still be together.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works, Buddy.” Harrison said apologetically. Tom sucked in a sharp breath and looked at his friend with tears brimming his bloodshot eyes.
“I don’t know what else to do.” He said with a crack in his voice.
“Oh shit.” Sam said suddenly, getting everyone’s attention.
“What?” Tom asked.
“She’s dropping a song tonight. She just announced it.” Sam said and showed Tom your Twitter. Tom took Sam’s phone to read your announcement better. Sure enough, you had posted a picture of you dramatically lying across a piano bench with your left hand covering half of your face. You had a ring on every finger except for your ring finger, a detail that wasn’t lost on Tom. He handed Sam’s phone back and look at the floor.
“You didn’t know about this?” Sam asked, and Tom shook his head. He’d gone from being the first person you played every song for to finding out on Twitter that you had a song coming out.
“What’s it called?” Harrison wondered. Sam looked down at his phone to read the title and gulped.
“Who cares?” Sam forced a laugh and put his phone away.
“What’s it called?” Tom asked again.
“You Don’t Know Me Anymore.” Sam mumbled. Tom shut his eyes and hung his head in shame. He hadn’t even heard the song yet but knew it was going to be bad news.
“When does that come out?” He asked Sam.
“Midnight. Tonight.”
Tom’s friends stayed with him all day until midnight rolled around. At 11:58, Tom placed his laptop on the kitchen table and opened YouTube. He knew you always released lyric videos when you dropped a new song and he needed to reach every single world you said. When midnight came, he refreshed his screen and clicked on your video. The background image was a picture of you looking in a mirror with messy hair. You had digitally added sparkly, purple tears to run down the still image of your face. You played a couple notes on the piano before the lyrics appeared beside your face in your handwriting.
“I wish you’d just put me out of my misery
You already know I’m at your mercy
I don’t know why you’re dragging this out
You have all the power, if that’s what this is about
I’m not gonna be the one who walks away
So I need you to say what you want to say
I already know it’s over so just let it end
Please don’t give me the pity of asking to stay friends.”
“I don’t think we should be listening to this.” Sam said as he paused the video.
“Play it.” Tom demanded. Sam sighed and pressed play while the other exchanged looks.
“I’ve been feeling you leaving
I hate this part more than the ending
The moments leading up when I know your heart has changed
I don’t know why we keep pretending
If it’s done just say it’s done
Don’t just change your mind and not tell me
I already know so just let me go
Don’t just watch as I sit and bleed.”
“I don’t think-“ Sam began as he paused it again.
“Stop pausing it.” Tom cut him off. “Play it. I need to hear it.”
Sam pressed play again and Tom pulled the laptop over to himself so he could control it.
“Cause I cut my hand on that first crack in the glass
I feel the icy air between us when you pass me
So I took your chain off from around my neck
I’ll think of something else your initial can stand for
You don’t deserve to see me wearing it anyway
You don’t know me anymore.”
Tom didn’t realize he had started to cry until his tears his his keyboard. He couldn’t see the video anymore from his blurry his eyes had gotten. He wiped his face and leaned on his hands to give the song better attention.
“You know I would die for you in secret
Like that song I showed you in my car
I don’t think you even listened to it
You didn’t draw stars around my scars
You drew your arrow and let it fly
Right into my heart and let me die
Actually, I wish that was the curtesy you provided
Instead, you let this love become one sided
And now we’re shattered like a glass that was dropped
You broke my heart until the day that it stopped
You never got down on knee
Even when I crumbled onto both of mine
I wonder if you ever really wanted me
How did you think we were fine?
And at what part did you realize you liked the idea of me?
But who I actually am isn’t someone you wanted
I miss who I was before we met
Now I can’t go back, I’m haunted
And you were right not to marry me
If I could walk away from me too, I would
You were right to leave when you did
I know I would too if I could
But I’m stuck here with myself
Forever scratching and clawing at your door
Keep it all, even my memories
You’re lucky you don’t know me anymore.”
Everyone sat in silence once the song ended. Tom wiped his eyes again but tears just kept falling down his face.
“That probably wasn’t even about you.” Harrison said after a long beat of silence. Tom gave him a look before turning to his brothers.
“What do you think?” He asked Harry.
“It sounds like she’s hurting too.” Harry shrugged. “I think you’re both waiting for the other to say you’re broken up.”
“Well I’m not saying it.” Tom stated. “She has to.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Sam asked kindly.
“Then we don’t break up.”
“Again, I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”
“Well it’s what I’m going with. Because I can’t break up with her.” Tom sniffled and shut the laptop.
“But you can’t go on like this either.” Sam pointed out.
“She’ll come home when she’s ready.” Tom said, but no one in the room believed him.
And didn’t come home for a while.
After another week of silence, Tom flew to New York to see you. He got to your apartment and knocked on your door without any particular plan in mind. You opened it with a smile but when you saw who it was, you tensed up.
“Hi.” He said with a sad smile.
“If you came to to propose to me as some kind of grand gesture-“
“Please, let me talk.” He cut you off. You sighed and nodded as you leaned against your doorway.
“We have different opinions. But I don’t love or respect anyone more than you. So I am willing to hear your side, which is not something I did last time we spoke about this. I was just listening for what I could rebuttal against. I wasn’t actually listening to understand your thoughts and feelings. But I’m ready now.” He said. You nodded again and seemed to drop the wall that you had put up.
“It matters to me that we get married.” You told him. “I know you think it’s pointless and doesn’t change anything, but it changes things for me. If you picked out a ring, asked my parents permission, and got down on one knee, that would all make me feel special and loved. Those things matter to me in a relationship.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“But now you do know so if you propose, I know you’re just gonna do it to appease me. I’ll always know that you think it’s stupid when I look at the ring.”
“I admit that it found it a little dumb in the past. But it matters to you. And nothing that matters to you can be stupid.”
“I can’t get married to you knowing you don’t really want it. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.” You said and went to close the door.
“But I can’t lose you. My thoughts on marriage literally do not matter to me in the slightest. If it’s important to you and if it is what it takes to make you feel special and loved, then I want it too.” Tom pleaded as he pushed your door back open.
“But you don’t want it. You just don’t want to break up.”
“I can put on a tux for a night and suffer through if it means that much to you.” He said with a slight laugh to lighten the mood. Your face changed and he had somehow made the situation worse.
“Suffer?” You asked quietly with a told of your head.
“I’m sorry. That was a poor choice of words. But darling, I’m saying we can get married. I’ll do whatever it is you want. Why do you still look so upset?”
“Because you don’t get it.” You shook your head. “And I’m afraid you never will.”
“What don’t I get? I don’t understand. I’m telling you I’ll give you what you want.”
“But you don’t want it too. That’s what I’m trying to say. It’s the principle, Tom. Remember how disappointed I was that one time when I said I wanted ice cream so we went to the shop but you didn’t get anything? I didn’t mean I wanted ice cream. I meant I wanted us to get ice cream together so we could eat it and spend time together. This is like that but times a million. You can’t compromise on marriage. You either believe in it or you don’t. So even if we did get married, it wouldn’t mean to you what it means to me. I would always think back to that conversation we had and remember how you really feel about marriage. I keep replaying all the things you said that day in my head. We both know how you feel about marriage and we both know it’s not something you want.”
“So that one conversation ruined it for you? Completely?” He asked.
“Yes, it did.” You answered truthfully. You stared at each other for a minute as both your eyes welled with tears. You both knew you’d reached a stalemate and there was nothing more to be done.
“So what do we do now?” Tom asked without looking at you.
“I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You told him, making him perk up.
“So do I.” He smiled as tears rolled down his face.
“But what if that’s not enough?” You asked him. Tom froze and felt the situation escaping from him fast.
“We’ve been together almost 5 years, darling. That’s five birthdays, Christmas’s, anniversaries. You make up so much of my life. We’re exactly right for each other. It’s supposed to be you and me in the end. I can’t do this with anyone else.”
“And I can’t do this with you.” You laughed sadly and gestured to him. Tom’s heart dropped in his chest when it became apparent that this was more than just a fight.
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“I think I am.” You nodded. Neither of you could believe the words that were coming out of your mouth but it was too late to take them back.
“Does marriage really mean that much to you that you’d rather break up instead of just living a long, happy life together?” Tom asked you.
“I guess it does.” You realized. He stood there in shock as you put a hand on his shoulder and brought him closer to kiss his cheek.
“Goodbye, Tom.” You smiled sadly at him and shut your door.
Another month went by and you did not come home. You busied yourself with your music and dove into your next album, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about him on midnights when you were left alone with your thoughts. Tom thought about you a lot more often, like every time he saw your face on his TV. He tuned in one night to watch you debut your latest music video of your newest song. His eyes were glued to the TV as the video opened with your back to some brown eyed actor.
“You say “I don’t understand” and “I say I know you don’t.” We thought a cure would come through in time, now I fear it won’t.” You sang with your eyes glued to the floor. The setting changed and you were walking through an apartment that Tom recognized.
“She filmed this on Cornelia Street?” Tom whispered to himself and sat back on his couch.
“Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light.” A smiling version of you sang as she walked though the apartment holding the hand of the actor playing Tom. The setting changed again and you were still in the room, but the lights were off and you were sitting alone in the floor.
“Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.” You sang while not looking in the camera. The rest of the video followed in suit. You flashed between happy, golden hued memories with the actor to grey toned solo shots of you sitting alone at your piano or on the floor. The difference in the moods made Tom reminisce on the old times and he wondered how long it has been since he had made you smile the way you were doing in the video.
“Stop, you’re losing me. Stop, stop, stop. You’re losing me.” You sang while looking directly into the camera as a purple heart monitor line ran through the background behind you and eventually flatlined. Tom felt like you were staring right into his soul and realized this was the closest he’d gotten to making eye contact with you in a while. He watched the sad, grey version of yourself split from the happy version and suddenly, there were two of you on the screen while the actor playing Tom ignored them both.
“How long can we be a sad song till we were too far gone to bring back to life?” The both of you sang while Tom’s counterpart read the newspaper and didn’t look at either. He thought of the days leading up to you leaving for New York where he’d be doing exactly that, reading the newspaper to pretend to look busy when he felt you glaring at him. He wiped his face and watched as the scene changed to the three of you at a party. The sad version of you was clinging to Tom’s counterpart defensively while the other version of you yelled at him with a drink in your hand.
“Fighting in only your army. Front lines, don’t you ignore me. I’m the best thing as this party.” You yelled and drunkenly stumbled around while the rest of the party watched.
“You’re losing me.” The grey version whispered into Tom’s ear. He assumed that version represented the part of you that missed him while the other version represented the you that knew it was over. The scene changed again and this time, you were back in the Cornelia Street apartment with an open ring box in the center of the table. There was no ring inside, just a burning flame.
“And I wouldn’t marry me either. A pathological people pleaser.Who only wanted you to see her.” You said into the camera while Tom’s character threw things into a bag behind you and went to leave.
“And I’m fading thinking do something babe! Say something! Lose something, babe. Risk something. You’re losing me! Chose something, babe. I got nothing to believe unless you’re choosing me.” The grey version of you desperately said to Tom’s counterpart as she pulled on his arm to beg him to stay. It was like he couldn’t see her at all and just kept walking towards the door. The golden version of yourself opened the door and pointed for him to get out while the other version of you jumped in front of him and dropped to her knees to get him to stay. Tom’s character walked right through her and she faded to dust, leaving just the one version of yourself to watch him go. The music stopped and you ended up running after him, but he was already gone. You turned and ran down Cornelia Street but didn’t go back into your apartment. You just kept running down the street and turned the block so that the camera couldn’t see you anymore. The camera panned out to show the Cornelia Street sign and a violin version of your song by the same name played in the background as the street sign turned grey and faded into dust. The screen turned black and Tom was left alone in the silence.
After another month, he found himself outside your door again. He knocked on it and felt his heart pound until you opened it up.
“Tom? What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you. I came to fix this.” He said simply.
“Tom, I don’t know that we can fix this.” You said apologetically. It felt amazing to see him, but it didn’t change the fact that you ultimately wanted different things in life.
“You were right. You can’t compromise on marriage. And you either believe in it or you don’t.” He began before getting down on one knee.
“Tom?” You asked skeptically as your eyes went wide. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and opened it up for you.
“It’s your moms ring. Your dad gave it to her for the third Valentine’s Day they celebrated together in college. She doesn’t wear it anymore because it’s one size too small, so she gave it to me when I asked them for permission to marry you.”
“You asked them?” You smiled in surprise that he had done one of the things you said mattered to you.
“I did. It was a little awkward to find out your mother already knew all about our previous conversations about marriage so you can probably guess how confused I was.” He said with an embarrassed laugh.
“What did my dad say?”
“He said as long as I make you happy, he’s proud to have me join the family.”
“See? No one’s giving me away to anyone. We’re just creating a bigger family for the two of us.”
“I see that now. I see a lot of the points you made. And what your dad said got me thinking.”
“About?”
“All I want is to make you happy. Which is different from agreeing to things I don’t want to do to appease you. I do want to watch you walk down the aisle in a dress that’s been in your Pinterest board since you were 13. I do want to plan the seating arrangement and introduce my weird friends from college to your weird friends from college. I want to plan the entire thing because that’s something we can do together, and those are my favorite things to do.”
“What about the ceremony? And the marriage license? You don’t want those things.”
“I didn’t at first.” He admitted. “But after actually thinking about it and reevaluating the opinion I formed before I ever even had a serious relationship, I realized I feel differently. You make me feel differently. I would proudly sign my name next to yours on a marriage license. Because I happen to think our names look pretty good together. And as for the ceremony, I know we can’t compromise, but we can collaborate. It doesn’t have to be a huge blowout party. It can be the best elements of the both of us. And we can plan it together.”
“That all sounds very lovely, but it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t believe in marriage just a few months ago. Am I really supposed to believe you’ve truly changed your mind? What if this is just some grand gesture to win me back that you end up regretting?” You asked him.
“I will never end up regretting promising my love for you in front of our family and friends. I’ll never regret hyphenating our names so that everyone knows I’m a part of a duo. I’ll never regret choosing to legally attach myself to my vets friend and spend the rest of my life with her. But I can tell you with the utmost assurance that I would regret letting you walk away and become a name I wince at for the rest of my life.”
“You felt differently not too long ago.” You quietly reminded him. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you couldn’t fully trust it.
“I changed my mind. I realized somethings are more important than other things. And that you’re more important than anything.”
Your skeptical expression turned into a coy smile as you slid your hand into the one that wasn’t holding the open ring box.
“You never actually said the words.” You told him, making Tom break into a relieved smile.
“Darling, would you make me the happiest man-“
“Eh. Try again. Too cliche.” You cut him off. Tom smiled and shook his head, knowing you weren’t gonna make it easy.
“My love, I don’t want to spend another minute as just your boyfriend.” He tried again.
“Lame. Thumbs down.” You shook your head and pointed your thumb down.
“Would you do me the honor-“
“Yawn.” You interrupted.
“Will you just marry me, you annoying brat?” Tom groaned.
“Tom! I thought you’d never ask!” You gushed over dramatically and put your hand over your heart.
“Is that a yes?” Tom asked as he stood up.
“I have to think about it. I don’t know if marriage is for me.” You shrugged as he slid the ring onto your finger. You looked down at the ring and remembered the time you tried it on as a little girl and how it didn’t fit your finger until now.
“Yes. I will marry you.” You smiled as you looked back up at Tom. Tom broke into a grin and scooped you up to spin you around.
“Sorry I wrote all those emo songs about you.” You said into his ear, making him laugh.
“It’s okay. It’s what you do.” He couldn’t stop smiling as he set you down. He then pulled you in for a long kiss to make up for all the time you were apart. When you pulled away, he pulled your face back towards him with his hands to kiss your left cheek.
“I see you.” He said, then kissed you right cheek.
“I choose you.” He continued, then kissed your forehead.
“I love you.” He said, the kissed your nose before looking into your eyes.
“And I know you.” He told you. You smiled softly and nodded your head.
“You do?” You asked him. “You really know me?”
“I do.”
Tag List 🏷️
@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey
@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison
@andreasworlsboring101 @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention
@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique
@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill
@every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @fiantomartell
@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife
@saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah
@seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland
@yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie
@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey
#tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x singer!reader#tom holland fluff#tom holland angst#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
kinktober day four: voyeurism kink
>>> guys can you tell i have a choso fantasy or do i need to write another five thousand word fic to prove it i'm sobbing and actually in love with him fr. it took me days to write this bc i was just too feral.
>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader
>>> cw: roommate choso, hung like a horse choso, virgin choso, voyeurism clearly, petnames, masturbation, cowgirl, implied multiple rounds, choso whimpers you're so welcome, choso smokes a blunt grow up
>>> wc: 4.8k
>>> event masterlist
this whole roommate ordeal seemed easy enough. you had a spare room in your condo, yuji had a spare brother that needed a place to stay after graduation. it worked out perfectly, as you weren’t too keen on having a rando move in. though the half-curse was little more than that, really. you had only come in contact with choso briefly, seeing him move through the halls of jujutsu tech in search of the very brother that recommended him to you. he was intimidating, tall and broad with a look of disinterest across his face every time you ran into him. yuji had told you that he wasn’t necessarily unfriendly, just unsure, so you were weary to approach him once he moved into the spare room. you didn’t want to overdo it, you would hate to make him uncomfortable with all these changes he was getting accustomed to. so for the first three months or so, you two would only exchange pleasantries and nod respectfully, two strangers sharing an address and lingering curious stares. then, one morning you offered to make him breakfast, and you two settled into a comfortable friendship after that.
Nowadays, nearly a year later, the living area was actually used and shared. you watched recommended shows together, introduced each other to your favorite movies, and oftentimes just sat in each other’s presence on the couch; on your phones, playing nintendo switch games, or passing choso’s best attempt at a blunt between you while shit talking your neighbors with your legs in his lap. you even encouraged him to invest in a real gaming setup, where he plays a host of different games for hours while you sit contently in the bean bag chair stationed nearby in his room, reading or crafting or just watching from time to time. the more comfortable he became, the more fun he was to be around. he was no longer shy to ask you to sit with him while he plays or to inquire about your latest book and his smiles and conversations flowed more freely.
he enjoys your presence. it’s easy to be around you. he wonders why. even with all the progress he had made with you, he was still terribly awkward around new people and his social battery was limited. he never got tired of hanging out with you though, in fact, he craves it always. yuji says that it’s because you’re pretty, which choso can’t disagree with, though his brother’s statement irritates him for no good reason.
he finds himself wondering if his brother knows you the way he does, silly things about you like which animal crossing character you would reincarnate as or the fact you hate grape flavored anything—it all tastes like cough syrup!--he can hear you say. no, he gets to see the real you, the one you reserve just for him. so yuji can think you’re pretty all he wants, but he’s the one who gets to see your breathtaking smiles in reaction to something he said.
“bro?! still there–or are you too busy being jealous?” yuji snickers, relishing in the match he made. he knew choso would wake up with a babe like you walking around.
“you’re a child. and a dick.” he huffs, aggravated by his spacey sibling’s acute sense of his feelings. “goodbye.” he taps to end their weekly gaming marathon facetime two hours short out of annoyance, confronted with the silence of his bedroom and his questioning thoughts about you. jealous? as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he was. he couldn't even picture the thought of you being with someone else, try as he might. did that mean he wanted to be that person? your person? he’s so confused, but he knows even if he’s embarrassed he can talk to you about it. you could help him work through his feelings and come to a solution. even if the feelings were about you, he knows you would always be honest with him. he sighs, deciding to make his way to your room down the hall.
you two didn’t spend a lot of time apart now that the bond had been created, and you were more than alright with that routine, because on fridays, choso holed up in his room for five straight hours to facetime yuji and play video games giving you some much needed time to yourself. you always started with a long and intricate shower, doing all your different exfoliants and masks. then you’d touch up your nails and give yourself a total spa treatment, finishing up by putting on your cutest little panties and releasing some of the pent up sexual frustration for your roommate that you keep under lock and key for the same reasons you were hesitant to cross into friendship territory all those months ago: you don’t want to scare him away.
so you settle for your own small hands cupping your chest and pinching at your nipples, trying to picture him. It’s choso’s large and veiny hands that run down your sides and spread your legs instead of your own toying with your underwear. you can smell the versace eros cologne he wears wafting through your nose, almost able to hear his gravelly voice in your ear praising you for doing so good. it’s almost embarrassing how easy it is to conjure the image of him sinking between your thighs, lust pooling in his violet eyes. you’re soaked already, feeling the fabric of your panties sticking to your cunt just at your active imagination. you peel them off, hissing as cold air blows across your middle, but your fingers quickly find the heat of your hole, gathering that natural lube to flick your clit with. your eyes are closed—whining helplessly already at the sensation you bring yourself with him in mind. it’s nowhere near the real deal, but the bliss is good enough to lull pants of his name from your mouth, body light as air.
choso doesn’t think anything of your closed door. you told him you keep it closed to let him have his space, not wanting him to feel like you’re watching or eavesdropping on him while he’s on the phone. especially as he got close enough to reach for your door handle, hearing you call his name. you sounded…strained? in all honesty he was worried. so he doesn’t hesitate to push the door open a bit, peeking to check. his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of you naked on your bed. you’re stunning. he’s seen pictures of other women—and yuji showed him a few websites—but your body was second to none. his hand flew to cover his immediate hard on, shocked you hadn’t noticed him yet. fuck, you are gorgeous, one hand squeezing at your breast, the other playing around in that squelching noise he hears between your legs. he fights the urge to moan aloud or announce his presence, and he’s ashamed of himself. he feels like he’s betraying your trust, but his dick keeps growing in his pants at the chants of his name spilling out of your lips. he watches as your legs jerk and your head falls back against your pillow, making him think you were almost done. he had to get out before you saw him or felt his unique energy so close to you. he’s panting as he shuts the door quietly, turning the knob just so it wouldn’t alert you.
his dick hurts as he makes it just one room down—the bathroom. perfect. he turns the shower on immediately, stripping his clothes off like they were on fire. he had set out to talk to you, to be completely honest about the thoughts he had been having, but seeing you like that did things to him words could not. he’s been horny before, of course, and dealt with that the way single human men do. but this—the desire coursing through his veins—this was different. so different. everything was clear now, he needed you. he stands with his back under the water, whimpering as his dick throbs to the mental image of your glistening pussy and blissed out face. he can’t help but close his fist around the his wide shaft, stuttering out a sigh in relief. he strokes himself to the same rhythm you moved your fingers, imagining how that pace would feel with your wet and warm cunt hugging him in instead of the rough surface of his hand. his other hand keeps him braced on the shower wall, steadying him through the searing heat the promises of your touch seem to be; to think that you were calling for him, thinking of him in the way he thinks of you now felt like a dream. he had to be hearing things, that’s the only excuse the man can summon. water beads down his biceps and chest, and it just makes his dirty deed all that much more so, fucking into his fist until his load is running down the side of the tub, the pearly beads getting swept away in the water and carried down the drain. he tosses his head back in the shower stream, his long black strands sticking to his face and neck as he tries to rinse away his shame.
that night, choso doesn’t come out of his room to watch a movie with you before bed. you pout, but try not to linger on it too long. maybe yuji took a lot out of him today, or they didn’t have a successful time on and he was moody. either way, you weren’t going to bother him. you hang out on the couch like usual with the hopes that he would emerge soon, but as your bedtime nears and everything remains still, you slink off to your room with a sour mood to end an otherwise normal day.
as the days pass, choso’s behavior gets weirder and weirder. it’s almost as if he’s completely reverted inside his shell he made when he moved in, only emerging to get food when he had hoped you weren’t around. the times in which he did inevitably run into you were dealt in nervous laughter and denials that anything was wrong with him. it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he was lying, hiding something from you even. you were slightly hurt that he didn’t trust you enough to talk to you, instead of going backwards and shutting you out. you wanted to wait it out, but as the days turned into a full week, you feared losing him altogether.
you stewed over the situation the entire time you were at work. you couldn’t even get anything accomplished because you were too preoccupied wondering what you had done to wound your connection. spending your days alone was maddening. a little over a year ago, you would have relished in the peace and quiet, but now it was unwelcome. you only wanted quiet if it was filled with the subtle sounds of pages turning or the buttons of a controller smashing or shared breathing during the climax of a show. this was haunting, and you knew you had to do something. you left work early, faking a stomach ache in order to get home and corner choso into relenting. no more miss nice roommate. you were tired of letting him be all weird and distant. so you walked in unceremoniously, not necessarily out to scare him. you shake your sandals off by the door and walk towards his room, noting that his door was actually open for once.
that was only because you weren’t supposed to be home for three and a half more hours, giving choso plenty of time to relive his dirty fantasies of you with the least amount of guilt possible, though he could barely look you in the eye these days. if you weren’t home, he could at least not worry about you catching him in his perverted acts, only dealing with the shame that flows in after he’s came for the millionth time to the image of your legs quivering and mouth parting in pleasure. he didn’t hear you sneak in–didn’t hear you shuffle down the hall to poke your head around the doorframe. he was dead to the outside world, his hips stuttering into his hand, thumb swiping the pre-cum that beaded there around his slit, stroking himself with whimpers of your name tumbling out, his eyes scrunched tight in concentration.
your jaw was on the floor, never in a million years imagining that he even knew how to touch himself like that, not to mention the prayers of your name on his tongue, mirroring the ones you make for him on fridays. he was massive, it had you covering your mouth in shock. even with his huge hand, it seemed like pumping himself was a tall task. you couldn’t imagine trying to do it yourself, you’re not even sure two hands would do the trick— you must have gasped aloud or something, because suddenly his head snaps toward where you stand in the doorway.
“y/n–you’re–” his dark eyes are wide, his lips parted in realization that you had really caught him jerking off and mewling your name like a helpless perv. as the guilt starts to creep in, the haze of need and desire clouds his mind. he never lets go of himself, all too aware of your lip between your teeth and your hardened nipples poking through your top—no, you shouldn’t be seeing this, you shouldn’t even be home yet! not to mention how ashamed you should be of your own roommate rutting into his hand.
“...i’m home.” you whisper back, a slight smirk creeping onto your face. despite the red blush spreading across his cheeks, he keeps fucking up into his hand. it’s salacious, and you can feel your body responding to the sight, unsurprisingly. you’ve been picturing him naked for months, and not even your lewd imagination gave him justice. every plane on his body was sculpted and defined, thick veins running down his arms and thighs and cock. he left his hair down, some of the strands tucked behind his ear, some of them hung over his brows and cheekbones. he gulped when he noticed your stare, your eyes locked on the thick cock in his hand, curved with an angry and needy tip.
“y/n, i’m so so sorr–” he scrambles to sit up, the heavy reality finally sinking in. he was awful, sick in the head, you were going to have him pack his shit immediately, and he’d have to tell all his friends why you had gotten rid of him.
“need some help?” you spit out, unable to tolerate the pounding in your chest and pussy. his eyes grow impossibly wider, blood rushing in his ears. did he understand you right? he couldn’t possibly.
“wh-what?” he sputtered, sitting up slightly to try and hide himself from view a bit, as if you hadn’t seen every bit of him already.
“i asked if you wanted my help. you were saying my name, weren’t you?” you tease gently, stepping further into his room, your hands innocently folded behind your back. now that you know your desire is shared, you felt confident enough to push your relationship further yet again. he nods hesitantly, watching you stalk over to the bed like a lioness about to pounce.
“i–yes, it’s not what you think. i know it looks–”
“like you were jacking off and thinking about me? is that not…what you were doing?” you hum, pausing by the foot of his bed. you look so cute, he has to believe you know what you’re doing, folding your arms under your voluptuous chest just to taunt him a bit more. you have him backed into a corner, and he either had to admit the truth or come up with a very clever lie. and he is not a gifted liar.
“i–yeah…” he looks away, feeling the shame weighing down on him now that you had confronted him with the undeniable truth.
you chuckle warmly. “i do the same thing, ‘cept I’m thinking of you.” you shrug, the smirk growing on your face as realization seeps into his. he didn’t misunderstand you that day or even earlier in this conversation. you want him too. he swallows thickly again, remembering the day that started all of this.
“i–i know, i saw you, last week.” he chokes out as you take your top off, revealing yourself to him. He’d noticed your lack of bra earlier, but didn’t expect to be blessed with the sight of your body again, especially as you bend at the hips to wiggle out of your pants. Your laughter surprises him again, like he had intentionally made a joke. but it was only because he had solved the mystery that led you to his room in the first place, and that would potentially resolve any secrets you had been keeping from one another.
“so that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” you scrunch your nose at him adorably as you crawl onto the bed, his eyes glued to the body that had him locked in his bedroom day and night. “oh choso, i wish you would have interrupted me…i surely woulda let you help me.” you purr, so close to him that he could reach out and touch you now, and he definitely thinks about just grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him, finally feeling that glistening pussy for himself—to hell with his imagination, but your voice interrupts his thoughts again.
“so, do you want me to help you, baby?” you glance from the hard length in his hands to his deep purple eyes, swirling with something you recognize very well to be deep desire.
“please–” he whimpered and let his hand fall away from his pelvis, looking to you like a pathetic boy getting his teenage dreams fulfilled. Your grin grows wide, and you lean closer to brush your hand across his toned abdomen. he lets out a pleased little grunt and his cock jumps at the simple touch
“you’ve never been with anyone, have you?” you asked, faces so close he can see every freckle and dimple and scar on your skin. he shakes his head. you peck the tip of his nose. he’s already shivering, the feeling of your body leaning over his was exhilarating. your kiss was so simple and sweet, but it stopped all the thoughts in his brain. he was just malleable now, ready to let you make him feel good, finally shifting from imagination to reality. “need you to talk to me, so i can know where you’re at, cho.”
“no, no..never.” he shakes his head again, eying you with excitement and nerves all at once. he wants to touch you, and you’ve already stripped naked and kissed him, so surely there was no going back now, so he reaches up and places his hands on your hips—so light like he was afraid to hurt you.
you grin at both his answer and his courageous touch, nodding your encouragement, “that’s fine, i’ll help you…just do what feels natural–you can go as hard as you want., and tell me if you want to stop.” your eyes blink at him sweet he realizes he would trust you with his life if you asked.
“okay.” he lets your words wash over him, nodding as he grips your hips a little tighter. he’s more than embraced his fate, his mouth watering a bit at the idea that you were in his bed and offering to make all his fantasies come true. you were expecting him to keep that deer in a headlights look, but when you rake your fingernails across his chest, you watch his eyes darken a bit more. “kiss me?”
choso looks so cute, you couldn’t deny him if you wanted to. his eyebrow raised with innocence, but his eyes shrouded in arousal. you giggle softly and lean up, sliding your hands over his pecs and shoulders and into those dark locks calling your name. you tug, and he gasps softly. you take that opportunity to cover his parted lips with your own, his head falling back to accommodate you as you fully crawl into his lap. he melts, you feel and taste so impossibly good he’s concerned he may bust over the kiss. your tongue moves so expertly against his, twirling around and sucking on the muscle in a way he didn’t know people employed. then you’re sitting on his abs, and he can feel so much at once. his eyes blow wide in the kiss, and he has to pull away to gasp again and see what you’re doing to him.
you’re simply sitting, your pretty shining pussy rubbing against his core and his dick teasing the crack of your ass. that must be what’s driving him insane, the warmth and softness providing some but not enough friction. you wiggle your ass a bit to tease him, and he whimpers. the sound is so sweet and low you know you can’t handle playing with the shy little virgin much longer.
“i–is th–that sup’posed to f-feel that go–ngh, good?” he stammers, the hold on your hips bordering bruising. he doesn’t even realize, and you certainly don’t mind, so you only smile and nod down at him, reaching for his chin with your fingers. he makes you look so small without even trying, the broad expanse of his body, wide jaw and thick legs—not to mention the monstrous cock rocking against your behind, your own need soaking his happy trail to the skin beneath. you move his gaze from your sensual movements back to your sultry gaze. yuji was wrong. pretty was such a mild way to describe the woman on his lap. you were more a kin to a goddess, something not fully human like him.
“i was hoping to give you the full treatment, but i don’t think you’ll mind if i skip to the main event?” you bite your lip, your other hand scraping at his scalp a little bit. no, of course he didn’t mind. sometimes you were so silly. he nods fervently, remembering that he needed to find his voice, to not seem like such a coward when he wanted this so badly.
“no—please,” he whimpers again, feeling the drip of your liquid on him. it dawns on him then that you’re just as needy, and you still wanted him even though you’d have to teach him what to do. you didn’t seem worried, maybe it was easier than he thought. but all he knows is that his balls are starting to hurt and he had never felt more buzzed in his entire life, sensitive to every move you make. “i need you so bad, oh sh–”
you scoot back, lifting yourself up a little to align him with your entrance. his whimpers and begs were so fucking amazing, you wish you had it in you to milk it. you make the mental note to keep him begging when you show him what it feels like to have his dick sucked or whimpering when he eats your cunt for the first time. he’s so heavy in your hand, and you can’t even close your fist around him. it makes you shudder, knowing that you’re going to make him fit inside you no matter the stretch. his tip was so red and irritated, oozing pre. you swiped it over his head, humming in amusement as he jerks and whines at the feeling.
“you’re massive, d’you know that?” you pout, sinking down a few inches. he moans at first, feeling like his cock was fit into a perfect sleeve. it’s unreal, the heat he feels in his gut as you rock further down on him, whining at how huge he was. he watches the pained faces you make halfway down, the concern clear on his face. he didn’t know he was that big—he hadn’t really been comparing, but if it was hurting you, he wondered what he could do. he remembers watching you play with that sensitive spot at the apex of your thighs, using your own slick to glide around. he thinks he could replicate that, so he sticks his fingers in his mouth, spitting a bit to make sure they were just as wet as you were. you take more of him, almost to his base all while panting and bracing yourself on his chest with your eyes screwed shut. he reaches toward you, swiping his fingers around the place he watched you toy with. you gasp out and sit all the way down, the noises you make as he touches you make his eyes widen again.
“god—i’m so full, baby.” you nod, your hips moving forward automatically, searching for more of that searing feeling he brings to your clit. he surprises you, moving his digits in slow circles as you get accustomed to his size. he chokes slightly when you squeeze him, his eyes zeroed in on your face.
“are you alright?” he asks softly, feeling your nails dig into his chest as your hips move faster now, any other words he had wanted to say sucked from his brain like he had no thoughts at all, nothing other than that vice-grip of a pussy you have locked around him, bouncing softly and leaving little half-moons in his skin.
“mhm, just had to stretch a bit t’fit you, are you alright?” you grin as you ask, knowing he would struggle to respond—in the best way possible. he nods eagerly, eyes flickering from where you swallow him up to your soft face of bliss.
“are you kidding? i’m—” you rock on him a bit faster, the feeling of wet and choking walls rubbing every possible spot had him sputtering, unable to speak. he’s only able to watch you run a hand through your mane, keeping it out of your face and away from your bouncing tits. he’s in heaven. being with a woman, no, being with you, was as all the eternal bliss he cared to know.
his hips start to move, the hold he has on your hips trailing up to the curves of your waist to better hold you down. he didn’t realize how much more intense he would make this feel for the both of you, grunts and whines spilling from his lips as you begin to cry out and yell. it’s heavenly, the way you let him drive into you, leaning forward with one hand on the headboard and the other tugging his head towards your chest. he contains his pathetic pants by sucking your nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it, mind so drunk and hazy he can only be driven by his primal instincts, flat footed on the bed to plow into you from below.
it’s so perfect. you scream his name way better than he ever imagined, and he doesn’t mind to bear the scratch marks of your passion. you keep squeezing around him, and it drives him crazy.
“i–i love when you do that—clenching down on me like that, fuck.” He grunts, slowly getting his knees under him while you sloppily keep the pace. he uses the leverage to ease you to your back, though you don’t have the luxury of pillows or a headboard, only the mattress beneath you as choso realizes this positioning lets him piston his hips without you having to do any work at all. you’re wailing, nodding to keep him from worrying about you as you continuously claw at his back and shoulders.
“choso baby—” you whine in such a way, he knows he’s going to bust in seconds. “you’re gonna make me cum, please–doin’ so good, ngh—ack!” you cry, legs tightening around his waist as he feels a significant increase of your fluids. feeling and watching you cum by his doing was the nail in the coffin—the way your face screwed up in pure pleasure brought him his own, his pelvis stilling against the mounds of your backside, cock twitching against your womb before your vision is blurry, and all you feel is warmth seeping out of you. his load leaked out around him inside you, his cock still pulsating with no signs of dying down.
he smiles at you a little shyly, his cheeks rosy and eyes hazy with the aftershocks of such a gripping orgasm. he watches your chest heave as you calm down, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading across your face as you look up at him.
“what do i do now? to take care of you?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the creases where your thighs meet your hips. you giggle and shake your head, knowing it would take multiple rounds for his erection to die down.
“i show you the full treatment now, baby.” you grin, wiggling your eyebrows.
choso found himself immersed in exploring himself and your body, discovering several new kinks to enjoy with his sweet little roommate turned lover.
#kyleewritesjjk#kylee's kinktober event#kinktober 2023#kinktober#choso x reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#choso smut#choso x voyeurism#jjk choso#choso kamo#choso
949 notes
·
View notes
Text
i'm such a sucker for the one bed trope I blushed so hard😳 hope u like it nonnie♡
°☆○
oh no... there's only one bed♡
𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ fluff // tw? rougher sex in aku's part also briefly proofread
𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊
Due to Ada's limited budget the two of you had to share a room during a mission in another town. When you opened the door and see the king size bed in the middle of the room your heart sunk.
"My, my guess we have to share a bed bella" he commented, playfully nudging your arm and you can barely contain a desperate sigh.
Dazai knew you had a crush on him and was dead set on making you confess your feelings first. After all, his pride didn't allow him to just cave in.
That's how you ended up like that: his fingers knuckle deep inside you and your face buried in the crook of his neck. Your little pants and muffled moans bounced off the thin walls of the room as he slowly worked you open, the tips of his index and middle finger brushing against your sweet spot with each skillful curl.
"Keep it down, bella. I believe president Fukuzawa and Ranpo are in the room next to us. You wouldn't want them to hear how needy you are, right?" he teased, pressing his thumb against your neglected clit and you had to bite down on his shirt to drown your lewd moans.
The feeling was intoxicating; the exhaustion brought on by your mission that day paired with the glass of wine you had for dinner made your brain fuzzy. You limbs felt heavy as if you were melting into him and the way he curled his fingers into you was just delicious.
When you finally took a deep breath in his musky scent reached your nose, making your mushy walls flutter around his fingers as you let out a helpless whimper.
"So, wanna admit you like me now? I'll let you cum if you do" he pressed, hot breath dripping all over your cheeks and you nodded.
"Yea, I like you a lot please don't stop now"
"I knew it 'donna. No woman can resist my charm"
His comment only aggravated you further; yes, you did like him, but that attitude of his was starting to get on your nerves. Hooking a fingers under the wristband of his slacks you dipped your hand lower and ran your fingertips along his throbbing erection, making him shudder.
A satisfied hum rolled past your lips upon witnessing his reaction and you started trailing wet, open mouth kisses along the expanse of his neck "Seems like you can't resist me either, Dazai"
𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂
Chuuya glanced at the clock on the nightstand; its thin, fluorescent hands angled slightly to the right. 2.10 a.m and he was still as restless as he was four hours ago when he went to bed with you.
The events that took place that day kept bugging him, replaying on and on in his mind like scenes from an old picture movie. After a most bothersome trip to the hotel the two of you made it to the event on time- some meeting he was supposed to attend in the name of the Port Mafia; with you as his plus one.
Making it through dinner would've been easier if you hadn't been there to distract him from every conversation he tried to engage in. You, all dolled up in your prettiest dress with that picture perfect smile that made his heart swell.
Even now as you laid in bed next to him, tucked snugly under the covers, Chuuya couldn't shake off the overwhelming feeling that took over him. Despite the late hour he was alert, your mere presence acting like a shot of espresso. He tried his best not to touch you in any way but you seemed to instinctively drift closer to him in your sleep.
Your warm, cherry wine breath fanned over his cheeks; your bodies so close he could make out the tiny little pieces of mascara that dusted your cheekbones. He gently swiped his thumb along your cheek tracing the outline of your face and you hummed softly. His breath stuck in his throat when you leaned into his touch, leaving him paralysed.
As if sensing the shift in his attitude you slowly woke up, peering at him through half-lidded eyes. "Chuu what time is it?" you mumbled in a low, sleepy voice that snapped him out of his trance.
"Around 2 a.m. You can go back to sleep" he said plainly, hastly removing his hand from your cheek; his fingertips aching at the loss of your touch.
You yawned, shifting impossibly closer to him "Why're you still up? Had a bad dream?". Chuuya only hummed in response, trying to ignore the growing tension in his muscles.
"Yea, something like that, but don't worry your pretty head about it". Mumbling a sleepy mkay you closed your eyes again as your fingers found his under the duvet. At first he tried to shake you off but you seemed drawn to him by some sort of magnetism, your fingertips sliding up his arm to the edge of his tshirt then back down, raising goosebumps in their way, your bare leg making its way between his.
Even in your half asleep state you were seeking out his closeness, his warmth and he couldn't deny you. Chuuya wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer to him. A satisfied hum left your throat and he felt his body slowly relaxing. The effect you had on him never ceased to amaze him, one moment you were making his blood rush the other you acted like a sedative, a sweet narcotic numbing his mind, soothing his soul.
Chuuya knew he wouldn't be able to keep his feelings hidden for too long. Not anymore. But the way you so eagerly leaned into his touch as you whispered a sweet goodnight Chuu made him realize that maybe he didn't have to; because in the end you liked him too.
𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂
Akutagawa has had enough of your sly, teasing attitude. You taunted him all evening with suggestive looks, swaying your hips as you sauntered around the room in your pretty little shorts and tank top, deliberately pressing yourself against him when the two of you eventually went to bed.
"'m sorry Akutagawa it's just really cold in here" you justified but he knew what you were trying to do.
You were both aware of each other's feelings and for a while you waited for him to make the first move. But of course, the waiting was in vain, so you decided to... persuade him a little.
What you didn't expect was for him to suddenly push your face down into the cushy sheets and climb on top of you, his chest almost entirely pressed against your arched back as he pinned you down.
"This 's what you want, hm?" he scoffed, pulling your flimsy underwear to the side to reveal your soaked cunt. "Shit, you're dripping. You really are shameless aren't ya?" His fingers slid briefly along your slick folds before dipping inside you.
You gasped at the sudden intrusion and instinctively circled your hips, trying to gain some sort of friction "Ryuu fhuk~" you babbled out, biting down on your finger but he wouldn't have it.
A harsh slap landed on your ass and you cried out a choked moan. "What a slut you are..." he spat, hot breath dripping onto your neck and cheeks. Coating his tip with your slick, he hastly lined himself up to your entrance before slamming inside you.
The stretch was borderline painful; Akutagawa left you little to no time to adjust to his length and immediately began thrusting inside you at a brutal pace. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the cramped room, the air growing hotter with each passing minute.
Akutagawa was on cloud nine, completely lost in the feeling of your pretty little cunt sucking him in. "Shit sweetheart you're so tight". Hooking a arm under your hip he flipped you over in one swift motion, his hands coming to rest on each side of your head as he panted heavily.
For a moment you held his cold gaze, watching it slowly melt into something sweet, a mixture of need and adoration. Little drops of sweat began to trickly down his charcoal strands and drip onto your chest as he resumed his punishing rhythm.
Your eyes rolled further back in your skull with each of his thrusts, the tip of his cock effortlessly kissing your sweet spot- and you smiled lewdly, a fucked out grin that almost made him cum on the spot.
"Ya know pretty girl I didn't know you were such a dumb slut when I fell for ya" he chuckled, his thrusts growing sloppier "It doesn't change a thing though I love you and this little cunt of yours". He pressed down on your clit lightly, causing your back to arch.
"There you go sweetie just cum need you gushing all over me" he panted, lowering his forehead against yours. Through batting lashes you could see the way he nipped at his bottom lip with each little moan and sigh, how his nose scrunched as the vicious coil in his loins snapped and he spurted his cum deep inside you.
With a choked whine you came too, velvety walls clamping down around him, milking him dry. His arms finally gave in and he collapsed beside you, breathing heavily.
It took you a while to fully process what just happened; the man you've had a crush on for years just gave you the best orgasm of your life. "So... I guess this means you like me, right?" you asked in a weak voice, earning a chuckle from him. Akutagawa's fingers laced with your damp hair, pulling you closer to place a chaste kiss to your forehead. "You bet I do"
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#bsd fluff#bsd smut#dazai bsd#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#dazai x reader#bsd headcanons#dazai smut#akutagawa bsd#bsd akutagawa#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa smut#chuuya fluff#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara
537 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tugs and Strands
anniversary event [closed]
boo seungkwan x reader
prompt(s): absentmindedly playing with their hair at all times
word count: >1k
[a/n]: wrote this so fast i loved this prompt with kwan so much 🥹
masterlist
The first time Seungkwan hugged you, he buried his fingers in your hair.
A couple months of fist bumps as greetings and linked arms under the pretense of a budding friendship, he hadn’t actually hugged you until after you practically trauma dumped on some park bench outside a convenience store. It was 3 AM, no one to witness your exchange aside from the teenager at the till with his headphones in, playing some shooting game that required aggressive taps and shakes of his phone screen.
It was comforting, the usually scary empty alleyways and the faint smell of city smog all becoming part of the moment.
Tear-stained cheeks, yet a light heart, you rest your cheek against his shoulder in an attempt to physically relax, registering the hand on your back that holds you tight, and the other that’s wound itself in your hair, pulling your head closer to him.
You had thought it was simply a ‘hugging habit’ of his, having seen him guide the heads of your other friends who would hug him on whatever occasion. The particular preferences don’t truly set in until after you start dating.
Innocent enough movie night, popcorn and chips ‘n dip long consumed and digested, all that’s left is Kwan’s flat coke that sits dejected on the coffee table.
Hair falling free, head on your boyfriend’s shoulders, attention (mostly) on the screen in front of you. It isn’t until you’re nearing the climax that you fully realize that there’s something very gently shifting your hair.
To your right, Seungkwan’s fingers have gotten hold of a small chunk of your hair, twirling the strands between his digits, curling them around his finger, and then letting them fall. He picks them back up to go back to playing with them like an infinitely more relaxing fidget toy.
A quick glance at him and you realize he’s doing it subconsciously, his full attention on the scene that unfolds on the screen, eyes glazed yet concentrated. He feels your poignant stare and head shifting on his shoulder, turning to inquire.
“What?” he asks.
You shake your head, smiling a little as you rest your head back where it belongs, eyes training back to the film.
“Do you want me to change the movie?” he asks.
“Eyes on the screen, mister,” you huff humorously, taking a hand to his head to force it back forward.
You notice him doing it more frequently after that, reaching a stage of attention where you feel weirdly empty without feeling in the roots of your hair. Perhaps it was strange, but it had become a crutch of sorts, a more physical stimulant for instant calm.
The pinnacle, however, was when his hands would find your hair as you’d fall asleep, the familiar fingers playing with your strands having you snoring before you could even register falling asleep.
It’s been a long day, your spine screaming for some scalding hot water and the plush of your comforter. It’s earlier in the night when you retire, planting a kiss on Seungkwan’s awaiting lips as you bid him an earlier than usual goodnight. He promises to join in a couple hours.
“Do you want me to tuck you in?” he mumbles against your lips.
“Mm mm,” you hum against his own. “I’m a big girl.”
You both have smiles on your faces as you part.
The next thing you register as you open your heavy, bleary eyes is the familiar massage of fingers against your scalp and hair and a quiet hum of conversation beside you.
When you come to, you realize it can’t be too much later as Seungkwan is on the phone with someone, ready for bed, back against the headboard. His fingers have found your head beside him, casting his usual comforting movements.
“Yeah I saw the pictures, Bookkeu’s getting old, his fur looks wild.” He’s snickering, insults laced with affection for his dog that stays with his parents. He continues to very gently pat your resting hair.
“Bad groomer? Are you sure your daughter hasn’t been slacking?”
He speaks to his mother in a low voice, nothing that’s ever woken you before, but you don’t mind that you get to register the low buzz of his conversation paired with the free massage. Helps that he smells like heaven, picking up on his post shower dampness as you nuzzle your face into his waist, registering the oh so familiar scent of his stupidly overpriced body wash.
He’s off the phone now, leaning in closer to whisper to you, “Hi baby, did I wake you?”
You grunt out an incomprehensible noise that’s neither here nor there, too drunk on his scent and the way he’s petting you like a dog. You’re enjoying it too much, but so is he.
Seungkwan only exhales in a laugh, clattering around his bedside table. You don’t try to decide what he’s doing, because you’re half gone already, waiting for the final push into dreamland.
When you wake up, the room is a little brighter from the light that seeps in, Seungkwan’s arms rest beneath your head as a better pillow, and the hand that’s attached rests tangled in your hair.
Right where it’s decided it belongs.
#🎁gyuswhoreturns1!#svthub#seungkwan#seungkwan fluff#svt#svt fluff#seventeen fluff#seungkwan imagines#seungkwan scenarios#seungkwan x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines
258 notes
·
View notes
Text
pov: you’re scarlett johansson’s wife // sfw headcanons
scarlett knows you’re in love with New York and despite having drivers that can easily bring you to one side to another of the city, she knows you prefer taking the subway. you’re favourite is the Q train where you can see the best landscapes as it’s an open train space. your wife always makes sure to pick up a spot by the door, she always says “i want to see that beautiful smile on your face the whole ride” and as you watch the train going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, scarlett wraps an arm around your waist and looks up at you with pure love.
scarlett loves how you adore your county despite its bad sides. you’re here for work so you don’t go back home as much as you would want. the last time was at christmas two years ago with all the family. little pieces of your culture are spread in the house tho, through the food, the flag you hung in your home office, some products you buy at the authentic drug stores owned by people of your home-country. you also started to teach the kids your childhood traditions, your favourite meals, your native language even. sometimes you go out in typical restaurants, or the one that claims to be typical when they’re not, and your wife has to listen you ramble about how they couldn’t make a simple dish of your land and instead ruined it. “can you believe baby? they ruined it, look at this: chicken. why? there’s no chicken in the original recipe and yet i see chicken here, why you americans put chicken everywhere?” scarlett would laugh and sometimes record your little grumbles. the kids loves when you, their mama, cook home land dishes of a culture they’re starting to feel like theirs. your wife loves when your accent rolls off your tongue when you’re tired or pissed, sometimes even when you two fuck roughly; it send her over the edge in no time. however the thing she likes the most is when you speak in your native language giving her or the kids pet names or when you whisper “i love you.”
you’re the biggest supporter ever. the way your eyes shine when you stand beside scarlett at movies premiers, it’s unmatched. you always buzz around your wife when she’s being prepared by make-up and hair-stylists taking extra time to snap some phots of her proudly. you make sure her dress is always perfect and adjust it often during the carpet. you make sure scarlett is always hydrated, not only with alcohol but with water too!, and fed because these things are stressful and your lady has to be healthy. you step back when she poses for paparazzi photos even tho she insists to have you beside her, she would softly place her hand on your chest clothed by the black jacket and shares smiles and little whispers. “you’re so beautiful, baby” or “i can���t take my eyes off you” these are the words that you find to whisper to her in that moments when your eyes are glued to her form, your hand gently cradles her back. you in the end step back giving your wife the deserved moment in the shiny flashes of the photographer’s bulbs, she poses and you look at her, sometimes you would snap a few picture too of her beside the paparazzi. scarlett would peck your lips amidst the event, they reassure you like a warm blanket and she softly pass her slender fingers to wipe her lipstick off your lips. you watch the movie with rapt attention because despite everything, before meeting her, you were and are a fan of her movies. in the end you always hug her and pepper her lips and cheeks whispering “congratulations my love, you were brilliant!”, “i can feel the oscar baby, can i start your campaign now?”, “i’m so incredibly proud of you, you’re a movie star” or “look at that baby, they’re all clapping and cheering for you, you’re so inspiring.” at the after party you both dance, engage in conversation with people and sometimes only seat at the bar together. you make sure to drink only safe drinks and let your wife party as she deserve. you take care of her and by the end of the night she’s not much sober but you steady her holding by her waist, your suit jacket always ready to shield the woman from the cold gently rest on her shoulders and her heels accomodate your feet while she wears you’re much more comfortable shoes.
scarlett started a skin care brand line with her friend and co-founder, kate foster. you, despite not knowing a thing about skin care, started to be supportive since the first day. however you didn’t know your wife would make you be a tester. you forgot how many times you ran around the house to dodge her “c’mon baby let’s try this eye cream, i swear it will be good for your eyes!” or the times she would let you sit on the bathroom sink with a blue argyle mask on your face, a hand band with the brand logo that would definitely make your curls frizzy and messy. you would groan and grumble a lot but your wife is always quick to kiss you. in the end you fell into a routine of doing this pampering ritual every night. slowly you started to learn a lot about skin care and your wife’s work. you also would crash often at her office to just bring donuts and coffee or sneak to spend more time with your wife and the team. and much to your dismay, scarlett will never stop treating you like a tester, she’s already planning on dragging you at the offie to record some funny videos of her putting on your face brand new face creams.
talking about videos, you hate cameras and photos. oh you’re the opposite of your wife in this department. you’re a diplomat, an ambassador specifically, so you barely stand in front of cameras and address speeches, a safe way to do what you love without struggling with the media press. however since you got into a relationship with your wife and got married, you quickly became a target to paparazzi’s cameras. you awkwardly stand beside your wife when you’re taking photos at the event she has to attend, but scarlett is always there to calm you down with soft touches, whispers and little pecks. “it’s okay baby, focus on me, everything’s is alright”. when they catch you in the street you go protective over the kids and wife putting your discomfort aside. “little one it’s okay, look at mama, everything is okay. scarlett, baby, come closer to me. it’s okay”. when you’re alone, you just hide behind a hoodie hood. you rarely talk to the microphones and usually only offer politely smile and shield your anxious eyes.
scarlett never saw you crying in the years you’ve been together and probably she thought she would never. this until your wedding day arrived. oh, boy! the moment you saw her walking down the aisle you started crying for her endlessly beauty and the overwhelming love you have for her. after that you cried again, much harder, when your little girl was born. scarlett loves teasing you a lot about it. you blush rolling your eyes playfully and dismissing her with a groan.
you rarely fight but when you do, and it’s always for silly things, it doesn’t take much to crack the hard shell. one of you crawl in the arms of the other not much more than 1 hour later. you’re an ambassador so your job is to make peace, after toxic experiences in your past relationship, your communication level is high and you’re lucky enough to have found scarlett that is on the same page as yours. scarlett would hold you close and kiss the crown of your head. “i’m so sorry my love, i promise to work better on these things.” you would kiss her knuckles and whisper “i’m sorry too, baby, we’ll work on them together.”
at the end of the day it’s just you and your wife. you softly sway in the gold sunrise painting your skins. scarlett arms wrapped around your neck cradling the glass of wine between her hands while she leans to ghost your lips. your hand on her hip, the other hold your glass of wine close to the chest. you both hum the song that is putted on the background while behind you food cooks on the stove and mixes with the noises of the city. it’s peaceful, it’s a paradise, it’s you and the love of your life in a life that isn’t perfect, but has a glimpse of perfection shared together.
a/n: pt.2? nsfw part?
#lesbian#marvel#mcu#natasha romanoff#romanoffthereal#natasha romanov#the outset#wlw#headcanon#headcannons#scarlett johansson x colin jost#scarlett johansson x you#scarlett johansson x reader#scarlett johansson imagine#scarlett johansson smut#scarlett johansson#scarlett johansson x fem reader#natasha romanoff x fem reader#woman x woman
358 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, so what I’m thinking is that Mike is a BoyFailure™️, he’s probably worked at every single place in town, or at the very least tried. I’m imagining, in his large job pursuit, he had a brief stint working at Sparky’s. This is how he and Ness meet, I imagine at first they start Mike out as a server, so he’s being trained by Ness. Ness, who yes, Mike thinks grudgingly, is kinda cute, if not mostly annoying (the guy never stops talking) and meanwhile, Ness is just enamored with someone who just lets him talk (again, he never really stops.) Over the course, of his training, Mike decides that maybe Ness is a little more cute and funny, than annoying, but decides not to bother even trying anything. He knows he’s a mess, and he has Abby (not to mention, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be a server here for much longer, because as nice as Ness is, Mike cannot seem to pick up an ounce of that when he’s speaking to customers). They eventually do decide, that Mike cannot handle being around customers, and decide to put him in the kitchen, much to everyone else who works at the diner’s chagrin, because at this point, Ness has decided he also thinks that Mike is cute and kinda funny when he lets himself talk to people. A Ness with a crush is loud, flirty, easily flustered, and always in Mike’s space. This means Ness is always in the kitchen, and his service starts to slack, coupling that with the fact that Mike cannot seem to cook anything without starting it on fire (or worse, injuring himself) Sparky’s sadly lets him go. Ness is devastated, as Mike is cagey about personal details, and won’t give out his phone number so he’s sure he’ll never see him again. Because he’s overdramatic, he’s moping around the diner for weeks afterward; then he walks out one day to serve a table. It’s a cute little girl, sitting by herself drawing a picture. Ness is great with kids, and it’s obvious she’s probably waiting for someone in the bathroom, so he strikes up a conversation with her, even making her laugh when lo and behold, who sits down but his long lost love, Mike. At first, Ness is shocked, because surely this means that Mike was kinda shutting him down before because he’s straight, or maybe in a long-term relationship. But still, he bucks up, takes their order and as the two are leaving he tells Mike he makes a pretty cute kid. (Mike and Abby react pretty similarly to this as they did when Vanessa thought they were parent/child) From then on, Abby and Mike end up becoming regulars, and Abby adores Ness. He’s one of the few people she’ll talk to, and once she even draws him a picture of him, she and Mike (Ness and Mike both try to act like this is not a Big Deal, despite Ness framing it in his apartment) Mike and Ness still lowkey flirt, and even exchange phone numbers (for Abby, is Mike’s reasoning, but Ness is so overjoyed he just brushes away the very flimsy excuse) As the events of the movie take place, and with Mike’s new schedule, they’re unable to stop in, and only exchange a few phone calls. (Ness does overhear the conversation with Jan, Max and her brother, he leaves vm, after vm for Mike but he never sees them, and then Jan deletes them when she’s at the house) I also am assuming that the diner is 24hrs, and Ness is one of the few servers, so he’s unable to watch Abby to keep the original plot of the movie progressing the same.
That’s what I got for now!! I’m coming to visit this again and add some more for post-movie development, or maybe write this out as an actual fic!! If someone decides to write this themselves, please feel free to, just credit me and tag me in it so I can read it!! <3
309 notes
·
View notes
Text
casual affection.
엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 700 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read kissing skinship — more
a/n. blank
heeseung
would help you dry your hair after a long day; it’d be the late hours of the night, and he’d stand by the edge of the bed, hairdryer in one hand, brush in another.
makes it a point to kiss you, on the lips, before you two part on your own ways in the early mornings; slips a little playful comment before seeing you off.
would often put an arm around your shoulder, lightly pulling you close to his side with a small smile that almost goes unnoticed.
regularly picks up your favourite snacks on the way home, to the point where the cashier at the convenience store recognises the usual.
jongseong
would learn the lyrics to your all-time favourite songs, so you two can sing them together as an impromptu karaoke session.
holds your hand in almost every situation, finding it comforting to intertwine fingers with you, hands moulding together like perfect puzzle pieces.
cooks two servings when making food, because he doesn’t want you to come home empty-stomached.
keeps an extra hoodie at the backseat of his car, because he knows of your habit of forgetting, and doesn’t want to see you cold on a chilly day.
jaeyun
would change the lyrics of a song, so that it says your name instead; finds your delayed reaction and realisation adorable.
leaves some of your favourite shirts of his aside, and comes up with silly excuses to let you keep them.
brushes stray strands of hair out of your face, and takes the opportunity to leave a peck on, either, your forehead or your lips.
always slips his heat pack in the pocket of your jacket, not wanting you to freeze in the particularly snowy weather.
sunghoon
would be your personal alarm, waking you up to prevent any oversleeping for important events; tells you you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and ruffles your already tousled hair.
helps you put on a necklace; his hands leave feathery touches on your neck, and as he hooks the chain to the clasp, he has the cutest grin plastered on his face.
takes candid pictures of you when you’re in your element, and uses them as his lock screen.
would rub your back when you’re feeling down; additionally, he whispers sweet consolations and peppers your face with kisses.
seonwoo
would help you remove your makeup, and any large hair accessories, when you’re feeling tired from a long day; does so without any hesitation, despite being fatigued himself.
offers his shoulder for you to rest your head on; soft conversations as he gently caresses your palm, fiddling with your fingers.
draws a bath for you, and even prepares your favourite playlists.
gives you handmade gifts, even without a specific occasion; dedicates a good hour or two to folding origami pieces, and making cards.
jungwon
would send you heaps of pictures of his dog whenever you’re away, hoping that they’d serve as an energy boost for tiring days.
brings around a polaroid camera nearly everywhere he goes, because he loves snapping pictures of you; keeps his personal favourites at the back of his phone.
buys you flowers when you least expect it; always writes a short and sweet note with each ‘flower delivery’, something quirky like ‘if you were a flower, i would pick you, one thousand (and one) percent!’
a hand is always absentmindedly resting on your lower back, because he just likes being by your side.
riki
would tuck your blanket neatly around your body when it slides down, and press a kiss on your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams.
hypes you up for even the small things, and is there 24/7 to support you; movie marathons and late-night talks under the covers afterwards to hear how things went.
lightly bumps your shoulder whenever you say something funny; it soon escalates to chaotic, yet unified, cackling and wheezing (but it’s so oddly comforting).
buries his face into the crook of your neck when hugging.
taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels
#૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ?#kflixnet#enhanet#k labels#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen drabbles#enhypen reactions#enhypen headcanons#enhypen soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#enha fluff#enha scenarios#enha imagines#enha drabble#enha headcanons#enha reactions#enha soft hours#enha soft thoughts#heeseung fluff#jay fluff#jongseong fluff#jake fluff#jaeyun fluff#sunghoon fluff#sunoo fluff#jungwon fluff#riki fluff#niki fluff
700 notes
·
View notes
Note
Heyy are you still taking requests??
If so can I please have a Steve Harrington x Sinclair!reader blubber or one shot please. The idea is that this takes place like around season three (or just awhile after Steve and Nancy’s breakup) and Steve and Reader have been getting closer because of all of the events that were going on in the show. And reader realizes that she has been falling for him but the problem is that she’s close friends with Nancy but feels weird for liking her ex. But like Nancy pretty much hints to her that it’s fine and whatever.
Love you work thank you 🫶🏾💜
hi love! thank you for the request & sorry abt the wait! but i hope you enjoy! <3
wc: 3.7k
What is one supposed to do when they just so happen to fall for their ex-girlfriend's best friend? It was a daunting question that rattled around Steve's mind with harsh clangs, making him toss and turn in bed when he tried to sleep. The poor thing even resorted to counting sheep when the only thing he could see behind his closed eyes was your pretty face that made him so pitifully nervous.
Liking you was troubling. It was divine and dreadful all at once.
The divine. Steve could easily recall the first time he met you like it was his favorite scene of his favorite movie.
Billy's 1979 Camaro made a loud screech when he drove up to the Byers' home unwelcomed. He brought mayhem as he searched for Max, unhesitat to torment your little brother Lucas in the process. You were fearless when giving Billy a piece of your mind, calling him all kinds of inglorious names and jabbing your finger at him when he sneered at you with that Hargrove smirk you despised.
Though you were undoubtedly no damsel in distress, clearly knowing how to stand your ground, Steve had unfaltering determination as he went to defend you and your sibling. He threw the first punch at him, knowing that Billy wasn't the kind of person that responded well to empty threats.
Unfortunately, that was his last lucid memory from that night.
Steve would (reluctantly) admit that he didn't end that brawl unscathed, but his heart certainly grew a couple sizes for you when you tended to his wounds soon after. Gentle with his cuts and bruises, you'd shyly smile and mumble little apologies when he'd hiss and flinch.
Steve had already known of you and seen you around school, sure, but this was his first time truly in your presence.
There was something so calming and warm about it.
But one thing that Steve wanted etched on his mind forever, was the Snowball of '84.
The blue glittery dress you wore adorned your figure perfectly, hair framing the beautiful picture of your face. You were there as a volunteer, chaperoning the middle schoolers but Lucas but in particular, as you grew fiercely protective over him after uncovering the deep secrets of Hawkins.
Steve was practically drooling as he gazed at you from his car, no longer able to focus on whatever it was Dustin had been rambling about. Handing out cups of punch to kids in line, your smile was bright and glittering while you shared a conversation. With Nancy.
The dreadful. It was your relationship with her that spared you of Steve's magnetic charm. Other than his newfound shyness, of course.
Nancy and you were two peas in a pod, rarely ever being seen without the other, especially when Lucas and Mike became friends. The two of you were always on study dates, had each other on speed dial, and even had friendship bracelets with the other's initials donned on your wrists. She was more than a best friend to you. More like a sister, you thought.
But Steve couldn't help himself from lingering a bit after he would drive Lucas home from whatever nerdy activity he needed a ride back from. The tenderhearted boy was beautifully uncreative in his efforts to get your attention, as he used any and every tactic imaginable.
He'd ask you about the book you were nose-deep in, though he knew damn well the title would soon be forgotten once the conversation was over. He'd tell you about his favorite shows and movies when he caught you in the living room struggling to find something to watch. He even offered to teach how to drive when you casually mentioned something about getting your license.
Soon enough, shy waves and awkward small talk turned into late nights listening to Fleetwood Mac and intense game nights of Monopoly and Scrabble.
Steve didn't win at Scrabble too often. He kept trying to play words that simply just didn't exist.
It was June of 1985 and school had been out for the past couple weeks. Scoops Ahoy, a new ice cream joint that Erica was adamant to drag you to at least three times a week, became your new favorite place when you saw Steve behind the counter.
"Nice outfit, Harrington," you giggled, and though he knew you weren't really making fun of him, Steve blushed away, eyes shifty. You often left a little tip in the jar when you'd leave, thanking Steve for his hospitality and influx of free ice cream samples.
Today was different, though. Steve was unable to ignore the disappointment that overwhelmed him when your little sister had shown up without you. He nodded his head at her as she neared the counter, "Where's your sister?"
Erica cocked an eyebrow, hand dropping down onto her hip. "I'm sorry, do I look like her keeper? I'm just here for my usual, sailor man." Steve fixed his gaze on the blue and white clock on the wall that's arms pointed to read 12:17. Usually you were here to collect your fair share of free dessert too, but it was nearly rush hour and your favorite flavor was running low.
"Well no, but she's your keeper and I'm just a little curious, is all," he corrected, spooning a hearty serving of peanut butter chocolate swirl onto a cone. She tapped her foot impatiently, waving her hand to suggest that she wanted a second helping. If you want information, it comes with a price. His eyes were squinted at her before he rolled them, giving in to her wishes.
"Here, that's all you're getting. Now spill."
Her smile was wide when she took the cone from Steve's hand, finally satisfied. "You really need to work on your customer service skills," she pointed, a look of disapproval weighing on her face when she turned to look at Steve.
"She's at home. I think. I don't know, I haven't been there in a few hours. She could be in another country for all I know," she paused to take an obnoxious lick, "Pleasure doing business with ya', sailor man!"
Steve watched as she skipped back to her busy swarm of friends whose cackles and squeals could be heard from worlds away. He looked down at the array of ice cream in front of him, frowning at the puny supply of your favorite. Grabbing a to-go cup from under the counter, Steve garnered as much as he could of the dessert, some of it spilling over when he covered it with a plastic lid.
Robin peered over his shoulder as he scribbled something on it with a permanent marker, though she wasn't able to decipher Steve's dodgy handwriting.
"I'm going on break, cover the front for me," Steve announced, making his way out of the parlor. His stride was hasty and confident.
In the distance, he could hear the smirk in Robin's voice, "Tell her I said hi!"
﹏𓊝﹏
2550 Maple Street. Steve rolled slowly past the creaky mailbox that read 'The Sinclair's', careful not to drive over the yellow tulips by the driveway that your mother spent all spring gardening. They were coming along really nicely.
Every once in a while, Steve would ask to help her with all the weeding and trimming and other maintenance that she often called a headache. Never in a million years did Steve think he'd be so avid for a girl and her family's approval that he'd become a part time florist, but here he was.
Surveying himself in the rearview mirror, Steve plucked off the silly sailor hat that crowned his head with a huff before aimlessly tossing it, getting it as far from his self-proclaimed best feature as possible. His fingers busily shoveled through his thick tresses, searching for the perfect marriage of tousled and tamed.
To say Steve was a bit on edge was a terrible understatement. The feeling of his stomach pulling into a tight knot at the mere thought of you was something so foreign to him. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time, especially not since he'd been with Nancy. It was refreshing but damn stressful.
But you were well worth the stress and queasy stomachs.
Steve hurriedly dusted himself off, wishing he had enough time to drive to his house to change into a less ridiculous outfit. He just wanted to look his best for you.
Approaching your dark green painted abode, mumbled words of encouragement poured out of Steve's lips. He spoke with his hands and made little faces, and he had no doubt that he looked like a crazy person to your neighbors that walked by.
His fist somewhat stalled when he raised it to the wooden door, his little pep talk had only done so much to boost his confidence. But it was too late to turn back now, he thought. He left three knocks to the door anyway, figuring that he already made it this far.
With his gaze set on his shifty feet that stood on the tawny welcome mat, his heart felt sharp against his ribs when the door abruptly swung open. "Steve?"
He looked up with wide eyes only to find your younger brother, eyebrows pulled together. He had the landline clutched close to his chest, seemingly on the phone with someone.
"Sinclair! Just the person I was looking for," he watched as Lucas' fingers twisted at the lock of the gold door knob idly. The cozy smell of breakfast wafted towards Steve. "Sort of," Steve added, shrugging.
"What's goin' on?" Lucas blinked at him in anticipation.
"Nothing much. Just lookin' for your sister," he said, tapping his finger on the bowl in his hand. He squinted at the sky, peeved, cursing the searing heat of the sun. That ice cream was melting like an ice cube in a desert. And his sweaty palms surely weren't helping its case.
Lucas scanned the yard, finding that Erica's bike was missing. From what he could remember, he heard her yapping something about hanging out at the mall, however many hours ago.
"She's probably at Starcourt terrorizing the world like usual, you might wanna look there," he pointed with his thumb. Steve could hear an irked voice spouting from the phone, wondering where Lucas had gone. Max, he assumed.
He chuckled, leaning against the door frame, "Yeah, you’re not wrong." Though Erica didn't particularly struggle to ruffle up people's feathers, Steve was actually growing to find the charm in her temperament. He even caught himself fighting to cage his laugh at her snarky comments more often than not. Hanging around her so much will do that to you.
"But your older sister, I mean. She here?"
Lucas gestured upstairs to your room, stepping aside to make way for Steve. Mumbling a thanks, he abandoned his sneakers by the door, per your mother's usual request, and trekked up the staircase— butterflies reckless in his stomach.
You tried your hardest to maintain your composure as you listened to the slow thuds of approaching footsteps. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to know it was Steve. Not only could you pick out his voice in a crowd of countless people, but from your window, you spied his parked maroon BMW in the driveway. It was hopeless to try biting back the smile that crept up when you heard he was there to see you.
The bedroom door wasn't closed but Steve knocked anyway, calling out for you in a soft tone. Heat rushed to your chest and ears at the sound of your name falling from his pink, plush lips that you so badly wanted to kiss.
It was romantic thoughts like those of Steve that spread guilt through you like venom, knowing that he was Nancy's ex after all. It had been your shoulder that she cried on when her relationship with him ended, and you easily felt like the worst friend imaginable when you found yourself falling for him.
You managed to keep your bond with him strictly platonic, but boy was it difficult.
"Steve?" He smiled when you peered around the door, features posing a coy smile of your own. His hand shyly waved at you while the other stayed tucked behind his back, "Hey, you." He shuffled into your room, appreciating the way your shaggy rug felt delicate and feathery on his aching feet that he'd been standing on for too many hours.
Your bed squeaked when he sat in the space next to your abundance of stuffed animals that Steve liked to call the "wardens" of your bed. It was so adorable to him how gingerly you took care of them– even murmuring a little apology when you bumped into one by accident.
He let out a soft laugh when he glanced at you, mindful to not stare at you, though that's all he really wanted to do, "You still in your pjs?"
Nothing but tight shorts hidden beneath a baggy band shirt draped your body. While Steve thought you looked utterly perfect, you suddenly felt awfully naked.
Shaking off the fuzzy warmth that rushed over you, you scoffed, crossing playfully defensive arms over your chest. “You should be the last person talking about outfits," your eyes scanned his tall, slender frame.
Steve's jaw fell open, theatrically appalled at your quip.
“Oh, don't act like you don't love me in this outfit, princess,” he smirked. The nickname made your nerves all fiery and tingly. "I see the way you stare at my legs when I'm in these shorts. My eyes are up here, FYI."
With your head falling back, an echoing giggle escaped you. It's a laugh so pretty and sugary, it could sweeten even the most sour lemon.
Steve couldn't ward off the reddening of his cheeks.
"In your dreams, Harrington," you replied, plopping yourself in the chair by your vanity. You distracted yourself from Steve's teasing with tidying the clutter that obscured the desk. The nerves you felt would only further ignite if you kept looking into his warm eyes.
"Well, despite the minor insult to my uniform, which I'm not gonna take personally," he beamed, finally revealing what he had hidden behind his back, "I got somethin' for ya." His teeth trapped his bottom lip in its constraints, eyes wide with anticipation as you inspected your little present.
The cup was wet with condensation and leaking melted ice cream but underneath it all read, "something sweet for a sweet girl :)".
And just like the ice cream, you melted.
"Steveee," you gushed, licking off the dessert that dripped onto your fingers that were growing frigid. "You came over just to bring me ice cream?" The smile you wore was glittering and well worth the effort.
Steve was all mumbly and shy when he responded, "Well, I know it's your favorite and that was the last of it, so," he shrugged before he could give himself the chance to ramble.
You wrestled the urge to swoon. How could one person be so adorable? And why did that one person have to be your friend's ex?
"Well, that's very kind, Stevie. Thanks," you beamed.
"'S no problem," he shrugged with a shy smile, taking a glimpse of his watch.
He had a mere twelve minutes to get back to work on time. "Shit, I gotta get back before Robin kills me, but I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Later, Steve."
Rising from your bed, he made his way to your door. His footsteps were slow and hesitant, as he seemed to have something on his mind. You were following behind him when he spun around suddenly, your bodies nearly colliding. "Actually, there's somethin' I wanted to ask you," his eyes were squeezed shut while he pointed as he spoke.
His face was flushed and his feet tapped at the wooden floor rapidly. You don't recall ever seeing Steve so nervous. "Yeah?"
"There's some house party tonight that I was, uh, thinking about going to. I was, you know, hoping that maybe, you'd wanna go with me? Like a date?"
Your mouth was open but sentences, words, really any sound at all, failed to come out. The boy you'd been crushing on for weeks that felt more like years, had finally asked you out. And you had no choice but to say no.
Your silence was deafening. "Or maybe we could go to that carnival? I could win you another warden for your bed," he laughed.
"I'd really like that, Steve, honestly, but–"
"Nancy," he finished, eyes diverting to his feet. His fluffy brunette hair blocked your view of his face. It wasn't fun seeing Steve who you're so used to joking with look so down.
"I could, maybe, talk to her?" Your tone was quiet, but hopeful.
"Are you sure? I don't wanna come in between you guys."
"Don't worry about that, her and I will be fine," your smile was confident but deep down you weren't as optimistic as you let on. Nancy and you made a promise to each other to never let anything like secrets or dumb boys ruin your relationship. But, here you were. "Now, go, your break is almost up."
"Okay," he grinned, "I'll see you tonight?"
Nodding, you waved him goodbye, watching him retreat downstairs. Your back leaned against your door when you closed it, before you looked over at your soupy ice cream, defeated.
How could you choose between your best friend and the boy you were crushing on? It shouldn't even be a question, really. The guilt was already gnawing at you mercilessly.
﹏𓊝﹏
The cards you held were sticky on your clammy palms. The echoes of your talk with Steve just a few hours prior were intrusive and blaring. Taking a sip of whatever was in your red solo cup, you tried to drown out the roaring voices of the people at the party, along with the thumping music that numbed your ears.
Your leg was impatient and desperate as it shook up and down, doing its best to repel the anxiety that bit at you. It certainly didn't help that Nancy was sitting right next to you, oblivious to the stolen glances and sneaky smiles you and Steve were exchanging all night.
Rubbing your stomach that felt queasy and pulled into a knot, you hadn't noticed that it was your turn to play. You weren't entirely sure you even remembered the name of the game you found yourself in.
"Hey, are you alright?" Nancy's hand fell onto your thigh, running a comforting thumb across your skin. Her blue doe eyes searched your face, though she's known you long enough to already know that you were far from 'alright'.
"Yeah, why?" Your lips were pulled into a tight smile, trying and inevitably failing to give your best impression of a genuine grin. And of course, Nancy sees the way you aren't seeing her. When you mindlessly played a random card, your eyes were fidgety and unfocused– a clear sign that you were frenzied.
"Cause you look like you're about to throw up," her eyebrows were pulled together in concern as she continued to probe, "Seriously, what's wrong?"
A dreary sigh escaped you as you cursed yourself for not being as discreet as you hoped to be. You should've know that someone you considered your sister would be able to see right through you like glass.
"It's just," you hesitated. It was now or never. "Just-"
"Steve?" Her voice lowered when she said his name, noticing the way your face shifted and became an odd mixture of relieved and confused. Your head snapped in her direction, finally meeting her gaze for the first time that night, it felt like.
The thrashing of your heart almost made your chest ache, as you appeared to be caught in some kind of lie. You didn't tell a lie, really, but you certainly didn't feel like a noble friend.
Studying her face, you scoured to find any hint that she was about to start tearing into you, calling you every wretched name in the book. Honestly, you wouldn't blame her if she did. But there was a subtle smirk on her face. A stark difference in the expression you imagined she'd be wearing upon finding out about your little puppy crush on Steve.
"How'd you know?"
"I mean, it's no secret you guys have been hanging out lately," she laughed a bit, taking your hand in hers, "and I see the way you look at him. It's the same way I used to look at him."
Words completely escaped you. Your eyes and mouth were agape, in awe of Nancy's poise. It was one of the things about her that you deeply admired. "Nancy..."
She squeezed your hand, shaking her head, "No, it's okay. I was the one who broke up with him," she glanced over to where he stood in the kitchen, downing his drink before disappearing into the backyard. "Besides, I'm with Johnathan now and I'm happy."
You exchanged smiles as your nerves became the calmest they'd been in hours. "If Steve makes you happy, I'm not gonna get in your way. He's a great guy and I think you guys would be really good for each other."
Throwing yourself into her for a hug, you practically crushed her as words of gratitude spilled out of you. It was unbelievable how lucky you were to have someone like her. "You're the best, Nance." She shrugged as if it was nothing, a bright look on her face.
"Now go get him, I'll watch your drink."
Ignoring the protests from the others who were still in the game as you walked away, you dodged dancing and mingling party guests.
The backyard was a lot less crowded, thankfully, allowing you to easily spot Steve sitting in a hammock, tapping his fingers on a freshly opened beer bottle.
He wore light blue jeans and a yellow crew neck sweater, looking as good as ever. You couldn't believe that he was going to be completely and openly yours.
"Hey, Harrington," you basically skipped over to him, slipping into the space next to him. Your legs touched and you don't feel any guilt or urge to move away from him. It was so refreshing. "So, how 'bout that date?"
The smile Steve wore was well worth the stress and queasy stomachs.
💌 1 new message from jojo: finally on summer break!! my inbox is open as always! feel free to pop in for a chat <3
#jojo’s requests ☁️#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x black!reader#steve harrington x sinclair!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington imagine#joe keery
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whumptober 2023: 9
No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”
Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”
A Polaroid picture of you at practice is slipped under your door. You’re confused, but it’s a cute picture so you just prop it against the lamp on the desk. It was probably just the media team’s doing.
You forget about the event until a few days later, when you find another picture. This one is sitting in your locker, a closeup of you when the team had gone out to dinner the other night.
“Does anyone know what the media team’s been working on?” You ask your teammates, “they’ve been leaving me hints but I can’t figure it out.”
None of your teammates know, so you leave it alone.
The pictures stop, for a while, after that. You don’t get anymore until the next month, when you’re back at camp. This was a picture of you in the locker room, and it was left propped on your seat in the bus.
This wasn’t funny anymore.
“Alright, who’s been pranking me?” you’re met with silence, “seriously, guys, I’m sick of it. Em? Kel?”
Both women shake their heads. You believe them.
“Whatever, just- whoever it is- stop it. It’s not funny anymore.”
—-
The pictures didn’t stop. Instead, they grow in frequency- appearing daily now. In the meal room, on the bench before a game, shoved into your locker. You were finding them everywhere and your annoyance at your teammates grew.
The team had gathered to review game footage, Coach working on connecting the video on the laptop to the projector. After a technologically challenged struggle, the laptop’s background is projected. Coach clicks into the media player and the whole team is met with a single photo. You, asleep in your bed, X’s drawn over your eyes.
This sends the room into a shocked silence. Coach is mad that someone messed with the media equipment, beginning to lecture the team on respecting property.
But that picture isn't recent, not like the others. Usually, the pictures are from camp the day before. This one was different.
This one was older. This one was taken in your home, in your bedroom.
—-
After a long conversation with the team, it’s clear to everyone that something bad is happening. A frustrating call to the police follows. Apparently, because you were a recognizable figure and posted regularly on social media, you should be okay with this happening. Apparently, you should appreciate the attention.
You were scared. You slept in a teammate's room, refusing to go anywhere without a group. You only left the hotel to go to the pitch, refusing any other activities offered.
And the pictures stopped coming. For almost a week, you hadn’t received anything. In celebration, you got to pick the movie for team bonding that night.
You were walking down the hallway with the other youngsters, heading to where Becky was hosting movie night. She had turned a blind eye on the amount of forbidden snacks being offered around the room, knowing that everyone needed a little comfort.
“I’m just going to stop and grab a blanket,” you say as you pass your door, “you guys go on ahead, I’ll be right there.”
You hadn’t been in your room in about a week, occasionally sending someone in to get something that you needed. But now, after a week, you felt fine stopping in to grab a blanket. Plus, movie night was only three doors down the hall, you would be fine.
You reassured the others to go and tell everyone that you were coming, insisting that you would be fine. Once they had started walking away, you held your keycard against the lock, opening it when the light flashed green. You flipped on the light, looking back at the others to respond to a question that Lindsey had shouted to you.
Taking a step into the room, you finally turn your head to look. You scream.
The room was covered with pictures of you- filling the bed, scattered across the floor, propped up on the nightstand. With a brief glance, you recognized some of them.
One was from your last birthday, zoomed in from a far distance. Another was of you at your last game, one of you through the bus window.
An arm quickly wrapped around your waist, pulling you back and against a strong body.
You screamed again, fighting. Your arms were pinned to your side as you desperately tried to escape. The only thing that brought you out of your flight-or-fight instinct was a family voice shouting your name.
“Y/N- Y/N, you’re okay. You’re okay, you’re safe. Let’s get out of here, come on.”
You fell fully into Lindsey’s arms, sobbing.
#woso x reader#woso imagines#uswnt players#uswnt imagine#uswnt woso#womens soccer#reader insert#woso#woso imagine#uswnt x reader#uswntsoccer#uswnt fanfic#woso soccer#uswnt reader#uswnt imagines
268 notes
·
View notes
Text
Llama, Llama Baby Drama | Wenclair One-Shot for @based7100
Summary: Enid gets an emergency call to babysit on a date night. When Wednesday shows up with intentions of having it anyway, they have a much-needed conversation about their future.
(separate from my established Wenclair universe in CftF or Black Menagerie)
WC: 4,979 (STILL UNDER 5K OKAY)
Rated: All Ages
trigger warning: a baby
Prompted by @based7100, "Wednesday and Enid having the do you want kids talk" as part of my >5k writing (post-taxes) challenge
“Why is it sticky?” Wednesday asked with a grimace as Enid tickled the baby that was perched on her hip. The infant gave a loud squeal of laughter that drew a deeper cringe from Wednesday at the sudden pitch.
“She is sticky because she just ate, and I didn’t want you breaking and entering and setting off the home alarm! You’re lucky I have werewolf hearing, otherwise I would have made you be the one to settle her down.” Enid said with a smile of exasperation, opening the door wider, allowing Wednesday entry to a townhouse. Enid pressed buttons on a keypad when Wednesday came into the doorway of the space with some agitated trepidation. Monsters, serial killers – entering the lair of either would’ve brought her glee, but entering the space of an eight-month-old was like being dropped into a hostile landscape without adequate preparation.
She noted Enid in her stocking feet and untied her boots, staring up at Enid and the little she with unblinking eyes, attempting to assert her dominance in the small person’s home. Enid just rolled her own and gave Wednesday a peck on the cheek as she stood tall again, clutching her backpack strap. Enid looked at the entryway clock and added, “I’m going to get her cleaned up – it’s close enough to time – I’m going to get her in the bath if you wanna just make yourself comfortable! You’re like, forty minutes early, so don’t blame me that you’re bored!” The baby stuck her entire fist into her mouth, gurgling while a trail of saliva slipped her all the way down to her elbow. Again, Wednesday was sure she made a face, unable to help her disgust.
Make yourself comfortable was quite a loaded statement, as Wednesday didn’t have a portable bed of nails handy. She and Enid had their third Saturday night date cancelled in a row; the last minute “emergency” babysitting request coming through from a Normie family she’d made friends with in Jericho (really, Wednesday considered grandma falling down the stairs more of a coming of age event than an emergency) dampening a makeup date from a makeup date. Unable to tolerate three weeks in a row of a Saturday night without her girlfriend, Wednesday had cautiously accepted the invitation to come over after the baby was in bed. The child’s mother had said that was acceptable – and though she feared becoming a 80s movie babysitter cliché of making out on the couch while there was a killer outside, she’d taken the chance as the next week was supposed to be just as busy for the seniors at the end of their school year as they’d all been. (It was unlikely the house had a landline for anyone to ask if Enid had checked on the baby, anyway.)
Enid disappeared with her down the hall, using a different tone in her voice than usual to talk to the baby, who obviously couldn’t comprehend what she was saying regardless of her cadance. Staring after them for a long minute, Wednesday gave a tiny blink and took a look around – finding a stereotypical portrait of a family sitting in a field of leaves with their infant from the fall. The picture-perfect matchy-matchy white, suburban American aesthetic completely draining her before she even properly entered the home.
Exiting the foyer into the living area, she recoiled a touch at the explosion of color and plastic toys. Wishing she’d brought Thing to put him to work, she thought about perching herself on the edge of the wooden rocker in the room, not touching anything when she realized – if she didn’t pick up the toys while Enid was picking up the baby, it would just be that much longer before they’d be able to sit together on the plush loveseat under the window.
Wednesday let out a silent sigh, dropping her shoulders, taking a sharp glance around trying to figure out the organizational method when she realized – there wasn’t one. Unable to tolerate such a disaster, she began sorting the toys into piles, little rubbery blocks with forever chemicals laced into them together, tiny plastic people that probably had lead in the paint, and stuffed animals that had polyurethane filling which would outlive them all.
She found a few collapsible baskets that had never been put together near a stack of unopened mail on a bench, keeping everything separate as she got it off the floor. She rolled up the blankets, then went so far as to wipe down the tabletop when she couldn’t identify the crusty material that was gathered on top, using a deplorable smelling baby wipe.
It seemed like Enid at least hadn’t been forced to make anything for the baby, as there was just a spoon and a little plate in the sink and cleaning off the high chair tray. (Wednesday could handle blood spatter, entrails, and digging through bones, but honestly – the mush and droll were going to push her over the edge.) After putting everything that seemed dirty in the dishwasher, Wednesday followed the sounds of splashing and giggles to the bathroom down the hall.
Enid was on her knees in front of a tub, where the baby was in some sort of special seat. Not sure if she needed to avert her gaze for privacy, Wednesday almost disappeared but Enid shook her head, “You can come in! It’ll be a few minutes. Bailey loves to play in the water!”
Bailey. That was surely, the name of a dog, not a human child. Certainly – not an adult someday who needed to enter the workforce someday.
Avoiding yet another dramatic sigh out her nose, Wednesday hovered, her arms crossed as she stared the child down, who dropped her silly little face full of joy at the leer. Bailey frowned severely, suddenly – and Wednesday took the cue to leave, wandering into the baby’s nursery.
The room was surprisingly neutral, which Wednesday did appreciate with the lack of stereotypical pink. The baby’s crib was simple, and though Wednesday might’ve joked about smothering Enid in her sleep the first day they’d met, she knew that it was important to just keep a fitted sheet on so the baby didn’t manage to do so to themselves. There was a second rocking chair – a glider, in the corner, a small bookshelf, overflowing with titles, a dresser that seemed to be doubling as a changing table, based on the diapering supplies, and a few unopened boxes of toys that she probably wasn’t developmentally prepared to play with stacked in the corner. The walls had simple wooden, cut-out letters that read the girl’s name, and three photos above the dresser of her with the family, a few peel-and-stick bunnies at her eye-level beneath them.
Wednesday squatted down to examine the child’s literature selection, shaking her head in disapproval. How did they expect to raise a well-rounded child if she lacked the classics? There wasn’t a Homer, Miguel de Cervantes, Shakespeare, Stephen King, or even a single Orwellian novel on display. Her own father had been sure to get through all of the works of Poe and War and Peace before Wednesday had even left the womb!
Pulling out a few titles that didn’t sound horrendous, Wednesday shook her head at the modern children’s literature; thinking it was a damn shame that some of the best sellers clearly had no concept of rhythm. What a chore some of the books would be to have to read aloud, a near burden and waste of a tree’s time on earth.
She sat in the glider with a stack, ready to provide Enid with what she hoped would be interpreted as a humorous, critical review of some of the books, when her girlfriend came in with the baby all wrapped up in a towel, cheeks rosy – but significantly cleaner. “Forgive me, baby Bailey – I was so rude not to properly introduce you. This is Wednesday. Don’t mind the glare, that’s her friendly one.”
Wednesday was about to start her joke reception of Brown Bear, Brown Bear but Enid kept talking. She took out a yellow onsie with ducks on it, placing Bailey on her back on the changing pad, giving that same high, fake voice that was just so grating, even from someone she loved. “Okay, sweet baby – let’s get all dry…yeah, we’ll dry your little feet-feet-feet,” The baby kicked and laughed while Enid kept going, rubbing the towel along her. “And your legs-legs-legs,” She shifted into sing-song, “And your belly-belly-belly, and your arms-arms-arms…”
It went on for so long. Wednesday just continued to watch the spectacle, as she started with a disposable diaper and then worked her into the front-zipper pair of baby pajamas. “All done!” She waved her hands in a way that Wednesday knew was sign-language, and the baby copied it. Enid kissed her all over her face, making Baily whirl in happy sounds and Wednesday was sure, she was glowering, unable to help her jealousy – even if it was a baby she was being paid to watch getting Enid’s physical and emotional attention.
Finally, Enid completed the scene, looking at Wednesday with a seriously sort of expression. “We’re almost done. Can you hang in there?” She asked, using nearly the same voice that she had for the baby. Practically growling, she was about to stand up, when Enid developed an evil sort of twinkle in her eye and came forward, depositing Bailey suddenly onto Wednesday’s lap. Thankfully – she had some sort of protective instinct, and her reflexes kicked in before she could let the baby fall backwards. She went to make a snide, argumentative comment, but Enid just wasn’t having it. “Start reading to her, I’ll make her bottle, and we can be done in half the time.”
“Enid – I can’t –!?”
“Read?” She teased sassily, putting her hands on her hips, perching a brow. “Nice try. Here, she loves this one,” She reached down to a paperback (the very feeling of the thin cardboard cover making Wednesday’s skin crawl) with a worried looking farm animal on top.
Before she could protest again, Enid adjusted Bailey more in Wednesday’s lap, putting her back closer to her chest. Bailey looked at Wednesday with as much certainty as she returned, looking like she was about to cry. “Start reading and she’ll totes be fine.”
“Enid, I swear –”
At the empty threat, Enid dashed out of the room and down the hall. Wednesday let out a breath, grumbling, “Llama, Llama, Red Pajama…creative. Endlessly, creative.”
With a sigh, she started to read and Bailey settled at the familiar rhyme. Wednesday followed through, managing to go for the first few pages until she read, “Llama, Llama, red pajama feels alone without his mama. Baby Llama wants a drink…oh, no. No, no, no. This Llama is playing games with his caregiver and she needs to ignore him before she develops horrific behavior cycles that take years to break. Next thing she knows, she’s going to have nine-year-old llama walking in on mama and dada llama fornicating and traumatizing him like Pugsley because they never put an end to his bedtime drama. Oh, llama, drama – I suppose that’s nearly clever.”
Sighing, she flipped through the pages to find that indeed, the mother gave into the child’s tantrum and Wednesday snapped the book shut. Reaching into a stack, she pulled out another title. “Fine, Corduroy. At least Lisa understands that the value of something doesn’t lay necessarily in the perceived perfection of it, but in what it means to the individual. This is a better message for you to internalize.”
With that, she found herself actually gliding the chair back and forth, starting and finishing the story. Bailey yawned and gave a clap at the end, looking up at Wednesday, squeezing her hands open and shut.
Enid gave an amused chuckle from the doorway, shaking a bottle. “It’s right here, sweet girl.” Bailey kicked her little feet and reached her hands for it. Enid gave her the bottle and she held it with one hand, using the other to twirl at her own, light-brown hair as her eyes instinctively went half shut, but turned back to the book. Wednesday tried to hand her over, but Enid winked. “I think you’ve got this. Look, she’s relaxing on you!”
“I don’t like this,” Wednesday grumbled, but didn’t fight it too hard, not wanting to make the baby choke. In general, she wasn’t about to be the good Samaritan to help somebody experiencing that in public, as it seemed like a solid natural consequence, but she didn’t want to be the reason that Enid lost her babysitting gig. (She stubbornly refused to always allow Wednesday to pay for things and insisted on odd jobs around town to make her own money.)
“You’re doing great,” Enid promised, kneeling at her side, putting a hand on Wednesday’s knee. “It’s good to challenge yourself to do things that make you uncomfortable.”
She flickered her gaze down to the hand on her knee, wishing it were elsewhere on her body… “Give me another book,” She demanded as the baby was practically guzzling her bedtime bottle.
With two more selections (far better choices for her interest level of reading aloud to an infant – though she swore, if she ever ended up coming again, she’d bring some proper literature), Wednesday closed the third story up and looked at Enid, who was looking at her with…
…fondness? Desire? She couldn’t quite read the emotion. As the baby finished, Wednesday passed her over to Enid, where she curled instinctively into her neck, holding onto her shoulder with a contented sigh. Watching the sight herself for a long moment, she started to feel a strange discomfort and took the empty bottle, excusing herself as Enid started to pat her back and rock her to sleep.
With simple deduction in the kitchen that the bottle required to be hand-washed, Wednesday completed the task, then found Enid’s phone on counter. Unlocking it and logging into her own account for a food delivery application, she placed an order for a local favorite that was still open at the evening hour, and wrote threatening instructions not to knock or ring the bell. If that baby woke once it was placed in the crib, so help her…
It was hardly ten minutes later that Enid stepped out of the room with a little monitor in her hand, placing it on the end table that had little rubber bumpers on the corners, giving a stretch and a yawn before looking at the stiff-sitting Wednesday fondly.
“Hey,” She greeted, plopping herself down on the loveseat, turning right into her.
“Howdy,” Wednesday spoke in reply. “Is the small gremlin asleep?”
Rolling her eyes again, Enid put a hand on Wednesday’s cheek, turning it towards her to press a long, sweet kiss on her lips. “She’s out. Thanks to your help. I appreciate it.”
“I have been told I have a soothing reading voice,” Wednesday spoke of herself, squaring her shoulders a little bit. “I would still prefer to have been at the steakhouse and then stargazing in the cemetery with you, though.”
“I know,” Enid wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. I’d usually say no to a same day request – but nana in the E.R. is a pretty valid reason. Imagine poor Bailey stuck there with them all night? She’d have been miserable.”
“You seem to do a good job at keeping her happy. I claim she’s still sticky, though.”
“Wednesday, she’s a baby,” Enid gave a tired chuckle, leaning back on the couch, intertwining their hands. “Thank you for being willing to even come over. I thought you might give me the silent treatment tonight.”
“I considered it,” She said honestly. “But…with time fleeting from us so quickly these days, only a month left until graduation – it seems prudent to spend as much time together as we possibly can, even if it includes minors.”
“Hopefully it’s a one-time thing. I told Bailey’s mama when I got here, I think that emergencies-pending, I’m tapping out for the rest of the year. There’s way too much fun left to be had and I don’t want to regret missing out for cash.”
“As I have repeatedly insisted, it is unnecessary. But I understand the desire to be productive and contribute to capitalism in your own way. I do hope you told her, she’s not allowed to have any emergencies next weekend.”
Giving almost a purr of a sound, Enid traced Wednesday’s jaw. “Not when I’ve convinced you to be my date to the Dark Prom.”
“As if I’d let you go alone,” Wednesday let out a little breath through her nose. “I’ve ordered dinner, so we can still have a touch of our date tonight as well.”
“Thank you,” Enid said quietly, kissing her again. “Hey…while we wait for that…let’s chat, since the topic is indirectly here, anyway.”
At the sound of sincere need for a challenging conversation, Wednesday’s defenses immediately went up. “Or I could pull you onto my lap and have you put your tongue in my mouth.”
“Well, I’m going to do that, anyway,” Enid giggled, straddling her to prove the point, giving her a long kiss. Thinking she was off the hook, Wednesday went to slide her hands along her back, just above her hot-pink pants, when Enid caught them and brought them together near her chest, pushing a kiss to her fingers. “We should talk.”
“We should keep doing that.”
“I’m serious,” Enid said quietly. “Look, I love you, so much. But – you’ve been very clever and used incredible evasive tactics each time we’ve tried to have a chat on any sort of serious front like the one that we really need to.”
Feeling trapped, Wednesday’s heartrate doubled in speed and she had to exercise every molecule of self-restraint she had not to shove her girlfriend to escape the situation. “I know, you’re not afraid of anything, but the future…it’s nerve wracking to think about. And, unfortunately – it’s really only a month away. I love you. I know that I love you, and I know that you love me, too. But we do need to start talking about what we want in life beyond just that we love each other. For your mom and dad, it was so easy – as they graduated Nevermore, they just ran off on trips and quests and got married and had more fun than they knew what to do with. We already know that our lives are going to be different than that. So…I just want to talk about that, a little bit – before we makeout anymore, okay?”
“Enid…” Wednesday tried to avoid her gaze. “I didn’t come over her to make things difficult, I thought since you would put the baby to sleep by seven-thirty, we could just spend time together-”
“We are. We will. But…Wednesday – do you want to have babies with me someday?”
Feeling like the springs in the couch cushions had just given out, popped her off and through the roof – Wednesday knew the color drained right out of her face, her eyes glazed over and when no words could form in her throat –
“Hey, hey…” Enid put her hands on her cheeks, snapping her awareness back. She pushed a sweet kiss to Wednesday’s lips and tilted her head. “Stay with me. I think that I’ve got my answer.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Wednesday responded with far more hostility than she needed to.
“Okay, okay…” Enid lifted her hands up in defense and sighed. “I’m sorry. That was so not a good way to lay that out there. But I’ve been trying to ask you more direct questions for months and you always avoid them, Wednesday. It’s frustrating! I want to plan for the future, and I want a future with you. I just want to know what that means.”
Wednesday swallowed thickly, trying not to feel overwhelmed and guilty. Her pulse was throbbing in her ears, her palms were sweaty –
“I told my mother that I would never be like her. I would never be a housewife, or a mother.”
There was a flicker on Enid’s face. Barely there, but obvious to the girl who knew her the most, who knew her the best, who loved her more than she’d ever thought possible.
“I mean, we’d be working, no doubt,” Enid said through a bubble of barely concealed emotion. “I can’t see you ever just wanting to sit about at home, and even if you were, you’d be writing or composing music or solving contracted murder cases, for sure…”
Cutting off her ramble as guilt was the next emotion that she started to experience, Wednesday hated how her harsh could snap out Enid’s light so quickly, even when she tried to hide it. “I…didn’t mean…Enid, when you just throw these things at me, I’m bound not to have an eloquent speech planned.”
“Well,” Enid shrugged, biting her lip. “We’ve talked about being married. That it might be possible for us. Just know – I’m open to having a family with you. Whether that’s us and a disembodied hand and a one-eyed cat, or us and a little…human-person, you know, I’m open to it. Just so you know.”
Getting a little lost in her comment, Wednesday popped a questioning brow. “Why would the cat only have one eye?”
Enid recoiled a little. “You seriously think you’d have a normal pet? Be real, Wednesday. The one-eyed cat would be a sign that he’s a street fighter. That’s way more your style than a cuddly, perfect Persian.”
Wanting to acknowledge the other part of Enid’s sentence, she found words locked in her throat again. She gave a shrug and balled her hands into fists at either side of Enid’s ankles on the couch.
“We know we have the next four years together, so like – this isn’t a convo that has to happen right now, I guess. I’ve just…read, that the longer a couple takes to talk about their wants and desires for the future, the more challenging it is if those things are different from one another. I don’t want things to be challenging with you. I love you. And I want to know – your wants, so that…I can prepare myself for making them happen.”
She leaned forward and initiated a kiss and Wednesday immediately felt her heart rate drop. After letting it go on long enough that her hair was a little messy in the back from Wednesday’s wandering hands, Enid pulled away with a wink, wanting to check the baby monitor. “Oh, she’s out. I had her outside until just before she needed dinner. The fresh air always does that.”
Just as Wednesday was about to try and tug her in for more affection, an alert on Enid’s phone indicated that the food had arrived. She deactivated and reset the alarm after securing it in her hands. “It’s no steak, but carne asada will totally do instead of whatever frozen post-partum diet food Bailey’s mama has in the freezer. Ick.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “A mother feeling pressure to return to her pre-pregnancy size is such a horrific societal pressure that needs to be popped.”
Enid brought them plates and forks, giving an approving sigh. “I know, right? Like – you just grew a whole-ass human! Give yourself a minute, mama – you just performed a miracle, and you should appreciate your body.”
Biting back a comment befitting her father of appreciating Enid’s body, Wednesday thanked her for the dinnerware and served them, listening to Enid blather about how excited she was for the following weekend and all the songs she hoped the DJ would play, singing a few dramatically to remind Wednesday of how they went (as if she could forget the earworms).
After taking care of the dishes and putting the leftovers in the fridge, Wednesday knelt in front of Enid as she flipped through a streaming app, knowing it would be some time before she landed on something for them to watch.
When she put her hands on Enid’s knees, the same way that Enid had done when she was rocking the baby, Wednesday locked eyes on hers. Enid dropped the remote. “You okay?” She asked in a serious, worried way, rubbing her shoulder.
Nodding, Wednesday let out a breath through her nose and shrugged. “I’m open…to whatever feels right for us.”
Enid lowered her hand from her shoulder to take Wednesday’s both in hers. “You don’t have to say that just because I said it first,” She promised. “I meant it as in, there’s no pressure, like - one way or the other. I’m serious. I just want a life with you.”
“What if we found a two eyed cat…and a one-eyed child at the same time?”
Blinking, Enid smirked. “I’m not sure what circumstances would lead to that, but of course. I don’t care how many eyes a kid has. If it feels like they’re part of our family, of course they should join it!”
Wednesday gave a curt nod, finding the words that had been locked away. “I don’t know that I’d ever want to carry a child. Physically, I mean – in utero. It seems like a distressing invasion of my personal space that I’m not sure I would ever recover from, and not due to societal standards of looking a certain, outward way afterwards.”
Enid’s eyes grew a watery sheen to them. “Of course, Wednesday. We’d never put you through something that made you uncomfortable that way. I’m, ugh,” She groaned. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by practically forcing you to hold baby Bailey earlier. That was wrong, I’m s-”
“That was an okay sort of discomfort,” Wednesday promised. She’d very much survived that moment. “It’s good to prove to myself that I can be gentle sometimes. But…maybe – if we don’t happen upon any orphans with limb differences who need space in our home, and you feel that you would like to carry a child and technology advances in such a way that it is possible for them to share our genetic makeup and we have space and have open hearts and we decide it’s what’s best for us and our family in our situation -”
Enid cut off her near-breathless ramble with a very sweet kiss. “I love you. I love this. Keeping our hearts open. That’s all I wanted to know, Wednesday.” She beamed at her. “You did a great job with Bailey, tonight.”
“You’re the natural. I would likely have a large learning curve.”
Enid raised a brow. “I’m not so sure. I think if it was a child of your own, not one already on a firm schedule and routine, you’d be quite instinctive. What aren’t you good at Wednesday?”
“Engaging in conversations and expressing my feelings,” She muttered as she proved that very point that night.
“Well, it’s not your strength, but both are totally mine, so – that’s where you lean on me, because I’m your partner, who loves you. And,” She kissed her again. “I appreciate you, coming out here tonight, just to spend this time with me like we’d planned. And having this tough talk. I love you. Come put your butt on this couch so I can sit on you and kiss you again.”
Not needing to be told twice, Wednesday took that direction very well, enjoying about twenty minutes of heated kisses, heavy petting and almost a little bit more when a fussing sound came from the monitor.
Enid groaned as she pulled away. “Right now, my heart is so not open to this,” She giggled.
Wednesday smirked, following her, having an idea as they moved to the nursery. Bailey was crying, mostly asleep, but wanting…something.
“I’ll change her real quick,” Enid whispered, nodding, “That bedtime bottle will run right through a baby.”
As Bailey whined and grumbled when Enid made to lay her back down in the crib, letting out a loud cry that made Wednesday wince, she shook her head, reaching her arms out. “I’ll talk to her.”
With an amused smirk, Enid passed her over and Wednesday sat back in the gliding chair, holding her awkwardly in front of her, explaining to the baby, who stopped, staring at her with exhausted eyes, “You’re fine. You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re full. You’re dry. You have everything you need, except about ten more hours of sleep. So, I’m going to rock you, and in five minutes, I’m putting you back in the crib, and you’re going to sleep. Do you understand?”
It was as if the baby said ‘yes’ when she gave a coo, reaching forward. Wednesday gave a curt nod. “That’s the rule. Five minutes of rocking, then back to bed.”
With the firm expectation set, she brought Bailey up to her shoulder the way she’d seen Enid do earlier. She snuggled right in, surprisingly – and thankfully – she wasn’t overtly sticky or snotty, as Enid had wiped her face pretty well after changing her. Gliding back and forth and patting her back, Wednesday thought that perhaps – if she had a beautifully haunting Russian composition playing softly in the background, it would help her stay asleep – adding that to her mental toolbox of notes in case the situation ever arose for her to develop a routine with a baby…
As she expected, once she’d put her foot down with the rule, Bailey knocked out on her shoulder. Enid whispered and motioned for how to transfer her into the crib, and as she did so, onto her back, Wednesday almost smiled at their tag-team success.
Back in the hallway, Enid winked and gave her a kiss. “You are a natural, Wednesday. You just do things in your own way. Now come here,” She gripped her collar, making Wednesday flush. “I’m about to have my own way with you.”
#wednesday 2022#fanfic#oneshot#wenclair#author hates babies#thank you for the prompt this was so easy to write I did half of it on my prep period today lol#also fuck llama llama so hard#he's banned in my classroom as is Pete the damn Cat and Skippy Jon Jones#layla's >5k challenge
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 | 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑
pairing: tara carpenter x reader
summary: you’re in a franchise now
warnings: descriptions of violence, swearing, scream vi spoilers, bad writing
word count: 4.6k
a/n: i didn’t really know how to end this but i tried my best. i also added a few references to the older scream movies, so see if you can spot them :)
scream masterlist | prev. part | next part
002. he’s back (man behind the mask) - alice cooper
‘he’s back, the man behind the mask.’
You stood in shock. Eyes focused on the backdoor of the store, swinging backwards and forwards. Not quite believing ghostface was in there with you, Tara and Sam.
“It’s happening again.” Tara trembled against your side.
“Hey, hey, hey,” you repeated, turning to face the younger Carpenter, “you're okay.”
“But-”
“Don't do that. You're okay.” You said softly, rubbing your hands up and down her arms.
You kept your gaze on Tara, watching as she processed what just happened. Pulling her against you, she rested her head on your chest.
You placed your chin on the top of her head, looking over at Sam, a tint of worry and fear glistening in your eyes.
The three of you were quickly ushered into a cop car, each of you sitting in the back with Tara in the middle, trying to get as close to you as she could.
The journey to the police station was quiet, the dull noise of the radio breaking the silence. You had your head resting against the window, a million thoughts running around in your mind.
You couldn't help it but your mind kept going back to the call you had gotten from ghostface. What did they mean by they wanted to see you suffer? Was it you they wanted to kill? Or was it someone else?
And most important of all. How did they know your secret?
All whilst those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind, Tara leaned her head on your shoulder. Your fingers gently brushed over her knuckles before tracing the scar on her hand, only stopping when the car came to a halt at the station.
The three of you were let out of the back of the cop car and led into a room where pictures of the crime scene littered over the table. You sat to Tara’s left whilst Sam sat to her right, each of you tired after the events in the store.
You were just about to start a conversation when Detective Bailey walked in the room. He sat on the chair in front of you three and looked at you intently.
“This was found next to the body at the apartment crime scene.” Bailey said, throwing a ghostface mask on the table. “The dna said it belonged to someone called Richie Kirsch.”
Sam snapped her head up at the name, a look of confusion written on her face.
“Does that ring a bell?” Bailey asked, making you look between Tara and Sam, the both of them shocked at the name drop.
“We’re familiar with him.” Sam replied, her face not showing any emotion.
“The one that attacked us had a different mask on.” Tara said, turning to look at Bailey. “It's kinda more beat up, like it's older.”
“I gotta ask, do you have alibis from earlier tonight?” Bailey questioned, nodding to what Tara had said.
“I was at a party with my friends.” Tara said, leaning back in her chair.
“And you, y/n?” Bailey asked, looking at you with a smile, one that was far from friendly.
“I was at the party too.” You shrugged, looking straight into his eyes.
“I was at my therapists,” Sam cut in, “I can give you his information. You can call and check if you want. Then I met Tara and y/n at that party. Where I tased someone… Unrelated.”
“Was that before or after this?” Bailey wondered, sounding a little irritated as he moved his gaze off you and onto the older Carpenter showing a video on his phone of Sam pushing the woman from earlier.
“Before.” Sam said.
“The point is, we were with someone the whole night.” You said, becoming very tired of the questioning.
“So, our roommate's dad just happened to pull our case.” Sam stated, not believing that was entirely true.
“That would be a crazy coincidence right?” Bailey replied.
“Yeah.”
“The detective who had the case, he offered it to me because it involves Quinn. But I can totally give it back if you're uncomfortable. It’s up to you.”
Sam looked at Tara, the younger girl didn't seem to mind so Sam took her judgement and replied.
“It’s fine.”
“So if the man who attacked you did steal your licence and planted it next to the body. Then it will probably be somebody close to you.” Bailey said, causing Sam to look a little dejected. “How long have you known your friends?”
“Well we moved here with Mindy, Chad and y/n for summer semester like six months ago.” Tara said, looking at you. “So Quinn, Ethan, Anika all since then.”
“I think I can vouch for Quinn so that's one less we have to worry about.” Bailey said. “Do the three of you have anyone that might wanna target you?”
You let out a huffed laugh as you saw Sam roll her eyes with an exasperated look on her face.
“Not anyone who’s still alive.” Tara said, shaking her head.
“Yikes.” Bailey commented with raised eyebrows.
“Tell me about it.” You mumbled, running a hand down your face.
Suddenly the door opened behind Bailey and an officer came in.
“The fbi is here, they need jurisdiction.” The man said.
“Where are they?” Bailey questioned, shooting up from his seat to follow the police officer.
“Jesus christ.” You muttered, leaning back on your chair, head tilting up to look at the ceiling.
“I’ve never known you to be so quiet.” Tara teased, smacking you on the stomach.
“Hey!” You exclaimed, holding onto your stomach.
“Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard.” Tara chuckled.
“You did, I think you broke something.” You joked, continuing your dramatics.
“Come on, you two. We’re leaving.” Sam said abruptly, getting up from her chair.
“Wait what?” You said, very confused as Tara dragged you out of your chair by your arm. “Where are we going?”
“I don't know, just follow my sister.” Tara answered, pulling you along beside her.
As you walked side by side with Tara and Sam, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Slowly pulling out your phone, you made sure to check the number this time.
Stopping in your tracks, you immediately knew who was calling you. Due to your abrupt halt, Sam and Tara were looking at you with confused glances.
“You okay, y/n?” Tara questioned, eyes scanning your face for any signs of emotion however it was completely blank.
“Uh, yeah.” You said, clearing your throat with a small cough. You looked up from your phone and at the younger Carpenter. “I’ve just got to take this call.”
“We’ll wait here for you.” Sam smiled.
“It’s no problem, you go on, I'll catch up.”
With reluctant nods, Sam and Tara walked away from you. Your finger hovered over the answer button and just as it was about to go to voicemail you picked it up.
“Hello again, y/n.”
“You know, you are starting to really piss me off.” You answered, kicking the ground by your feet.
“Now, now, that’s not a nice way to greet someone, is it?” They replied, causing you to practically hear their smirk.
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Let me try that again. Hey, ghostface, how’s it going?”
“That’s better.”
“Okay, cut the bullshit. What do you want?” You snapped, moving to lean your back against a nearby wall.
“How about a little trip down memory lane?”
“And what could you possibly know about my past?”
“Everything.”
“Huh, funny.” You scoffed, looking around you, making sure no one could hear your conversation.
“You don't believe me, do you?”
“Why should I?”
“One of your old friends is right around the corner.” They said, ignoring your question.
“One of my old friends?”
“Yes. Now I'm sure you remember the night.”
“What night?”
“Two-thousand and eleven was a wonderful year, wasn't it?” They asked rhetorically, ignoring you once again.
“For some.” You shrugged.
“Not for you though, was it?”
“Depends.”
“Poor nine year old y/n.”
“Okay, I am sick of your shit. Stop fucking around and tell me what you know.” You said loudly, pushing yourself off the wall and into the middle of the hallway.
“You miss her don’t you? I mean she was your sister after all. Even if she did turn out to be a murderer.”
“Fuck you.” You said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, so vulgar.” They exclaimed.
“Keep my sister’s name out of your mouth.”
“Well, I haven't even said her name yet, have I? What was it again? I can't seem to remember it.” They teased, sending shivers up your spine. “Was it Jamie? No, that doesn't seem right. Jenny, still no. Oh I know.”
“Oh do you now?” You asked sarcastically.
“Jill.”
All of a sudden everything in your body went cold. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your breath got caught in your throat.
You couldn't think of a reply, your brain replaying that night in your head.
“Ooh, I know everything about you y/n.”
Before you could think of a response the line went dead and you were left standing in an empty police station hallway, your thoughts running over a million miles an hour.
You let out a shaky breath, placing your phone back in your pocket before making your way to where Sam and Tara walked off to.
As you rounded a corner, you saw Sam and Tara talking with Bailey as well as someone you thought you wouldn't see ever again.
“Kirby?” You muttered, stepping into view.
“Y/n?” She replied, shock evident on her face.
“You guys know each other?” Sam questioned, looking between you two.
“Yeah, we…” Kirby trailed off, still in a little shock.
“It's a long story.” You said, sending Kirby a smile.
Kirby let out a small chuckle before walking towards you and engulfing you in a hug.
As you caught up with Kirby, a police officer came up to the five of you and handed Bailey some paperwork along with a second ghostface mask.
“He left this mask at the bodega, dna traces of two individuals; Charlie Walker, Jill Roberts. Both deceased.”
As Jill’s name was mentioned, Kirby felt your body go stiff in her arms. She rubbed a soothing hand along your arm before detaching herself from you.
“Ghostface killers of two-thousand and eleven. Charlie Walker gave me this.” Kirby said as she lifted up her shirt to show a scar of where she had been stabbed in the abdomen. “Is this the mask he was wearing when he attacked you?”
“No.” Tara replied, as she and her sister shook their heads together, you however were still stuck in a trance.
“So he’s leaving them on purpose.” Bailey stated.
“Which means whoever is doing this is a student of the killers who came before.” Kirby added. “Maybe he believes Sam’s the latest in the long line.”
Once Kirby finished her sentence, she moved her gaze back onto you. Although Sam and Tara didn’t know you were related to Jill, Kirby did.
If ghostface was going after Sam, then that meant they were also going to come for you.
Oh how you wished what Kirby said was wrong.
“Yeah, goodluck with that.” Sam said, sarcasm present in her tone. “We’re getting out of town.”
Sam walked past Bailey and Kirby, Tara following behind. The younger Carpenter grabbed onto your hand and she pulled you along too.
“I’m sorry but that’s not possible.” Bailey said, causing the three of you to turn back around.
“And why is that?” You questioned, feeling your temper rise and your patience completely dissipate from your body.
“The three of you are each persons of interest to a double homicide so you’re not allowed to leave town, sorry.”
“Are you serious?” Tara asked, not believing what he said.
“How am I involved?” You wondered.
“He’s right.” Kirby nodded. “But, if we work together-”
“We’re going.” Sam cut her off pulling you and Tara along with her. With one last look at Kirby, you were pulled away from her and towards the exit of the station.
Sam led the three of you out of the police station with purpose and slammed open the doors to the outside. You were met with a hoard of news reporters bombarding you all with questions.
Sam walked ahead of you and Tara, pushing her way through the reporters while you wrapped a protective arm around Tara’s shoulders, pulling her into you as the two of you stayed close behind Sam.
Each question, name drop and sentence thrown at the three of you were ignored apart from one voice that stuck out.
“Gale Weathers, Channel Four.”
“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.” You muttered, turning around to face the woman.
“Do you three think you’re the reason that the ghostface killer has come to the big apple?” Gale questioned, her gaze focusing on you for a moment longer, softening slightly.
Sam scoffed, pretending to turn around only for her to throw a punch at Gale. The older woman dodged the attempt as everyone gasped at what they just saw.
“Nice try sweety but I've done this dance before.” Gale said smugly but her last word was cut off as another hand came swinging towards her face. This time she didn’t have time to dodge and a right hook was sent to her cheek.
You looked at Tara in pure shock, a smile taking over your features.
“Stay away from us.” Tara threatened as she walked away, you and Sam following her with proud glances.
“Are you really still mad at me?” Gale questioned, following after the three of you.
“You said you wouldn't write a book about what happened.” Sam said, turning to face the woman with anger. “And then you wrote a book about what happened!”
“Oh come on.” Gale sighed. “Somebody was gonna write about it. It’s what I do.”
“I heard you couldn't sell the movie rights.” Tara cut in, a deadly look on her face.
“It's all about true crime limited series these days.” Gale responded with an eye roll.
“After everything we went through together.” Sam shook her head. “What would Dewey think?”
“That's a low blow.” Gale said, and you let out a small whistle of agreement.
“Your book was a low blow.” Sam rebutted. “You called me unstable and a born killer.”
“That’s taken out of context.”
“That's literally a quote.” You pointed out, sending a smile to Gale which turned out more like a grimace.
“You don't think what you wrote has something to do with what's happening to us?” Tara exclaimed.
“Come on.” You said, pulling both Carpenters to a parked up taxi.
“I talked to Sidney.” Gale said, causing the three of you to stop in your tracks once again.
You sighed to yourself, looking up at the sky, wondering what else this woman could possibly say.
“She’s not coming here is she?” Tara asked, worry laced in her tone.
“No.” Gale shook her head. “She sends her love but she’s taking the kids and Mark someplace safe. She deserves to have her happy ending.”
“And that much we agree.” Sam said before opening the back door to the taxi and getting in.
You held the door open for Tara waiting for her to get in but Gale spoke up again.
“Hey I want to catch this fucker as much as you do.” Gale said, raising her voice a little.
“Maybe.” Tara shrugged. “Or maybe you're just afraid that without Ghostface in your life, you're gonna fade away.”
Tara gave the woman one last look before getting into the taxi.
“Did you get all that on film?” You smirked, pointing to the multiple cameras behind Gale.
Gale looked at you with an irritated glint to her eye causing you to chuckle. Just as you were about to get in the taxi, Gale called out your name.
“Y/n, can I talk to you for a second?” She pleaded.
You let out a small sigh, looking back at Tara. She gave you a small nod and you promised to only be a few minutes.
“What’s going on, Gale?” You questioned, a hand rubbing your forehead.
“H-how are you feeling?” Gale wondered.
“How am I feeling?” You repeated, sarcasm laced in your voice. “Since when did you care?”
“Sidney has been asking about you.”
“Then why couldn’t she just contact me?” You scoffed.
“She's trying to keep a low profile and-”
“And texting me will blow her cover? Bullshit, she’s my cousin.”
“Look, y/n. you’ve been through this twice-”
“So what? I was nine the first time! Nine!” You said, raising your voice. “That doesn’t mean I'm used to it by now!”
“I know I just-”
“My own sister stabbed me! That will do something to a person. Especially a child.”
“I want to be there for you, y/n.” Gale said softly.
“Look, Gale.” You started, a long sigh spilled from your lips. “I don’t think I can go through this again.”
“I know, this is my sixth time and it feels like the first.”
“I’m scared, Gale. I’m so scared.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering.
“I’d think you were a psycho if you weren’t.” Gale said, letting out a wet chuckle as tears fell from her own eyes.
“They know.” You said, wiping your eyes. “They know about Jill.”
“Maybe it’s time to tell your friends. Before Ghostface does.”
“Maybe, I’ll think about it. Just not yet.”
“Okay.”
“I uh- I have to go.” You mumbled, looking back at Tara and Sam in the taxi, the younger girl giving you a worried glance as she spotted the tear marks on your face.
“Yeah, okay. You have my number so call me. I’ll always pick up.”
“Will do.” You smiled, moving your hand to squeeze hers before backing away and into the taxi.
You closed the car door with one last look at Gale, the taxi driver drove off.
“Nice punch by the way.” You teased Tara, using your elbow to nudge her side.
“Shut up.” Tara mumbled, locking her arm with yours as she rested her head against your shoulder, her fingers intertwined with yours.
“Where are we going?” You questioned, looking down at the smaller girl leaning against your side.
“We’re going to the park to meet up with everyone.” Tara replied.
“No doubt it will entail one of Mindy’s rants.” You said, causing Tara and Sam to chuckle.
“Probably.”
“Actually, I'll put a bet on that. Five dollars Mindy brings up us being in a sequel or something.”
“No chance, I'd like to keep my money.” Tara said, patting a hand on your thigh.
“You're no fun.” You sighed.
The rest of the ride to the park was filled with jokes and laughter, despite what had happened the night before. Before you knew it, the taxi driver had stopped and the three of you were getting out.
It didn't take long for you to find your friends and after you greeted everybody, you sat down beside Tara, in between her and Ethan. The only person who wasn’t sitting down was Mindy, who stood in front of you all.
“Okay nerds, listen up.” Mindy said, clapping her hands above her head to gain everyone's attention. “As terrifying as this all is, I'm actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time… it's fine, okay.”
“Here we go.” You muttered under your breath earning an elbow to the ribs from tara.
“The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.” Mindy continued.
“Called it.” You whispered in Tara's ear, the girl trying to keep the corners of her mouth from turning into a smile.
“Um- what's a requel?” Anika questioned, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked up at her girlfriend.
“You're beautiful sweetie.” Mindy said, pointing to the girl with her hands. “Let’s hold questions till the end.”
“Stab took place in Woodsboro, Stab Two took place in college.” Sam spoke up.
“So do you think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara asked, looking up at Mindy.
“That is one possibility.” Mindy nodded. “Heroes now in college, check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round out the suspect list and/or the body count. Check, check and check.”
“I don't like this.” Ethan said, shaking his head before looking away.
“But it can't just be about Stab Two.” Mindy said, ignoring Ethan as she continued to explain her point.
“Why not?” Tara wondered, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked up to Mindy once again.
“It makes sense if this were just a sequel.” Mindy explained. “But we're not in a sequel because nobody just makes sequels anymore. We’re in a franchise! And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.”
“I had a feeling.” Sam sighed, looking to the ground.
“Is this making sense to you?” You questioned, leaning towards Ethan who shook his head. “Okay at least it's not just me.”
“Rule one!” Mindy said loudly as she started to pace around. “Everything is bigger than last time! Bigger budget, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shootouts, beheadings. You gotta top what happened before to keep people coming back.”
“Beheadings?” Chad asked, looking up from his notebook and at his sister.
“Beheadings.” Mindy confirmed, nodding her head. “Rule two, whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations, if the killers last time were whiny, snowflake, film nerds with letterboxd accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.”
“Has she breathed yet?” You mumbled to the two next to you, Ethan letting out a quiet snort of laughter whilst Tara shook her head with a small smile gracing her lips.
“And rule three, no one is safe.” Mindy said, calming down a little. “Legacy characters are cannon fodder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bit for nostalgia. It’s not looking too good for Gale and Kirby, oh and that isn’t even the worst part!”
“This is the part where she tells us the worst part.” Chad said, looking up from his notebook only for a second.
"The worst part is, franchises are just continuing episodic instalments designed to boost an ip. Which means, main characters are completely expendable now too, Laurie Strode, Nancy Thompson, Ellen Ripley, Sally Hardesty, Jigsaw, Tony Stark, James Bond, I mean even Luke Skywalker, all die so that their franchises can live on." Mindy ranted. "That means it's just not the friend group, any of us can go at any time. Especially Sam and Tara.”
“Well that’s just brilliant then, isn’t it.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, glancing over to Tara who was already looking at you.
"W-wait, any of us?" Ethan asked as he looked up at Mindy who nodded. "Does- am I in the friend group?"
"Yeah".
"Am I like one of the targets of-”
“Mhm.”
“Am I gonna die a virgin?”
You almost choked on your own spit, leaning forward as Tara patted your back, looking at the boy with a laugh.
Mindy looked away for a moment, a grimace on her face. "That was...a weird overshare. But it brings us to our current suspects, Ethan, the shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky.”
Ethan shook his head as Mindy took a step up to him. "Okay, wait, why am I on the suspect list? Because I'm randomly Chad's roommate?"
"Roommate lotteries can be juked, you could've fixed it to get in next to us.” Mindy stated and Ethan just rolled his eyes before slumping back while Mindy turned to look at Quinn.
"Quinn, the slutty roommate, a horror movie classic.”
"Sex positive, but thank you?" Quinn said, tilting her head.
Mindy just hummed before turning back to look at Tara and Sam. "How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?"
"I answered their ad online?"
"Okay! Say no more! You've already implicated yourself enough!" Mindy yelled.
"It was an anonymous ad, Mindy. And you know we vetted her plus her dad's a cop-" Tara said, looking at Mindy as she defended her roommate.
"And that makes it more likely that she's the killer because having a cop dad is a great cover, do you not remember how these movies work, Tara?"
"Is she always like this?" Quinn asked, leaning forward as she spoke to Sam, the older Carpenter shrugging as her response.
"Anika.” Mindy smiled, walking over to her girlfriend who blew her a kiss, Mindy doing the same to her before looking at her more seriously. "Never trust the love interest.”
“Okay, so...we have our rules. And we have our suspects.” Sam said, wiping her hands on her jeans.
"Wait, wait.” Ethan interrupted, looking up at Mindy. "What about you guys?"
"I mean, I think it's pretty safe to rule out the five of us who went through this last year in Woodsboro.” Mindy said, crossing her arms as she looked at the boy.
"Agreed.” Chad smiled, pointing his pencil at Mindy.
"Um, not agreed. What if the trauma you all went through caused one or more of you to snap?" Quinn remarked, shaking her head.
Ethan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I mean, or the thing you got from the killings made you thirsty for more? I mean, to be honest here, some of the theories online about Sam are-"
"Don't you fucking dare!" Tara snapped at the boy.
“Let’s not go there, buddy.” You said, patting him on the shoulder, a little too harshly making Ethan let out a small wince at the action.
"Okay.” Anika nodded, sitting up straighter. "She's right, though. I mean, face facts, if we're all suspects, you're all suspects.”
Mindy just crossed her arms as she thought about those words for a moment not knowing how to reply.
“Okay, I'm leaving now.” You said, slapping your hands to your knees before standing up.
“Where are you going?” Tara questioned, looking up at you.
“Probably to kill someone.” Ethan muttered under his breath.
“Funny.” You replied sarcastically, staring the boy down. “I was going to get some food for later.”
“I’ll come with you.” Tara said, standing up quickly.
“Yeah, okay.” You smiled. “Anyone else want to come?”
“Might as well.” Mindy shrugged.
“Anika, do you want to come?” You asked, looking at the girl still sitting down.
“No, it’s all good, I'll meet you later.” She replied with a smile.
“Anyone else?” You asked once more but everyone shook their heads and you gave them a nod of acknowledgement. “Guess it’s just us three.”
“Cool, we’ll see you in a bit.” Mindy said, giving her girlfriend a kiss before walking off with you and Tara.
“Be careful.” The three of you heard Sam’s voice come from behind you and you saw how Tara rolled her eyes at her sister.
“She’s just looking out for you because she loves you, y’know.” You chuckled, nudging Tara with your elbow.
“Clearly Chad doesn't care about me.” Mindy said, seeing as Chad didn’t say anything to her before she left.
“Alright, enough about siblings, last one to the store is a rotten egg.” You said quickly before you ran off ahead of your two friends.
“Child. They are a literal child.” Tara mumbled, shaking her head.
“You’re still going to run though, aren’t you.” Mindy said, speeding up a little.
“Of course.” Tara chuckled.
#tara carpenter#tara carpenter imagine#tara carpenter imagines#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega imagines#jenna ortega x reader#scream vi#scream#scream 6
821 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, now that I finished the Brothers ‘How they fell for MC’ series, I’m going to talking about the poly hierarchy within them:
It will go without saying that as far as the power structure, not much will change. The brothers have always lived this way, they’re comfortable with that end of the power dynamic.
Where it gets shiftier is where jealousy flare ups happen. This is where MC steps in. They don’t happen as much once the brothers agree to the relationship. MC does have their work cut out for them though. 7 partners is a lot, and we haven’t even gotten to the Prince, Barbatos, Simeon, and Solomon.
MC has to see the whole picture, or as close as possible. Which brothers handle their jealousy best, what day is promised to which brother, what are the circumstances of the argument. This sheep is a whole diplomat. Carefully treading the waters to find the fair and valid points. It isn’t perfect, but it’s fair. For example, if it’s date night with Mammon, but Levi just won tickets to an event for tonight and wants MC to go, it’s Mammon’s night. So unless Mammon volunteers his night to Levi, then that’s that.
Usually that’s when Levi’s envy will kick in, but he will be reminded of the times his brothers have had to respect his nights with you too.
It takes a few months for everyone to settle out, but once the routine is in place it works quite nicely.
It gets more hectic if you include Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, & Solomon. (Which I do, like, have you met me??)
The brothers will grumble at first for a few reasons. Those that have issue with Diavolo will complain about him moving in on their partner. Some will be opposed to an Angel being involved with MC, and some will make comments about that shady sorcerer; but a few conversations as a group bring everyone to the same mind set, and ultimately things adjust.
I say group conversation and I mean group conversations. It’s one thing for a brother or partner to mention something to MC as a one off issue, but more than once and it will be addressed during the weekly gathering. It sounds like a bit of a business meeting, but it keeps the air between everyone open and clear. After all, they are all functioning as a singular unit.
Diavolo’s responsibilities can make a scheduled date night near impossible, as can Lucifer’s, and Barbatos’. Lunch dates are common between them. Official events that require attendance are tricky, who do they attend with? Usually they attend as the hosts guest. Which means Diavolo usually… and MC will wear Diavolo’s colors, however there will be a flash of sapphire, a twinkle of gold, a glint of emerald… yes, they make sure some part of themselves is recognizing all of them. Even if it’s a bracelet or a ring with each of them represented. They also have access to dance with MC during the event. There’s a protocol to this as with all things. The host gets first and last dance, no question. After those dances, depending on how much MC wants to dance, they take turns. Beel, Levi, & Belphie aren’t big on dancing, so they use their time to help MC recover, drinks, snacks, conversation. MC loves them for the ability to slow down and just observe the room, to take a breath.
Let me pause here to point out that while most events are hosted by Diavolo, there are a large number hosted by Asmo, or Mammon. Satan has hosted a few art shows, Levi is a frequent honored guest at anime conventions, as well as his Royal Navy duties. So usually in some small place or time, they are all the main partner to MC.
With the addition of the non-brother partners, it does get a little more complicated schedule wise, as there is no longer a set day for each, and sometimes days get shifted because of late night work (Lucifer, Dia, and Barbatos) so depending on MC’s mood, they either go in to help work, or they have a pajama party and movie night with the others, sometimes, they just have a rare night alone, to soak in the tub and relax, put on one of their partner’s shirts and curl up, read a book, and drift off to sleep.
Or get surprised by the door bursting open to find one of the brothers charging forward with some kind of insanity (they will never learn to knock XD)
So there you have it, how MC balances a poly relationship with all the brothers + the non-brother dateables.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me headcanons#obey me mammon#obey me!#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me barbatos#obey me mc#obey me x reader
453 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jstor
JSTOR
cosmicrollo
If you live among wolves, you have to act like a wolf
malefixium
Intent
mem-ent0-mori
ugh.
sranquility
Untitled