Tumgik
#okay side note tell me why that was a saved tag when have I typed she was my gay awakening before
robotic-rin · 4 months
Text
Why Wait For The Best When I Could Have You
(Beetlejuice x Reader)
Tumblr media
Summary: In the light of recent notable events, you haven’t been quite sure how to be forthcoming with the family regarding your budding relationship with a certain demon. It doesn’t help that said demon isn’t known for his ability to keep secrets. Also, hopefully your mind isn’t too preoccupied making plans to soft launch your relationship, because Beetlejuice has had something on his mind lately that he’d really like to try out. It may or may not involve indulging his demonic instincts by hunting you for sport as foreplay. He’s lucky that he’s dating a monsterfucker.
Word Count: 24,092
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Tags: even crazier demon sex this time, predator/prey dynamic, somewhat monster-y beetlejuice, temperature play, consensual possession, tentacle sex, copious amounts of biting, overstimulation, just a dash of breeding kink, oh we’re making this one HORNY-horny folks, porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, plot segments range from domestic fluff to hurt/comfort, more of beej’s mood ring hair being used to further my nefarious agendas, afab reader but with no gendered terms, tried to limit my use of (y/n) but it is in there
Author’s Note: ok so i saw the very final showing of beetlejuice on broadway and it did inspire me to write a sequel to my fic that was originally meant to be a one shot. seeing alex brightman in the flesh was absolutely bonkers, there will never be another beetlejuice in my mind (though i’ve since seen justin on tour who is beyond awesome in the role too! alex is just my personal fave). my brain is like a snowglobe and beej is just rattling around in there so i had to write something. this can kinda stand on its own but i’d recommend reading the first fic in the series before this (linking it right here). as usual, check the tags before reading, make sure you’re good with em, and hope y’all enjoy!
“You did WHAT?”
You feel the welcoming presence of immediate regret falling over you as Barbara shoots a glare at Adam following his outburst. Maybe I should’ve told Delia first instead.
Adam seems to recoil in embarrassment at his wife’s disapproving look. “That is to say, that’s just, um…surprising! That you would accept Beetlejuice’s…unique advances. You just didn’t seem the, er, type.” His eyes dart between you and Barbara as he fumbles for words. “Okay, I’m just making it worse. Barbara, please, help.”
Barbara seems more than willing to swoop in and try to save this conversation. “What Adam is trying to say is, we love Beetlejuice, of course, he’s like family! We just didn’t expect that you would take to him so quickly and…enthusiastically! He’s a bit of an acquired taste for most people, like…quinoa salad! I mean, between the constant inappropriate comments, and the way he, to be frank, smells like a lawnmower on the best of days.” She laughs, just a bit too forced to sound natural but you’ll be damned if she isn’t doing her best to keep things polite.
Adam nods fervently. “Exactly, Barbara! Like, we’ve both kissed the guy through strange extenuating circumstances in the past, but it’s not like it was enjoyable!” He earns a swift elbow to the ribs from Barbara after that one. He lets out a soft oof and slumps against the side of the old loveseat where he and Barbara are seated across from you in the attic.
Barbara quickly turns and reaches to gently grasp your hands in hers. “Sweetie, it’s not that we aren’t happy for you, and Beetlejuice too. We just know that he can be a bit…much, after awhile, even for us. That might be a lot to deal with 24/7. I mean, it’s one thing if you didn’t have options, but someone like you? We always imagined you maybe with someone more, say…put together! Literally, when it comes to that guy.”
You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair, absentmindedly picking at the vibrant red stitched cushioning. “What, are you guys trying to tell me I can do better?” Your eyes dart up from your fidgeting hands to scan their faces.
With barely a second’s pause, the two of them begin talking over each other with various overlapping shades of, “No, nono, not at all, no…”
Adam seems to be nervously waving his hands at nothing in an attempt to dispel your accusation as though it were fog. “Hey, you’re a grown up, whatever choices you make, we support you one hundred percent! You just took us off-guard, I’m sorry if we come across as rude. If you’re sure about accepting Beetlejuice’s romantic propositions, then Barbara and I are beyond happy for you!”
“Absolutely stoked, dude!” Barbara puts on her silly deep voice for comedic effect, still fully dedicated to keeping the conversation light despite the deep awkwardness that practically permeates the air around you.
“Um, you guys realize I’m the one who more or less initiated this, right? If anything, he accepted my…romantic gesture.” You hadn’t exactly told them the less-than-family-friendly way that your feelings had been unexpectedly revealed to Beetlejuice due to some lingering sense of dignity and privacy that hadn’t yet left you, but you do have to wonder how long that’ll stay secret considering your new lover’s absolute and utter lack of shame.
“YOU came onto HIM?” This time, it’s Barbara who accidentally lets an exclamation slip out, earning an exasperated facepalm from Adam. You distantly wonder if Lydia’s conversation will go worse than this.
***
“So, how badly did they take the news?”
“They didn’t take it badly.” You resist the urge to look over at the demon who is currently hanging upside down from the ceiling next to your bed in a very relaxed bat-like fashion. Instead, you busy yourself with folding your laundry in neat piles next to you on your sheets. Anything to keep your hands moving.
Beetlejuice lets out a small huff. “You know, you can’t look me in the eye when you’re lying. The laundry isn’t that interesting, and I am literally hanging upside down on nothing. I’m very look-at-able.”
Your eyes dart up to take in his inverted face, one eyebrow raised (or lowered, from your perspective) in challenge. Any intention of snarking back at him dissolves at seeing his cute little expression, clearly proud of his perception. Without answering, you slowly lean forward, take his head in your hands, and softly kiss his lips. It’s an odd sensation to kiss someone upside down, but the two of you make it work. He returns the gesture wholeheartedly and without hesitation, kissing you in a equally gentle manner, yet not forgetting to keep you on your toes by quickly nipping your lip at the end with a sharp fang. He may be sweet with you, but he’s still himself, through and through. Not that you’re complaining.
“That was nice,” he rumbles, from somewhere way in the back of his throat. “But…you can’t kiss me out of this conversation.”
“I mean, it seemed to be working for a minute there.”
He barks out a laugh before twisting his head right side up, the rest of his body following at a delay and landing on the floor below on both feet, like a cat. “It was a valiant effort, babes. But come on, was your conversation really that bad?”
You sigh and toss aside your unfolded clothing to leave a spot on the bed for him to sit, which he readily takes. “I mean, it’s not that it was bad, it’s just…” You struggle for the right words before slumping forwards in defeat. “I don’t know.”
“Hm,” he muses at your words, emotions uncharacteristically imperceptible for a moment. “Babes, you know I won’t be pissed at them for thinking you deserve better than me, right?”
Your eyes snap open in shock and flicker over to Beetlejuice, scanning his neutral expression. Your mouth opens to say something, to assure him, to defend the Maitlands, to say something to make him feel better, but you can’t find any words.
“‘S’okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already expected it.” Beetlejuice moves to put his hand under your chin, thumb coming up to stroke your jawline to cheek. “Honestly, I agree with those two losers. I know you care about me, how could I not when you’re always lovin’ on me and shit? But I still don’t really get why. It wasn’t just to have sex, you’ve stuck around way past getting your rocks off and even willingly gotten into all my emotional fuckery. I don’t understand why. I mean, come on, have you seen yourself? You could easily woo somebody successful who, like, knows how to cook you a meal without explosions, someone who knows how dishwashers actually work, someone who can talk for hours about books, or art, or music, or whatever it is that smart people like you talk about.” He pauses. “…Someone alive. Better than a pathetic demon who just barely got a hold on his emotions after centuries of existence, at least.”
Your heart sinks, and you raise your hand to rest on top of his own hand on your face. “You shouldn’t say such negative things about yourself, for real. I don’t think of you like that, and I’m not leaving you.” You take note of his whole frame subtly tensing at those last words. There’s the sore spot. “I promise.”
His eyes dart to the floor. “…I know.”
You briefly study his reserved features in profile before bringing your hand to his face and turning him to look at you. “I’m not leaving you.”
He meets your gaze shakily. “Okay.” It seems as if he’s holding his breath, despite the fact that he doesn’t have any biological need for air. You’ve noticed that he’ll sometimes make sounds that can only be achieved through intake or outtake of breath, and you wonder if he does it on purpose for dramatic effect or subconsciously to mirror you, like a habit or mannerism picked up from a loved one. But right now, he’s still as a rock.
“Okay,” you repeat back to him, hoping your words were of some comfort. “As for the Maitlands, it’s not like they were against it or anything. They’re just surprised, and they don’t understand yet. But they will over time. Once they see us together.” You squeeze his other hand reassuringly in his lap. “And so will everyone else.”
He quickly jumps back to life after his quiet moment. “Ohhhh fuck, I forgot we have to tell everybody else in this house too. I kinda just wanna rip off the bandaid and tongue kiss you at family movie night and never bring it up so we don’t have to talk about it with all of these dweebs.”
“You absolutely know that Lydia will say something about that.” He’s right that Charles and Delia may be too polite to mention an elephant in the room, but Lydia has certainly never had an issue with being outspoken even if it’s uncomfortable.
Beetlejuice groans, flopping back on the bed. “Yep, you’re totally right. That kid is too blunt for her own good sometimes. Honestly, I’m shocked she hasn’t noticed something going on between us yet, cuz we’d totally know it if she had.”
You flop back onto the bed next to him, ignoring the tower of folded clothes that your head knocks over in the process. “To be fair, it’s only been a little over a week since we…got together.” What a polite way of saying we fucked like rabbits.
“Hm, maybe so, but you can’t deny the rich sexual tension that we’ve had going on for waaayyy longer than that, doll.” He winks at you and sticks out his tongue to punctuate the statement.
You let out a pure belly laugh at his words, playfully nudging his shoulder with your own. “Dumbass.”
Beetlejuice’s grin widens. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” He nudges you back slightly harder, so of course you have to do the same in return to keep your honor intact. Before you know it, he’s on top of you, leaving you unsure if he teleported or simply moved positions very quickly. Cheeks already flushing at the precarious position, you try your best to fight back against him feebly, attempting to throw or push him off and finding no success. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, is just laughing childishly at your predicament as he easily swats away your hands that attempt to push him away.
“I don’t take it back,” you announce stubbornly, still trying to get any sort of leverage on the demon but finding none. He clearly outclasses you in both weight and strength, but you’re not one to let the odds deter you in this game.
“Oho, you’re gonna regret that.” The next time your hand moves to shove at him, Beetlejuice instead deftly catches and holds it by the wrist, immediately doing the same when you bring up your other hand to fight him off. After capturing both of your hands securely, he easily pushes them onto the bed on either side of your head, his nose inches from your own. With you effectively pinned to the bed, his eyes lock with yours in a half-lidded teasing gaze, smirk only growing wider as you squirm beneath him to no avail. “Aww, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me?”
“This isn’t helping your case of not being an asshole.” If you can’t fight him off physically, you can at least be satisfied a bit by digging your heels into the dirt with your words. The more time you spend being silly with him, the more you understand the joy that he finds in pushing people’s buttons.
Beetlejuice doesn’t respond, and you know him well enough at this point to recognize this as his tell-tale warning sign of impending mischief. Wordlessly, he breaks the locked gaze that he had going with you to look down at the rest of your trapped form. Before you can think of a witty remark, he moves almost faster than you can perceive to press his lips to your neck and blows a raspberry against your skin. Taken completely off guard by this vicious attack, you let out a shriek and begin wiggling around to try and loosen yourself from his grasp, legs kicking but unable to aid you in your escape. He rewards your efforts with a sickly sweet smile and another attack.
“You-hu-hu dick!” Your insult only spreads his smile wider, which in turn makes you want to get out of his grip and launch a counter-attack even more.
“Wow, what a nasty little breather you are. Maybe if you took back your hurtful words, I’d stop.” He demonstrates his ruthlessness by giving you another raspberry right where your neck meets your collarbone, his scruffy beard tickling horribly against your skin and driving you wild. You’re unable to hide your laughter at this point, both at the sensations and his silly antics.
“F-fine! Fine! I take it back! You are NOT an asshole at all! Happy?”
He brings his head back up to brush noses with you, a self-satisfied and victorious grin plastered to his face. “Was that so hard?”
You wrinkle your nose at him as you struggle to catch your breath, trying not to show on your face the overwhelming fondness that is currently washing over you. He’s unspeakably cute above you, delighting in a silly little game, while simultaneously straddling you in a way that’s making it even harder to settle your racing heart. With nothing witty to say, you crane your head forward to lock lips with him again, savoring the sweetness of his joyful surprise. Kissing you does at least make him let go of your hands, his need to touch you outweighing his dedication to your game. Your hands come up to grab at his hair, their new favorite spot to rest, as your kisses intensify. Beetlejuice makes a low noise and slips his long tongue into your mouth, the still-odd but welcome intrusion making you groan lightly. Part of you hopes you never fully get used to the demon’s otherworldly qualities, hopes that the way your stomach flips in surprise at feeling sharp fangs graze against your lips never dulls. You move your lips back against him with this thought in mind.
Knock, knock, knock. The sound of a rapping at your closed but unlocked door immediately pulls the two of you apart, Beetlejuice wearing a sour face at the interruption.
“(Y/N)? Can I come in or what?” The easily recognizable voice of Lydia causes you to practically throw Beetlejuice off from on top of you, and he ungracefully falls off of the bed and onto his backside with a thump. You find yourself caught between mouthing “sorry”’s and waving him away from your bed and hopefully getting across the message to act natural.
“S-sure Lydia, come on in!” You try to straighten yourself out to look presentable and inconspicuous within the next few seconds, too preoccupied with smoothing over your clothes to even check to see what Beetlejuice is doing. Before you have another moment to prepare, the door swings open and in walks the goth teen that you’ve been sharing a house with for the past few months.
“Hey, Delia just wanted me to ask if you’d help with…what are you doing?” Lydia eyes you up from the doorway as you sit with your hands folded politely on your bed.
“Oh, you know, just folding clothes!” You speak in a tone that feels far too cheery coming out of your mouth, but it’s too late for a do-over.
“Uh-huh.” Lydia crosses her arms, her eyes wandering to the knocked-over tower of once-folded clothes next to you that have since become wildly strewn about during your scrap and ensuing makeout session with Beetlejuice. “You’re doing a pretty bad job at it.”
You mentally facepalm. “Ha, yeah, I guess I am…” Your voice trails off awkwardly and you pray for this conversation to be over.
Lydia raises an eyebrow, clearly picking up the odd atmosphere but hopefully not exactly sure where it’s coming from. “Alright.” Her eyes flit over to where you last saw Beetlejuice heading, and only now do you think to follow her gaze and see what he’s up to, to which you immediately wish you hadn’t. He’s floating multiple feet away from your bed, reclined in the air like he doesn’t have a care in the world, licking his finger and flipping through a book that is clearly upside down.
“Oh, hi Lyds! What’s up?” He does finger guns at her, the book still floating in place without his touch.
Lydia furrows her brow. “Dude, what’s wrong with your hair?” You snap back into reality with this statement as you realize that BJ’s hair is a gradient of light pink to a slightly darker fuchsia starting at his roots, probably not a color that anyone has really seen on him but you.
Beetlejuice’s face falls. “Uh. Well. You know.” He visibly struggles for words. “Romance novel. Heh.” He gestures to the book, which very prominently reads INTRO TO PHYSICS in bold letters across the front, not to mention the fact that it is still very much upside down.
Lydia nods as if that clears it all up. “Ahh, riiiight.” She turns back to you. “Anyways, Delia wanted me to ask if you’d help cut vegetables or whatever for dinner…”
You clasp your hands together as if nothing on this Earth could bring you more joy than slicing up some carrots for Delia. “Oh, of course! Tell her I’ll be right down, thanks for relaying the message!” You also do finger guns at her for no reason.
“Will do, weirdo.” She turns on her heels and shuts the door behind her without another word. You and Beetlejuice both let out a sigh of relief and you practically collapse back on the bed.
Beetlejuice floats over and collapses next to you, his body facing the opposite direction of yours. “Okay, so she definitely knows something is up.”
***
Those carrots never could’ve seen it coming, I chopped them up so well. You take a bite of the steaming hot home-cooked dinner that you lightly contributed to with satisfaction. The rest of the family eats at their usual seats at the table, conversing about whatever random topics to fill the silence between bites of food. Adam and Barbara have plates of food as well, despite not physically needing to eat. You figure it’s more of an etiquette thing with them. Beetlejuice also has his own plate, but it’s one of those children’s paper plates with an animal face on it, which is the only thing he is allowed to use ever since he proved that he cannot be trusted with the nice glass plates. You can feel his eyes on you as you eat. He’s possibly the least subtle person in the world, living or non.
“So yeah, I think I singed my eyebrows mostly off but I did get an A on my chemistry project, so it’s all cool,” Lydia concludes her story for the family, which you realize that you were accidentally zoned out for the majority of.
“Hey, careful, we don’t need any more ghosts around here!” Adam jokes, making a ribbing motion towards Lydia in the most over-the-top dad-like way.
Charles laughs through a bite of mashed potatoes. “Well, that’s certainly one way to pass a class! You’re absolutely your mother’s daughter, Lydia. You know, Emily pulled nearly that same trick when she was still in college. She’d be proud to know you’re carrying on the family legacy!”
Lydia smiles, a genuine smile that she doesn’t try to hide or diminish. “Heh, wow. That’s pretty awesome, dad.” She finishes the last bite of her meal and glances over at Beetlejuice. “Wow BJ, you haven’t even touched your slop yet.”
Beetlejuice jolts as he’s called out, and spares a look down at his plate. “Slop” is the right word for it, considering that he seems to have just poured all of his food into one big mixed-up pile like a nasty lunatic, the carrots indistinguishable from the meat and all of them lost in a sea of gravy together. Without a word, he unhinges his jaw like a snake and tosses the entire concoction down his gullet whole, swallowing everything (yes, including the plate itself) in one bite with an exaggerated gulp sound effect. He gives a thumbs up at Lydia with an unchanged blank expression, which doesn’t exactly do much to make him seem more normal.
Lydia makes a weird face at him. “Okay man, what gives? You’ve been acting weird as hell lately, and not your regular weird. You gonna let us in on what’s up or keep being all cagey?”
In your peripheral vision, you see the Maitlands immediately seem to decide that their plates just magically became the most interesting things in the room, and very worthy of their close scrutiny. You feel stuck between saying something to help out the petrified-looking demon across the table from you and staying silent to avoid further incriminating yourself.
Delia’s singsong voice breaks you from your trance. “Okay! I am uncomfortable with the energy at this dinner table and would like to move on…!” She clasps her hands together whimsically. “Now then, I have a new and exciting plan. Let’s clean up these dishes and all watch a m-“
“I slept with (Y/N).”
…Horror. That’s the only word that you can possibly use to describe your emotions in this exact moment. And from where you assume your soul is now floating outside of your body, you can see that you’re not alone, as Beetlejuice is currently the epicenter of horrified looks from everyone in the room. He slowly turns to look at you, his head seeming as though it should be making a pathetic creaking noise. His eyes are stretched so wide that they look like they could bulge out at any moment, looking dead ahead with his lips pulled tight into a long, flat line. Without a word being uttered from anyone at the table, he begins to sink into the floor. Literally. Beetlejuice slowly phases straight through the chair, into the floor, and out of sight. And just like that, he is gone. You distantly wonder if you should start cursing his name or if you’re just jealous that he has the ability to do that right about now.
Lydia finally pipes up. “Wow, you guys are shit at keeping secrets.”
***
After what you can confidently call the most awkward family conversation of your entire life, you finally make it back to your room and shut the door behind you, slumping against it in defeat. That was NOT how I originally wanted that conversation to go. I’m lucky that Lydia, Charles, and Delia were pretty chill about the whole deal, all things considered.
A rustling from your vintage armoire (perks of a pre-furnished room) snaps you back into reality. You take a tentative step towards the closed brown doors and press a hand to the old wood. The rustling stops abruptly.
“…Beetlejuice?” You call out softly, drumming your fingers against the door in a pseudo-knock. A small rustle answers you, and nothing more.
You move your fingers to lift the latch lock into its unlocked position and slowly creak both doors open. There, under your waterfall of hanging clothes, lies Beetlejuice: curled up in a little ball, hair a deep shade of purple, looking up at you with puffy dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, before you can even get a word out. “I’m stupid. Good for nothin’. I ruined your plan to tell everyone about us nicely.” You open your mouth, but he holds up a hand dramatically. “N-no need to say anything. I’ll go be a disappointment in someone else’s boudoir.” He materializes a small bindle over his shoulder and moves his hand up to snap himself somewhere else.
“Hey, wait, don’t go.” You gently grab his hand that he was about use to snap himself away, more of a symbolic gesture to stay than anything. “You’re not any of those things, and I don’t want you to leave.”
“I…” A look of slight surprise graces his forlorn face at both your words and touch. His earnest eyes seem to be searching your own for any sign of lies, and, finding none, he lowers his hand from your touch and disappears the bindle. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I really didn’t.” His voice has such a vulnerable touch to it, like a dog who had grown accustomed to being kicked and couldn’t find it in himself to expect any different. It truly breaks your heart to see, despite the lingering sense of embarrassment from dinner.
You sit outside of the large dresser, crossing your legs and leaning against its frame. “I know, bug. I’m not mad at you. I mean, I would’ve preferred maybe a softer phrasing if we had any control, but Lydia put you on the spot and we hadn’t even talked about how we would say it. It’s okay.” You bring your hand up to gently pet his hair, testing his reception to physical comfort right now. You get your answer when he leans into your hand with his entire head almost immediately.
“No kidding…kid had our number, babes. Or at least mine. But hey, least I didn’t say it like we bumped uglies or anything, I was pretty close and what I did say was all else I could think of right then. Mind couldn’t keep up with my mouth.” He lets out a labored sigh and smushes more of his face up against your hand like a particularly affectionate cat.
You give a small grin at his head bumps of love. “Yeah, well I have firsthand experience with how fast your mouth can be, so that checks out.”
A giggle that Beetlejuice couldn’t quite hold back slips out, a melodic sound to you. “Making sex jokes isn’t fair. You know I’ll always laugh at sex jokes.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I do know it.” You sit up on your haunches and lean in to lightly pepper his face with tiny kisses, only worsening the demon’s grip on his composure. The giggles that start to pour out of him uncontrollably are infectious, and you quickly find yourself unable to hold back your own. You continue your attack, enjoying the view as you watch tips of light pink begin to crawl up a few of his purple hair strands without his knowledge. After a good bit of shared laughter at your unrelenting kisses, Beetlejuice finally catches your mouth with his own. The feeling of his smile against your lips is sweeter than candy, and succeeds at making you forget all of your troubles for as long as it lasts. You suspect that he feels the same, considering that you are always, without fail, the first one to break away from every kiss due to your inconvenient need for oxygen. If it were up to him, you two might not ever come up for air.
When you pull back from him breathlessly, Beetlejuice’s eyes remain fixed on you, soft and almost perplexed as he searches for something unknowable in your expression. “Why do you love me back?” His voice comes out as a whisper despite the two of you being alone, as if he’s frightened what the walls of the home will think upon hearing his weakness.
“Oh, Beetlejuice…” You feel your loving gaze that remains locked onto him become tinged with layers of sadness, pitying the man who just can’t see himself the way you do. You reason that the best you can do is try to paint him a picture of your vision. “Where to even begin…? I can’t even say when or where I first fell in love with you, it’s like, I just realized one day that it had already happened to me without asking my permission. Yeah, I was really physically attracted to you, as we’re both well aware by now, but it’s more than that. I never wanted you to be just a hookup without anything past that.” Your hand finds its way to his own, an anchor to real life as you struggle to put your feelings to words in a way that will help him. “Beetlejuice, I love spending time with you. You’re the funniest person I know, and I’ve never had a dull moment with you. I could spend years watching bad movies and pranking the Maitlands with you and never get tired of your company. And, maybe my favorite thing about you is, try as you might sometimes, you can never actually hide how much you care about the people you love. I mean, you and Lydia squabble, but that kid is so important to you, I can see it. If she ever came home and said a teacher was picking on her, you’d probably go light their house on fire for being mean to your friend. That’s, like, the most attractive thing ever, if we’re being real here.” You’re blushing red hot at the earnest nature of your own words but do your best to keep your eyes from darting away bashfully. “Look, I…I wish I could say it better, so that you wouldn’t have to feel like you’re not good enough ever again. I wish I could fix things for you with pure strength of will, because I would be able to do it in a heartbeat. It kills me to know that you don’t always see yourself as worthwhile and lovable. I know you have stuff to work through, and honestly, so do I, but I wanna be with you to see it through. I’m all in, baby, you’re never getting rid of me. And I really do love you, so, so much.”
When you finally can savor your breath again after talking for so long without much pause and really take Beetlejuice in, you see two dark eyes looking back at you through a stream of tears. While one hand is still holding onto yours, the other is pressed up against his mouth tightly by his palm, as though to keep any sounds locked deep inside of him. Even so, he can’t quite stop a small sob from shaking his body, then another.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you attempt to soothe, craning your head to rest against his side, your chin grazing his lap as you look up at him. A more intimate touch, but not domineering and overwhelming, you hope.
Beetlejuice lets go of your hand to wipe at his eyes frantically, trying to clear away tears as more just keep flowing out of him. Now that he’s let one sob slip through, he seems to have fully lost his control as his body is wracked by more and more against his will. “I-I’m sorry, sorry…”
“Please don’t be.” You keep your head pressed against his side in a way that you hope is comforting to him. For a few moments, the two of you just sit there without speaking. You, praying that what you said was worded correctly, and Beetlejuice, trying and failing to stifle his weeping for so long and so hard that it eventually just dissolves into quiet hiccups.
After a bit of silence, Beetlejuice finally seems to calm down. “Wow, that was really embarrassing.” He speaks still lower than usual, but closer to his normal register.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry, that was supposed to make you feel better,” you sigh, bringing your head back up to be level with him (more like a bit below him, as the armoire’s bottom shelf is slightly above the ground level where you sit).
“No, s’okay. I think that was good for me to hear from you, probably. It was just…a lot. ‘Specially for someone who tries to avoid dealing with emotional crap as much as possible.” He turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he broke down crying. “N-not saying what you said to me was crap! Not at all, don’t get me wrong. Just kinda…overwhelming, getting told so much good stuff about me at one time. Not used to it, kinda freaked me out in the moment. Buncha criticism at once, sure, that’s an average Tuesday, but that’s different.”
You smile lightly at his words, taking note of the purple beginning to fade from his hair and being replaced with his usual green, in addition to streaks of light pink. “I meant everything I said, y’know. Those are just a few of the reasons that you’re stuck with me, I could give you a list triple that size if I had some ample prep time and a better grasp on flowery love language.”
“Heh, you are too cute. C’mere.” Beetlejuice grabs your entire torso clumsily by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up and into the armoire, crashing your entire body against his lounging form. The two of you go from fully separated to tangled together in a tight space very quickly, leaving you to yelp in surprise as you try to adjust your positioning without much room to do so. The fact that the bottom portion of the armoire has a lip that comes up a few inches in front of where the doors close is all that separates you from losing your balance and falling right out. Kind of a miracle we’re not breaking right through this! Not sure if that’s demon magic or if this old thing is just sturdy as hell.
Try as you might, your legs being all tangled up and too long for the space keeps you from properly lifting yourself off of him for more than a second. “Well, I’m right here now, bug. Better?” As if to punctuate this, you lose your bracing and drop yourself with a thunk back onto his chest, which shakes below you with laughter at your predicament.
“Oh yeah babes, nice to see you still can’t keep yourself off of me.” Beetlejuice snickers, but does help your slippery ass out by pushing your chest backwards a bit, making you sit up more securely and straddle him on your knees.
You look down at him from your improved vantage point, taking in his mischievous little expression and wondering how long that’s been plastered on his face. “And just what are you thinking about right now?”
He meets your questioning eyes, sly smile only growing. “Oh, nothing. Just that I’ve never had sex in a boudoir before.”
“Baby, I can barely fit in here with you, I have no idea how sex could even take place in here.” As you speak, you also become aware of the clothing hanging just above your head, and do giggle to yourself at the idea of repeatedly smacking your head against a pair of pants in this scenario.
“Well that’s ‘cuz you’re not using your imagination, my love.” You feel his hands move down to grope at your ass as he teasingly enunciates your little pet name. “It’s fine though, it is a little shallow for two in here.” With that, he poofs the two of you onto your own bed, and you sprawl out gratefully on top of him, stretching your cramped limbs out.
“Sorry bug, my human body can’t be contorted that way for very long like yours can.” Your joints pop in relief as you go full starfish on top of your demon boyfriend, snuggling your head up against his chest. “I’ll do anything else you want, as long as I’m not smushed into a box to fuck.”
“Anything?” The tone in his voice makes it seem like his ears have perked up at your words in extreme interest.
You lift your head off of his chest to look him in the eye, a playful glint in your own. “Ah, it sounds to me like you might already have an idea here.”
Beetlejuice’s eyes quickly dart away, his cheeks flushed pink. “Ah, I mean- not, y’know, necessarily per se…” His defensive mumbles fade into unintelligible hums as he twiddles his fingers nervously.
“You’re cute when you’re shy.” You bump your forehead against his, forcing him to look at you since your eyes are mere inches from his own. “Y’know, it’s just about the only time you don’t have a clever comeback.” The mumbles that he makes in response only prove your point and make you giggle, pulling your head back and rolling over to lay next to him. “But really, BJ, you can tell me. You know I won’t laugh or think you’re weird….er than usual.”
He fidgets with the fabric of the sheets beneath him. “I know you won’t, I just…” He falls silent, seeming at war with himself over what to do. Being this coy about matters of sex is extremely odd for Beetlejuice, which of course, only piques your interest on what he could be so hesitant about even more.
You place your hand on his bicep, wishing that he’d ditched the classic striped suit before the conversation started so you could feel his cool skin underneath. “Hey, I know I’ve mostly taken the lead the few times we’ve had sex since getting together, but it doesn’t have to be that way every time. You know I’m willing to try different stuff if it’s with you. The real question is, what do you want to do?”
“I mean- I just like whatever you like, you know th-“
“Beetlejuice.” His eyes finally flick back over to make contact with yours, the power of you saying his full name is enough to get his attention on you and his mind out of his own thoughts a little. Your eyes soften at his hesitance. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. Your thoughts matter to me. Promise.”
He seems to visibly soothe under your reassurances, though his face is still a bit twisted up. “I just- I mean, I guess I’ve always wanted to…” He drapes an open palm over his red-hot face, ever the drama queen.
“Yeah?”
“Maybe try, like, I dunno…hunting you down like a demon would and fucking you ‘til you forget your own name…” He chances a single glance at you through his fingers. “Something like that?” His words were spoken at about three times his normal speed, but you made sure not to miss a single syllable of that confession.
“Oh? Is that so?” You drag your words out in a sweet tone, relishing the way that he peeks at you from behind his strategically draped hand. “You wanna give me the full haunted house demon treatment before fucking me?”
Beetlejuice sits fully up, no longer able to stay reclined back on the bed or hide his enthusiasm as he talks. “Yes, yes, God yes, please, I h-haven’t thought of anything else in so long…! I wanna use my powers on you too, y’know, only if you’d be okay with that…” The floodgates have opened, and his eyes peer down at you with a vicious mix of lust and approval-seeking.
You meet his gaze with a half-lidded smile, sitting up to mirror his position. “Abso-fucking-lutely. Okay, don’t even say too much now, I’ve just decided I want you to completely surprise me on this.”
Uncertainty shrouds his expression. “You’re really okay with being scared by me, like that?”
You grin at his concern for you, internally cooing over how cute he’s being about such a lewd idea. “Baby, I hope I feel more scared than I’ve ever been before and powerless against such a big, scary demon, too. I know you respect me and wouldn’t cross any boundary that I didn’t want crossed, especially since we just the other day talked about the specifics in that department. We can use the same stoplight safeword setup as we have before, that seemed to work pretty well. So, think you can do that for me? Make me feel like I’m at the mercy of some terrifying ghost haunting my house before making me cum my brains out?”
He suppresses a groan, from far deep down in his chest. “Fuck, y-yeah, I think I can do that. Y’know, as a favor to your horny self, of course. Since you asked and all.”
You let out a giggle at his antics. “What, are you trying to tell me that it doesn’t make you horny to think about? That doesn’t sound like the Beej I know. I’m pretty sure you were at half-mast yesterday when I was just washing a zucchini in the kitchen.”
He grumbles defensively, crossing his arms but leaning in to push his shoulder into yours. “Well, try not to wash it so sluttily next time, I dunno…” His eyes dart away in embarrassment at being called out. “And hey, just a warning, but you might not be able to keep up with me if I go all-out. Remember when I told you that demons have a refractory period of like, 3.5 seconds? I wasn’t exaggerating, for once. So don’t be afraid to tell me when your little mortal body can’t take anymore.”
You have the ill-advised gall to laugh at this. “I’m not too worried about it. I’ve never had trouble keeping up with your needy ass before, so I think I’ll survive.”
Beetlejuice shrugs at your nonchalance. “Hm, if you say so. Just remember that I said it later.” He leans forward to rest his chin on his hands, as though he were preparing to gossip in bed with you. “Now, the real question is, when are we gonna get freak-ay? We do not have the amount of privacy that I’m sure you’ll want for this sorta event very often in this crowded-ass house.”
You lean forward to mirror his pose, both of you now looking like girls sharing secrets at a sleepover. “Well, I happen to know that everyone is planning to go out all day tomorrow. Including the Maitlands for once, since Lydia found out that they can possess objects and tag along for outside adventures Annabelle-style last month. Which I’d say, works out great for a human that will be home alone in the evening with the whole house to themself, eerily quiet and empty. Sure hope nothing happens.” Your demon’s pupils quickly become big round pools of inky blackness that engulf the surrounding brown iris as you say this, his body clearly giving away his interest in this idea. You flash him a knowing smirk, feeling the urge to be mean and tease him just a bit more than you should rear its head. “Think you can be patient enough to wait for it, or do you need me to give you a quick blowjob now to tide you over? I mean, I’m gonna make you wait either way, but I think I’d like to hear you ask nicely for it. Just for fun.”
As you finish speaking, Beetlejuice’s entire posture shifts in a way that you’ve never seen before. You swear that he looks slightly taller after adjusting himself to look directly at you, eyes narrowed but pupils still overtaking all of the surrounding color, fully locked on to your smaller form. “Oh-ho, my sweet, foolish little breather. I’d be more worried about yourself for the time being if I were you.” His self-satisfied smile shows off his fangs, looking even pointier than usual pressed against his bottom lip. “Now, I know you said you wanna be surprised, but I will say just one thing.” He brings a clawed hand to your cheek, stroking the soft skin gently, as though you were made of porcelain. “Make sure that tomorrow night, you’re wearing clothes that you don’t mind being ripped to shreds.” His words, spoken at a deep and salacious growl that is new to you, send a spark from the top of your spine that travels down through your entire lower body. Your visible shiver causes Beetlejuice’s slight smile to become a full grin at your reaction, and you nearly miss the intertwined streak of red and fuchsia swiftly sear its way through his hair.
You struggle to find the words to respond, his ability to turn the tables so quick has left you utterly reeling. “Uh, yeah, I can- I can do that.” And we’ve barely even begun. Maybe I really have bitten off more than I can chew.
“Good,” Beetlejuice purrs, stroking your face with claws that seem to be growing sharper by the second against your cheek. He runs them under your jawline by their tips, little pinpricks that tickle but also threaten to break the skin if he were to apply any pressure. “Oh, and uh, one more thing, my love.”
You can’t help you gulp that escapes you as his thumb and forefinger grab hold of your chin and hold you in place. “Y-yes?”
Anticipation dances behind his pretty brown eyes forebodingly. “If you run and hide from me, you’d better not let me catch you.” And just like that, it’s as though you blinked and he disappeared from your sight in an instant.
***
You adjust yourself on the living room sofa, flipping through TV channels absentmindedly. You have certainly not forgotten what Beetlejuice said to you before disappearing. On top of that, he’s made you a hyper-vigilant mess by not showing up again for the rest of the previous night and into this evening, the longest that you’ve gone without at least a pop-in visit from him since getting together. Everyone else was still gone for the day, having a lovely time out on the town, you assume. They had all said how bad they felt for leaving you behind on a family fun day, but you had fibbed a bit and told them not to worry since you were too busy with work to plan a full day out right now. Work, indeed.
A loud clap of thunder interrupts your thoughts, making you jump in surprise before sighing in relief. Hope the family isn’t getting rained out of their fun, whatever they’re doing out there. The wind is whistling outside as rain whips itself across the house with no signs of stopping. The pounding of the rain against the rooftops was creating a nice dull melody that you would to relax to, that is, if you were capable of relaxing right now. You wonder whether Beetlejuice might have any kind of influence over the weather or if the universe was just on his side for tonight. You’d by lying if you said you weren’t on edge, feeling like you’ve been standing on the edge of a precarious cliff as soon as the family left the house. He must know that you’ve been home alone for hours now, and yet he still hasn’t appeared. Unless, of course, he’s hiding in the house right now, invisible to your human eyes whenever and wherever he wants to be. As far as you know, he could be standing inches away from you, and you would be none the wiser until he chose to make himself known.
You vaguely regret the fact that you’d bent to your impulses and teased at making him wait for sex, for a multitude of reasons. A pent-up and horny Beetlejuice is an unpredictable Beetlejuice, especially when you throw in the fact that you asked him to be as rough and monstrous as possible tonight into the mix. Dread isn’t exactly the right word for what you feel, but it isn’t quite as small and easily explainable an emotion as mere anticipation either. You want him to appear more than anything, and yet all of the hair on your arms stands on end when you imagine what he’ll do when he does show up. You’ve been frustratingly wet for hours at the idea of it, unable to focus on anything else, but you haven’t touched yourself out of fear of him silently watching to see if you succumb to your own desire again, needy and impatient and desperate all because of him. The last thing he needs is such a monumental ego boost. If his goal is to play mind games and get inside my head, it’s working. You bitterly admire the restraint he’s displaying that you never would’ve imagined in a million years that he possessed.
Suddenly, another boom of thunder shakes the house, taking the lights and TV out with it and drenching you in darkness. A power outage. Awesome. Okay, stay calm. You feel around the couch cushions for your phone, but it’s nowhere to be found. Shit, I must’ve left my phone upstairs, so no dice on that flashlight for now… You quickly brainstorm an option that doesn’t feature you having to crawl up a staircase in complete darkness. Oh wait, I think Delia left some candles downstairs the other day after a long terrace meditation session! Standing up and trying to keep your balance as your eyes adjust to the sudden lack of light overtaking the house, you try to remember where the candles were last being stored. I think I saw them last when Delia was putting them in that kitchen drawer by the sink…I think.
Unsteadily, you step away from the couch and proceed in the direction of the kitchen. You’re starting to be able to make out general shapes of items in your path, but the darkness is so all-consuming that it can be hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t. You tiptoe around what could be a chair or just a dark shadow in the shape of one, taking care to reach out and touch the doorway to the kitchen with the delicate tips of your fingers before gently creaking it open. It makes far more sound in the process of opening than you would like, which you proceed to feel silly about worrying over considering that Beetlejuice is most likely not even here if he hasn’t made himself known yet. You feel you can pretty confidently conclude that he wouldn’t have this much patience, not when you’re so clearly right out in the open and defenseless.
With the door full and loudly open, you slip through and into the main kitchen area. Feeling around for the correct cabinet, you finally reach the one you were hunting for and pull the drawer out slowly. Using mostly touch, you feel around inside for the distinct texture of the long wax candle that Delia was holding in your memory, your hand skittering around the menagerie of unseeable items until your fingers finally graze its smooth surface. Your feeling of success is immediately extinguished when you hear a dull thud from the living room through the door, like the sound of something heavy being placed on the floor just a bit too quickly. At this noise, your hair immediately stands on end and you shrink towards the ground on instinct. You can’t quite see through the door at the angle you’re at, but you keep your eyes glued on the doorframe anyway. After a few moments of only utter silence following, you slowly rise back to full height. Maybe I am on edge enough to be imagining things. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard a phantom sound while I’m home alone that turned out to be nothing.
Steeling your nerves, you return your hands to the drawer to feel around for a candle lighter, keeping your body faced towards the doorway and your back facing nothing but an empty corner. The rain continues to pound against the house, lessening your sharp hearing abilities a bit with its unyielding dull roar. It’s taking you longer to find the lighter now, considering how you’re attempting to be careful to not disturb the various items in the drawer so as to make the least amount of sound possible. But the mixture of being unable to find the lighter and being on high alert from the random noise is making your heart race, and making you increasingly sloppy in your work of rustling around the drawer. You’re actually beginning to pant as you try to quicken the speed of your hands, ears ringing as you search fruitlessly for this godforsaken lighter and become only worse and worse at the task. You swear you see something move in the kitchen out of the corner of your eye, but nothing has come through the door and all of the shadows feel as though they’re closing in and grabbing at you, so you ignore your mind’s alarm bells and begin rifling through the drawer with reckless abandon. You feel as though you’re reaching a breaking point of some sort when finally, finally, you feel the cool plastic of the lighter beneath your touch. You let a shaky breath out, grasping the lighter and clicking in the button to produce a small flame.
Just as the flame sparks to life, lighting up your world just that small but significant bit, you feel your stomach drop in a way that tells you something is deeply, deeply wrong. It’s an old gut feeling, one so ancient and instinctual that it feels utterly impossible to ignore. The flame goes out, despite you still holding the button down. Before you have a chance to truly take this emotion in, you feel an unnatural chill that starts at your neck and runs all the way down your spine. You reach up to cover your neck reflexively, only for the same sensation to hit your fingers and the exposed bits of neck around it, closer and more intense. It’s only now that you realize what exactly is causing this chill against you. Breath. Cold, inhuman breath. A flat, unconvincing charade of your own breathing, carving a space for itself in the uncanny valley due to how incorrect it feels. Not only is it cold, but the breaths don’t have proper breaks between them, and they shift from being far too short to far too long to ever pass as natural. You realize upon this consideration that you’ve been frozen for more time than you meant to be, and quickly whip your body around to come face-to-face with the source of this “breathing.” But when you turn around, you’re merely greeted by empty air, same as it was before. Except that now, you feel the same breath on your neck from behind you again, causing you to once again try to turn fast enough to catch the source. And again, you fail.
Suddenly, you see a ripple in the shadows in front of you and feel a pressure push itself against your body. You scream on impulse at the contact and jump backwards, dropping your wax candle and accidentally knocking a bowl that had been left on the kitchen counter to the floor in the process, where it shatters on impact. With no time to react, you feel yourself pushed up against the same wall you had fearfully jumped towards by the same heavy force as before. You’re rendered completely immobile in seconds, some invisible, freezing cold strength holding you in place against the wall. Your arms are pinned up by your head, with most of the presence being on your torso to keep you in place. On top of the otherworldly force, you feel phantom hands begin to travel all over your body, too many to count. Over your throat, your chest, your legs, your ass. Scratching down your arms, you can barely see in the darkness as small red marks appear on them out of thin air. Without any warning, you feel something wet that you cannot see make contact with your exposed collarbone and drag its way up your neck, deliciously slow, as though you were being savored. At the same time, something sharp digs into both of your thighs at once, five little pinpricks of that grace the underside of each leg as they are lifted up and into the air, dangling uselessly. You can’t tell if blood is being drawn, but it hurts enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Hurts so good. Hurts so good.
“B-Beetlejuice…” Your breathy moan pierces the otherwise silent room, and the wet appendage is pulled away from your throat slowly and deliberately. The pinpricks are lifted from your thighs and your feet come back to rest on the ground.
The shadows once again ripple, but this time, you can finally see him there, inches away from your face. His usually soft and pleasant features are so sharp and monstrous upon his self-reveal that it makes you jump a bit just to see him. He’s tall, unmistakably taller than his usual height, and looming over you with the hunched posture of a recently-transformed werewolf, some creature who was all bent out of its natural shape. Everything otherworldly about him is exaggerated, you notice, as your eyes rake over his fangs, which have become long enough to look like they could seriously do some damage in addition to his other usually-normal teeth looking sharp enough to hurt you as well. His claws are filed into sharp points, his tongue appears to have developed a fork at the tip on top of its impressive length, and his pupils have completely shifted into small black slits. A bright lightning strike pours through the large kitchen window and lights up the house for but a second to reveal his changed form more clearly to you, the black and white stripes covering his form reminding you of the hypnotically beautiful warning markings of a venomous creature. In the momentary flash, his eyes, mere inches away from yours, reflect back the light and shine bright white like the eyes of some nocturnal animal. The expression in those eyes is wild and feral, and while you’ve certainly seen Beetlejuice’s expression full of desperation and lust, this is the first time that you’ve felt like he’s ready to pounce and take whatever he wants from you. Not to mention the mixture of red and fuchsia lighting up his hair even in this darkness, a combination that you’ve never seen overtake him before.
“Mmm, I could cum from your delicious screams alone,” his voice rasps next to your ear, having an additional deep growl to his every word that you’re certain only a demon could produce, his usual tone mixing with something darker layered beneath it. It rumbles against your skin and causes another shiver to shoot up your spine, making your entire body shudder under his hold. He gives a look that you can assume is deep satisfaction with himself, pressing his face to your neck and inhaling deeply. “Gimme a color, babes.”
You gulp, not prepared to force words out of your dry throat. “G-green.”
You feel him smile against your skin. “Good. You tell me if that changes.” He pulls his head back to really take you in. You must look like a wreck, eyes clouded over with terror and desire, already clearly a horny mess from hours of waiting. Whatever state you’re in, it must please Beetlejuice to see, as he can’t seem to stop raking his eyes up and down your figure. “Okay, you want monster, how about this…I’m gonna give you ten seconds to decide whether you’re gonna run and hide like prey, or stand here and take it like a champ. Your call, but I will say this: if you can successfully hide from me, I’ll make it worth your while. This night can still become all about you, I can put all my focus into getting you off like a good little demon. But, if you decide to run, and I catch you, I’m gonna use you. I’m gonna make you get me off again and again and again, and I’m gonna keep fucking you like my own little personal toy ‘til I’ve used every last little bit of you up. However long that takes.” There’s no hiding the bulge that rubs up against your thigh as he lays out this last part of the agreement. “So. Deal?”
Your mouth runs dry at his proposal, but not out of distaste, or any true fear. It’s something much more entrancing that holds you in place, warmth pooling between your legs before you finally speak, your voice sounding far less stable than you’d like. “Deal.”
A devilish smirk makes its way across Beetlejuice’s features, and he puts his hand out to shake on it. Even when he’s taking charge, it seems he can’t help but still be at least a little bit of a dork about it. You reach out to take his offered hand and he squeezes your own with more force than necessary before moving both of your hands up and down emphatically. Satisfied, he lets you go for the moment. “Your ten seconds begin now.”
It’s not even a question when you tear off towards the living room, through the kitchen door which swings aimlessly behind you due to the rush of your swift exit. Behind you, you can hear harsh laughter growing distant as you run. Your eyes quickly search your surroundings as you sprint carefully across the length of the dining room (at least, as much as you can safely sprint in this darkness). The house has only so many rooms, but is quite spread out and full of potential objects to conceal yourself behind, or under. The problem is, you have mere seconds to get into place and your brain is currently mixed up in a swirling whirlpool of arousal and pure prey drive that is greatly affecting your ability to locate a proper hiding space. You have no idea if it’s been one second or nine seconds by the time you reach the couch that you had been sitting on not too long ago, and hopelessly try not to lose yourself to panic as you scan the room at light speed. Both the Deetz and Maitland families kept the house fairly free of unnecessary clutter, which on any other day, would be a perk to living in their shared house. Not so much when a demon is hunting you.
Just as you’re starting to get overwhelmed by the feeling that you’ve lost before you’ve even begun, you notice that there’s a small space between one of the living room sofa chairs and the wall that would probably be just big enough for you to squeeze behind. Having no other option readily available, you practically hurl yourself into the crevice. You harshly smack your right forearm on the armrest of the cushioned chair on the way down but pay it no mind, draping a blanket that had been sitting on the lap of the chair to hang slightly over your head so as to better conceal yourself. Just as you finish adjusting your hiding place, you hear the door to the kitchen slam with terrifying power.
“Oho, my little breather, don’t you know that the quickest way to get a predator to chase you is to run?” His voice is ice cold yet tinged with a bit of humor, but whatever the joke is, you’re clearly not in on it. He’s laughed at you plenty before, but it’s usually benign and lightly teasing, not the hissing, cruel laughter that seems to encircle and taunt you now. You hear footsteps begin to fall, loud stomps that seem to echo through the room and make it difficult to pinpoint which direction he’s headed. That is, until they start to head distinctly closer.
You try to calm your breathing, which is still heavy and labored due to your mad dash from the kitchen. Your racing heart certainly isn’t doing you any favors in this regard, only adding to your stifled gasps for air. You put a hand over your own mouth, doing your best to quiet your stupid human noises as the sound of your demon’s footsteps grow closer and closer. Even as you do, you feel your lungs greedily pleading for more air than you can currently offer, and breathing through your nose does little to quiet your body’s demands. As you sit in your makeshift nest like a quail trying not to startle and take flight, the realization dawns on you much too late that you have been fighting a losing battle. This wasn’t a fair deal, it was a game, and this game was clearly stacked in his favor. You should’ve know you can’t hide from a demon in his own house, not when he hadn’t even put a time limit on the deal! You mentally berate yourself for being so foolish, getting tricked into playing a game that could never be won. Or maybe he didn’t really trick you; maybe on some level, you knew you wanted to lose to him, before losing yourself in him. A deal with a devil you were destined to regret from the start. These thoughts buzz around your mind incessantly, feeling louder than your heartbeat and heavy breathing combined.
A feral growl snaps you from your mind’s tangent, so close to your hiding spot and yet not quite on top of it yet. “It’s no use, I can smell you.” You heard him audibly sniff the air. “Hmm, you smell like fear, the fear of someone who knows just how outmatched and, well, how fucked they really are, but it’s all mixed up with the smell of your lust. I’d never mistake that combination in a million human lifetimes. So sweet, so perfect, you’re making me drool here, doll…”
Your treacherous heart quickens at his words, and you pray that he can’t hear it pounding away in your chest. You’re internally pleading for the pouring rain outside to mask any smaller sounds that you make, but you don’t count on any favors from the universe today.
“Hmm…” You can hear the smile in his voice, and the implications of this worry you greatly. “You know, you act like you’re so mature and unknowable compared to me, but I can read you like a book. I can smell how wet you are for me, how much you’ve been absolutely gagging for it since last night. Y’know, I’m kinda shocked you didn’t just fingerblast yourself on the couch like a needy little whore after I made you wait so long. I know you wanted to. Bet you couldn’t think about anything else all night.”
You feel your face completely flush, biting down on the hand that you’ve been using for covering your mouth to keep from making any sound. He thinks he can get me to break by his words alone, but he’s wrong. I’m not going down that easily. After speaking, you notice that his stomping footsteps have halted, as though he’s standing frozen with his ears pricked up to listen for you to falter. You hold steady, difficult as it is. Without warning, a loud CRASH rings out, making you jolt in place. For a moment, your brain registers it as a thunderclap, before quickly realizing that Beetlejuice had in fact violently flipped over some large piece of furniture in the living room, uprooting it in his search for you. Or just to frighten you. Take your pick.
“I’m starting to get impatient with you, little bird,” he snarls, pacing around the large room and forcefully pushing away seemingly anything that finds itself in his path. “The longer you make me wait, the worse it’ll be when I eventually catch you. And I will catch you. You can’t hide from a demon for very long.” As he speaks, you hear another sound ever so faintly, but one that immediately makes you press your thighs together painfully. The unmistakable sound of Beetlejuice roughly pumping his own cock. It’s increasingly evident that he might be getting off on this even more than you are, which is quite a feat.
You suppress a pleasurable shudder, as well as the desire to join him. Your thighs rub together in a sad attempt to find friction, instead just making you feel more like a desperate caged animal. You hear him let out a small moan from across the room, and can’t help the way that your breath hitches in your throat before coming out as the smallest whine, barely crossing the threshold of your parted lips against your will before you hurriedly clamp your mouth down around it. Even so, you hear Beetlejuice’s various noises immediately stop all at once, before he begins stalking in your direction again. Every footstep that falls on the floor feels as though it’s signaling your end, a dark shadow creeping closer that is just barely visible on the ground and wall to your side, outside of the chair and blanket’s cover. In a surprising moment of clarity, you realize that he will find you within seconds and that you, at this very moment alone, have a jumpstart on choosing whether to fight, flight, or freeze your way out of this situation. Freezing won’t do you any good, and there’s no way you can overpower him, so you resolve to flee to a different part of the house the moment that he spots you. You hope that you can take him by surprise and make him pause long enough to make it out of eyesight and into another hiding spot. It’s not much, but it’s really all you can think of right now.
Before you can make any other considerations, it happens. The chair that was protectively in front of you one moment is completely gone in the next, tossed aside recklessly without even being touched. You’re metaphorically naked to the open air, and without so much as sparing a glance at your monster, you leap away from the wall as though you were shot out of a cannon and sprint full force towards the nearby staircase. You hear a sound of surprise behind you but don’t dare to look back, reaching out to grab onto the handrail before you begin bounding up the stairs, taking two at a time. As you reach the first platform and prepare to turn the corner to climb higher, you hear a loud SLAM that shakes the entire house around you. You turn your head towards the sound on instinct, and see in your peripheral vision that Beetlejuice just rammed his entire body sideways and shoulders-first into the wall at the bottom of the stairs due to how fast and recklessly he was pursuing you, like an animal that forgets to control its speed during a hunt and overshoots its leap. Within the blink of an eye, he’s crouched at the bottom of the stairs in a posture that strikes your fleeing brain as odd, before he begins crawling up the stairs on all fours at alarming speeds, bounding upwards and coming right at you. You swiftly round the corner to the higher set of stairs as he scrambles upwards, but you can tell he’s gaining on you at a pace that makes your stomach drop.
You haul yourself up the last few stairs and into the hallway that most of the bedrooms connect to. It’s a long, narrow hall with multiple doors branching off of it and an impressively tall, lovely gothic window at the end of the hall that stretches nearly from floor to ceiling and beautifully frames the rain, which is still pouring down torrentially outside and running down the glass in thick racing streams. You distantly recognize that your plan to get out of his sight and hide will not be panning out, so you quickly pivot to a new, much worse plan: get to your room and lock the door. Certainly, that will keep the monster out.
With no time to lose, you book it towards your closed door at the very end of the hallway, placed just to the right of the large window. You try to ignore the sound of an inbound demon close behind you, your feet carrying you as fast as they’re able. The hallway seems to stretch unnaturally long in front of you, and you wonder if this is one of Beetlejuice’s illusions or if your brain is just playing tricks on you in your escape. You’re trapped running endlessly as the rain in front of you buffets itself against the window, as though it too was trying to come in and attack you, until finally, your outstretched hand makes contact with your doorknob and moves to turn the knob. It jiggles rigidly against your twisting hand. Locked.
In that moment, you feel clawed hands grab your shoulders and force you down to the ground. You land solidly but not painfully, your face being firmly pushed up against the impeccably clean wood flooring. You struggle against Beetlejuice, but he answers by pressing his entire body against your backside forcefully. Your torso fully pinned down, you instinctively kick your legs and try to bend your arms backwards in an attempt to grab or push him off. Your hand finds his own arm that is braced against the floor, fruitlessly grabbing onto and pulling at it to offset his balance, but finding out very quickly just how strong he truly is. After letting you exert yourself trying to push and pull his arms with both hands, he grabs both of your wrists in one swift motion and holds them both behind your back, trapping you fully in place as you feel his hard cock press up against your ass through your clothes. A mean cackle rings out behind you, where you cannot see. You feel his cold breath wrap itself around your ear.
“Aw, aren’t you so cute trying to get away from me? But what’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the dark? Aren’t you worried that something in here might eat you alive?” His voice and breath are making your head spin, and Beetlejuice only adds to your dizziness when he decides to flip you over without warning to look at him. The large window looms high above his figure, the low light from the storm giving you just enough natural light to see details in his face now. The gleeful madness in his eyes makes your hips twitch uselessly, pinned under his full weight as he moves to better straddle you. Though he still has his usual clothes on, his cock is out and fully erect against your thigh, already wet with precum from when he was shamelessly touching himself during the hunt. “Although, you might like the thought of a demon eating you alive more than you’d care to admit, hm? You wouldn’t have agreed to my game otherwise.”
You let out a quiet groan as his hands crawl up to the hem of your shirt collar, and before you can register what he’s doing, his claws are shredding the entire shirt from top to bottom in one swift motion. The fabric tears with a salaciously loud ripping sound, revealing your chest underneath, and Beetlejuice responds by quickly bringing his mouth to your newly-exposed skin. He keeps slowly sliding the fabric off of you bit by bit with his claws, until it’s completely off of your body and his teeth begin to bite down on your collarbone. You gasp and writhe against him, shaking as his sharp teeth tease at breaking the skin of your tender flesh. He alternates between soft nibbles at your throat to harsher bites where your neck and shoulders meet, keeping you on your toes as he ravishes your half-naked body. You feel his hand come up to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them under his clawed fingers in a way that makes your back arch under him. Noticing your reaction, he moves his head down and sticks his forked tongue out to slowly drag it across your other nipple. After all of this buildup, you feel as though you’re already on the edge before he’s even taken your shorts off.
“F-fuck, Beetlejuice…” You reach your hand up to become tangled in his messy hair as usual, until his own hand catches yours by the wrist right before you can touch him.
“Watch it with my name tonight, babes,” he hisses. There’s a darkness shrouding his face right now since he’s facing away from the low light of the stormy window, his hungry expression sparking a hurricane of its own in you. “And don’t think you can try your usual tricks and turn me into your bitch again. You were mean to me and lost my game, so now you’re my bitch tonight.” He leans down to purr his next words into the side of your neck. “How’s that feel?” Before you can answer, he’s biting into the soft flesh, tongue peeking out to get a taste of your skin, and possibly a few drops of blood.
You practically mewl at his ministrations, a deeply humiliating sound that you didn’t even know you could make. If that’s a sign of what’s to come tonight, I don’t know whether to be excited or scared. I feel like I’m learning to do both at the same time really well, though.
Beetlejuice pauses his lapping at your neck to flash you a smug, knowing look. “Already need it that bad, babes? You’re so cute. Want me to go ahead make you cum for me right now?” His voice still has that unearthly quality to it, a low undertone beneath his words that turns you on more than you’d care to admit as it rumbles through your entire body and sends bursts of electricity up your spine.
“Yes…”
“Yes, what?” His eyes glimmer with joyful control. Fast learner.
“Please,” you choke out, grinding your hips upwards to try and find friction against his towering form.
Beetlejuice puts a finger up to his lips in mock thought. “Hmm, lemme think about it…uh, no.” He laughs at whatever expression immediately takes over your face at these words. “I really enjoyed hearing you ask nicely though!” If his cruel laughter isn’t enough, his cock rubbing against your thigh makes it all too obvious how much he’s reveling in being able to turn your own words against you.
“Y-you’re a dick…” You can barely spit the words out without your voice wavering and betraying your true feelings.
His eyes narrow at you, smile unchanged. “Oh-ho, am I now? And what if I left you tied up without touching you for hours on end, just a pent-up, whining mess, stuck here with nothing to fill you up? If I’m a dick now, what would I be then?” He looks up with faux thoughtfulness. “Hm, well, I guess I’d be whatever you are, since that’s basically what you did to me.” His word delivery is sharp enough to cut, but you can read his tone well enough to tell that he’s not genuinely angry about the whole situation, he wouldn’t be so willing to play with you if he was. Definitely sexually frustrated enough to add some fire to his words, though.
“Do you want me to say sorry? Because I’m not sorry.” Pushing your luck with Beetlejuice is like an extreme sport to you at this point.
The demon chuckles darkly. “Give it time.” Moving on quickly, he stands up above you, clothes suddenly vanished from his body in the blink of an eye. “Up, my little marionette.”
With a slight flick of his fingers, your body is pulled up into a kneeling position in front of where he stands. It feels as if your body is being held taut by invisible strings, the position not fully uncomfortable, but not quite how you’d settle yourself if you were in control here. Clearly, you are not.
Beetlejuice coos at you, as much as he’s able to with his warped voice. “Aww, not what you were expecting? Did you think I was just gonna fuck you right away after all that? Somebody forgot about my promises to use them for myself if I caught them.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think you had the self control to actually do any- use me…!” If you could slap a hand over your mouth, you would. You settle for snapping your jaw shut immediately, a bewildered expression surely plastered on your face. Your cheeks burn hot as you realize what you just said, or rather, what you were made to say. If the breathy tone that was sorely missing your own personal inflection on the words didn’t tip you off, Beej’s shit-eating grin above you would have. Not only do you not have control of your body, but your voice is his to play with as well.
“What’s that, my little breather? You really want me to use you?” His voice takes on another tone, one of somebody playing pretend, like how someone would pretend to talk to a toy in a game. It doesn’t talk long to realize that you’re essentially reduced to a living, breathing doll for him in this moment. Demeaning as it is, you shamefully clock that you’re weirdly into it, but you wouldn’t share this with him right now even if you could.
Your feel your mouth twist with words that come as a surprise to you upon leaving your lips yet again. “Yes, oh, please use me, BJ…! You’re so sexy, so handsome, such a big, strong demon…I wanna make you cum so many times that I lose count, I wanna be yours to use forever, I don’t even care if I get to cum at all, I don’t deserve to for being so mean to you!” Your hands run down your sides seductively of their own accord as your mouth finishes its speaking. It feels a bit silly to do, but you don’t really have much say in it at the moment, and Beetlejuice doesn’t seem to care if it’s a bit over-the-top from the way drool is currently pooling at the corners of his mouth. None of the words that you moaned out really belonged to you, but you kinda like that you can say such obscene things and just blame it on him later. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t onboard with most of them already, aside from that last statement.
Beetlejuice laughs, licking his lips with a forked tongue. “Aw, aren’t you just a good little toy?” He takes a step towards you, his dick bobbing at eye level in front of you, seemingly a bit larger than usual and…is that ribbing? Yes, you definitely aren’t mistaken, his cock has ridges crawling up all sides, swirling around in mesmerizing patterns that reach up to his swollen head. Some jut out like small, dull spikes, while others are more like closely-placed ribbed lines that remind you of a winding path. Your eyes widen at the discovery as your head leans in expectantly, and this time, you’re not sure if it was you or him that initiated that movement. To test your level of control, you try to roll your shoulders experimentally, and they obey without issue. With this, you can confidently conclude that you at least have a bit of influence over your upper half, though your legs are still forced firmly into a kneeling position.
Before you can do anything yourself with this discovery, his hand reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair and your heart rate immediately quickens in your chest. His grip is forceful but meticulous as he pulls your head forward even more, claws scratching at your scalp in a way that makes you heartbeat drop to the space between your thighs. His impatient guidance makes his neediness apparent, and you grin up at him through your eyelashes. Before he can say anything about how long you’re taking, you open your mouth and lean in to slowly lick his cock from base to tip, selfishly drinking in the shudder that you’re able to pull from him. Even when he’s supposed to be your monster, you can still find your own little ways of asserting dominance. Beetlejuice always runs chilly, but his cock feels even more so than usual, to the point where you would describe it as actively cold, though not enough to be uncomfortable. The ridges feel strange but not unpleasant against your tongue as you go in for another taste, and you shiver to think about how they would feel inside of your wet cunt. You move to mouth and kiss at his length teasingly, purposefully not giving him all of the stimulation he so clearly wants right away.
The grip on your hair tightens to the point of stinging. “If you’re not gonna do it right, I can just do it myself,” he hisses, panting above you with a poisonous glare aimed down at you below. You hardly have time to register how pretty he looks when he’s mad before he’s changed his position and begins fucking into your mouth at an absolutely brutal pace. Your eyes shoot open in shock as his hand holds your head securely in place by a fistful of hair, forcing you to breathe through your nose as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. It’s desperate, and frustrated, and monstrous. It’s exactly what he promised you. The extra size and new textures make his dick feel even more thick than usual in your mouth, and you marvel at the fact that you’re even able to fit as much of it inside as you currently are. Your eyes water as you try to suppress your gag reflex when he hits the back of your throat once, twice, three times. On the fourth time, it’s too much to fight and you gag, causing him to pause mid-thrust and look down at you quizzically. “Too much for you already, babes?” His voice is far too cheery for your taste, and his imposing form leers over you with bemused intrigue.
You tightly shake your head no, mouth too full at the moment to say any words even if your brain was capable of forming them.
Beetlejuice barks out a laugh, lightning pouring through the window to momentarily frame his facial features, all crinkled in amusement. “Ah, this is why I love you, doll. You just don’t know when to quit.” He pulls his cock from your mouth with an emphatic pop and you instead feel the unseeable pull of your limbs by his influence once again. Except, this time, he has a hold on all of you but your mouth and eyes. “But y’know, anything you can do, I can do better.”
Your body lurches forward without your permission, your right hand wrapping itself around the base of Beetlejuice’s cock and beginning to pump up and down his entire length. Meanwhile, your left hand chooses to come up to cup his balls, fondling and massaging at a separate pace. It might’ve been difficult to keep each hand’s motion and pace straight, if not for the fact that you were currently being possessed by a demon to do it. It was not unlike being asked to pat your head and rub your stomach, except that you don’t actually have to put any work into it at all and also you are having sex. Your mental comparisons are interrupted by your head positioning itself over his cock, lips parting to take him in and promptly closing to form a vacuum seal around him. Once your mouth is on him, you feel the pull of your demon’s power begin to bob your head up and down as much of his length as you’re able. Your hands continue their work, but your right hand pumps only the area between the base of his shaft and the lowest point that your lips can reach. Your ministrations continue at a fast and unwavering speed, and if your brain wasn’t completely overtaken by lust, you would be impressed with how efficiently he’s been able to turn you into his perfect little blowjob machine. You can feel that this is a persuasive but breakable possession, and it’s endearing to know that he left you an out so you could break his tether to you if you needed to. But deep down, you know you won’t be testing that ability out right now, not when he’s making such pretty noises above you.
Your eyes, maybe one of the only things still under your easy control, flit up to look at him as your mouth and hands continue their work. Beetlejuice looks down at you through lidded eyes, his concentration obviously torn between possessing you and getting his cock worked so thoroughly. His hair is a messy fire on his head, all red and fuchsia twisted together like a beautiful mixing of watercolors on a soft, shaggy canvas. He lets out an unsteady exhale above you, obviously very close, but trying to hide his usual whines and whimpers that would signal he was approaching the edge. Instead, he opts for a shaky moan from deep within his chest, unable to hold back as he begins to thrust up into your mouth to meet your lips as they come down. Just as it’s all starting to become a bit overwhelming, he shudders above you with a muffled high-pitched sound, and your movements become sloppy and ungraceful all at once as he finishes in your mouth. You could move off of his cock if you wanted to, but instead, you stay in place and greedily catch as much of his cum in your mouth as you can, shivering at how surprisingly cold it feels as you swallow it down your throat. It shouldn’t have been that shocking considering how extra chilly his dick had been, but you’re still taken aback by the temperature as you suck him dry, the slight sweetness still ever-present. Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and the demon above you seems to be quietly coming back down after his orgasm before he erupts into a guttural growl.
“Not enough, not enough,” Beetlejuice snarls, partially to himself and partially at you. “You made me wait so goddamn long, now it’s still not enough.” He squeezes his eyes shut and rakes a clawed hand through his hair, pushing it back from his furrowed brow as he vigorously shakes his head back and forth in frustration, growling and murmuring to himself. You hold yourself very still, watching silently as he seems to argue with himself about something internally. After a moment of thought, his eyelids flutter open again and he slowly turns his gaze onto you. His dark brown eyes look to be on the verge of crazed, the slits of his pupils moving down from meeting your own eyes to leer at your half-naked body. You manage to catch the way his pupils blow out wide as he continues to undress you with his eyes, despite the darkness making him seem very much like a moving shadow whenever the lightning outside pauses. Despite having cum just moments ago, he has the look of a ravenous man staring at a feast.
You sit back on your haunches, looking up at his pretty face with mock innocence. “Not enough, huh? What’re you gonna do about it?”
Beetlejuice can’t hide his grin at your insolence. “Patience, little bird. There’s really no need to goad me on, I’m not nearly done playing with you yet.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the irony of him telling you to be patient, ignoring the fact that your stomach is currently filled with butterflies at his words. His strings of control now fully dissipated, he steps forward with a renewed power and looks you over with a fanged smirk. He looks for a moment as though he wants to say something, but instead, he moves to crouch down to your level and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss rocks you to your core, all tongue and teeth on his end, which you do your best to imitate. In the end, it’s only more clear how horribly outmatched you currently are, his strength and demonic features easily overpowering your pathetic human body. As he shoves his forked tongue into your mouth roughly, you are struck by the chilling realization that every time you’ve been taking control up until now, it’s only because Beetlejuice has been letting you. The thought is enough to make you clench tightly around nothing, aching with desire.
After he’s satisfied with the kiss, he pulls back from your lips and reaches down to grab your legs by the calves, pulling them out from under you in one swift motion and making you fall backwards onto your butt with an undignified thump. He settles himself between your legs, grabbing the soft skin on the inner sides of your knees and spreading them wide to make room for his larger form. He continues to spread so far that you can feel your hamstrings stretching, a dull but satisfying ache in your muscles as they tighten at their limit. Once he’s carved a space for himself, Beetlejuice slowly begins to crawl his hands upwards from where they rest by your knees along your inner thighs, his claws lightly skating across your sensitive skin. You squirm and giggle lightly at the sensation, simultaneously too much and not enough. He finally reaches the bottom of your shorts and, wasting no time, shreds through the fabric as if it were tissue paper. The pieces of what used to be your shorts fall pathetically from your body, no longer recognizable anything but scraps anymore. As they fall off, you recognize with surprise that your underwear was also fully ripped off of you in the same movement, fluttering down to the floor in tattered pieces and leaving you fully naked.
Beetlejuice’s monstrous persona drops ever so slightly as he can’t quite hide the sheepish expression that finds its way onto his face. “Oh, oops? Overshot that. Hope those weren’t your favorite pair or anything.” He gets over his moment with a devious chuckle and is quickly back to studying your fully exposed body, all spread out in front of him and ready to be devoured. “Gotta make sure you’re ready to take me, strictly business here, y’know. Try not to moan like a bitch in heat too much. ‘S embarrassing for you.” As he’s speaking, you watch Beetlejuice lift his right hand and slowly retract the claws of his index and middle finger until they’re completely gone, only his regular short black nails where the claws once were. Without leaving you any time to make a snarky comment, he’s plunging them into your entrance.
“Ah…!” You keen as you finally receive the stimulation you’ve been craving all night, even if it is so much all at once. When the shock of him pressing into you quickly fades, it’s only immediately replaced by another, even more jarring shock: his fingers are ice cold inside of you. You yelp, unsure whether to pull away or beg him to push them farther inside. His unnaturally chilly fingers are curling against your walls, making your hips stutter and eyes squeeze shut as you try to steady yourself from the sensory overload.
“Aww, what’s the matter?” he coos with a sickly sweet smile, sticking a third finger inside of your pussy. You arch your back and whine desperately in response. “You look kinda conflicted there, babes…too cold for you?”
You wrestle for control of your words. “N-no,” you eventually spit out at him. It’s a sad attempt at lying to a very perceptive demon.
Beetlejuice grins. “You’re a stubborn little breather, aren’t you?” He keeps rubbing against the spot that has you seeing stars like he owns it. “That, or you’re just a freak who gets off on everything I do. Because I honestly did this to be an asshole, but you are definitely liking it way more than I expected. I can see it in your cute little face.” You tighten around his fingers as he speaks. “Heh, and that too.”
“Fuck off…” It’s a new kind of embarrassing to have Beetlejuice call you a freak for getting off on something, but honestly, that just gets you off even more, proving his point. You rock your hips up to meet him, unable to hold back your little gasps as you do. You’re trapped between pleasure and pain, the cold refusing to ebb as he continues fingering you roughly. You squirm helplessly under the seemingly endless barrage of conflicting sensations.
His left hand is suddenly on your lower belly, pressing down to keep you in place. “Quit fuckin’ moving, or I’m gonna tie you down,” he growls, not letting up on his pace as he chastises you.
“Hold me down yourself,” you moan, and the words are out before you even get a chance to think. Those were definitely your own words, though.
The demon’s eyes light up immediately. “Ohh, I see, you want me to hold you down and fingerfuck you ‘til you beg for mercy? Well, if that’s what you want.”
He’s behind you in the blink of an eye, erection fully hard once again if the way it presses up against your naked back is any indication. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and lifts them up and back to wrap around his neck, still bound together tightly. It’s almost a romantic pose, with your body reclined back against his and your arms holding his head close to your body, his nose pressed into your neck and beard prickling against it as well. His free hand snakes around your waist to press your torso even closer against him before returning his fingers to your dripping cunt. The freezing pleasure returns, a feeling you had been dreading and felt so empty without. He’s pumping his fingers into you at the same quick pace, picking up right where he left off. He presses into your clit with his thumb, chuckling darkly at the cry you let out as he starts rubbing teasing circles into it.
“G-gonna cum…” Your humiliating whimpers only seem to encourage him into moving faster.
“Yeah? You close? I bet you are. You’ve been so wet all night…I could smell it, got all mixed up in my head, wanted to pin you down and take you so bad for hours…” Beetlejuice’s chin is resting on your shoulder, and his long tongue slips out to slither down at your neck and to your chest again. It’s like a prehensile appendage with how it moves and wraps itself around your nipples, but with such a light ghost of a touch against your hard buds that it causes goosebumps to spread themselves across your entire chest. You’d be defiantly squirming against him if not for the fact that your body was being held completely immobile by the demon. His wrist and strong forearm press insistently against your stomach and pubic region, keeping you locked in place with his otherworldly strength. Instead, you just allow the needy sounds to pour out of your mouth, unable to focus on anything besides how utterly and deliciously trapped you are and how fast your orgasm is approaching due to his dexterous fingers. You feel yourself cresting that final hill before he sends you crashing over the peak, your body attempting to fuck yourself down onto his fingers even harder despite your trappings. You can’t see him as your orgasm rocks your body, but you hear him hmph approvingly behind you and can easily imagine the smarmy look on his face at how much he can make you come undone with his hands alone.
You’re still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm when Beetlejuice swiftly disappears from behind you and reappears with his head between your legs, giving you no time to react before his mouth is between your legs, licking and sucking loudly. You squeal at the pleasure flooding your senses again so soon and squeeze your legs together involuntarily in reaction.
Beetlejuice lifts his head a bit with a hazy smile. “Sorry babes, couldn’t help myself. Just needed a little taste…” You whine as he sucks at your clit forcefully to punctuate his words before pulling his body back up to kneel in front of you. “But I do think you’re just about ready for me after that.”
“Please…” you muster, your head swimming with pleasure. You’re not even completely sure what you’re begging for, but your demon seems to enjoy it.
“Aren’t you so good for me, my little breather? Even when I’m using you for myself, so adorable…” He grabs your chin with his thumb and the forefinger that was pumping inside of you moments ago, appraising whatever expression is plastered on your face and holding your head in place. “It’s not gonna make me be any nicer to you, but it’ll probably make me fill you up faster.” Wasting no time, he pulls back from your face and begins to line his cock up with your entrance.
His words make you realize how quickly Beetlejuice was able to get you to roll over and play nice for him. It’s truthfully embarrassing the speed at which you folded, especially after the multiple times that you’ve teased him now for doing the exact same thing. Maybe he’s right, you’re more like him than you thought. This line of thought passing into your mind reignites your defiant spirit almost instantly.
“Y’know, for all that talk, you kinda suck at being mean to me.” It’s hard to keep the corners of your lips from being pulled upwards when he slowly tilts his head at your words in disbelief. “The meanest thing you could think to do is make me cum my brains out around your somewhat-chilly fingers. Kinda sweet for an evil demon, that’s all. Can’t bring yourself to do any worse?”
Beetlejuice’s cute expression of positive bewilderment begins melting into one of resolve mixed with pure, carnal desire. “You make such terrible decisions sometimes, it’s so fuckin’ hot.” He punctuates this statement by thrusting his cock up into you, stealing the next witty retort from your lips and leaving only a breathy gasp in its absence. It’s an intense stretch over his morphed length, and even after being worked open by his fingers, the sudden penetration is more than enough to shut you up as you adjust. He grabs your neck, firmly enough to tilt your head as he pleases. “I’m gonna eat you alive, little bird.”
You meet his blazing-hot gaze readily. “Promise?”
Beetlejuice grins as he chooses for once to let his actions do the talking, his only response being to start fucking into you at a quick and steady pace. His cock is clearly bigger than usual, but still fits without issue after the first stretch. You note that it’s the texture that makes the experience just as unique and fantastic as you’d hoped, his ridges rubbing against your walls as though they were designed to pleasure you specifically (and for all you know, this could be absolutely true). The cold remains a common factor throughout the encounter, and one that you certainly don’t hate, despite its initial purpose. The cold spreads out from your core to crawl all over your body, reminding you just how much influence he has over you. It’s all so strange and wonderful and it’s having no trouble in making you see stars already.
Your back is pressed firmly against the floor, giving you another beautiful view of Beetlejuice framed in front of the tall window as he sets a rhythm with his motions. Lightning highlights the outline of his frame every few seconds, visibly straining as he tries to give you more without losing himself in you completely. You try to take a second and memorize how pretty his face is in this moment, really commit everything here to memory. The way his eyebrows knit together as he works at opening you up, biting at his lip with sharp fangs that you assume must hurt, but he gives no indication if it does. The hand that was lightly gripping at your throat loses its solid grip as his fingers stretch out and stroke down your neck, his palm spreading wide and coming to rest directly above your heart, claws resting along the length of your collarbone. Every thrust into you, every touch of his hands on your warm skin, it’s all so maddening and cruel and perfect all at once.
His eyes peek open slightly and flit to your face, lids still half-covering the pools of dark brown. “Quit lookin’ at me all sweet like that, you’re the one who said you wanted rough mean monster sex.”
“Sorry,” you breathe, averting your eyes from his lovely visage to get back into character but unable to hide the way the corners of your lips curl up fondly.
“You’d better be.” He huffs with a smirk, before putting the charm back on. “Now, you said you could keep up with a demon, so let’s see if you were right or if I can make a liar outta you tonight.” He practically spits the word “liar,” clearly both something you should be ashamed of being and something that you desperately want him to prove that you were when you said that. He moves both of his hands down to your hips for leverage, grabbing onto the skin so forcefully that you’re certain it’ll leave a bruise. With you secure in his grasp, he’s holding your lower half steady so he can keep you perfectly in place while he fucks you, an anchor to you for your monster.
Still riding off the high of your recent first orgasm, you can feel your second building already at an exponential rate. You gasp as your walls clench around him, tightening around his cock as it keeps brushing against just the right spot inside of you, the ridges doing everything right for you. Before you know it, you’re already cumming around his dick, the squelches of him continuing to fuck you through your orgasm sounding utterly obscene with how wet you are for him. You ride it out with small moans and praises pouring from your lips, until the fountain of your words begins to run dry as he continues to fuck you at the same unwavering pace.
“You just came again? Okay, well, I haven’t cum again yet, so you can just be fuckin’ patient.” You feel that dawning horror that you’ve been waiting so long for wash over you as you realize that he does not in fact plan on giving you any semblance of a break here. Instead, he grabs both of your thighs and pushes them up to fold back on top of your body, removing the obstacle for him and ending with you opening yourself even wider for him.
“B-Beetlejuice,” you gasp, the overstimulation beginning to take hold as the last of your previous orgasm ebbs away, causing you to shudder and twitch involuntarily as he refuses to let up in his motions. “I’m so- FUCK!” Your words are unable to leave your tongue as his mouth begins biting at your neck insistently. His mouth moves with no rhythm compared to his thrusts, all wild instinct with no discernible pattern as he kisses and bites from your collarbone to your jawline, savoring the taste of you and the sounds you make at the overwhelming, overlapping sensations.
“You say something, babes? Couldn’t quite hear ya…” He switches it up by nibbling along your throat before ending his trail with a harsh bite to the side of your neck. “Were you gonna say that I was right and that I’m too much for your little human body to handle?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his teeth on you. “Shit, I take it back, you really are evil.” He would be the one to make sex into a competition. A game, your mind chimes in to correct you. Always the games with him. You have been quite the fan of his rigged games tonight, why change your tune now when he’s ruining you so well? “Don’t you dare stop.”
Your words make him chuckle and become only rougher in his movements. “Gonna fill you up,” Beetlejuice pants as his teeth graze the tip of your ear, clearly on the edge himself. “Gonna cum inside you ‘til you can’t take anymore. Bet you’d like that. Bet you wanna have my cum dripping out of your needy little cunt for days.” Your answer comes out as nothing more than a strangled, horny sound, but it seems to get your agreement across as the demon grins wildly, his thrusts becoming erratic as his eyes are flooded with pure desire looking down at you. His head falls to rest on your shoulder as he continues, and you can feel him mouthing something into your skin, but it takes a few moments before you can make out what he’s saying, faint as a whispered prayer. “Mine, mine, mine.” He punctuates each word with a forceful thrust, your heart somehow finding a way to race even faster at this realization. His final utterance of the word is choked into a shaky moan halfway through, his predictably yet still shockingly cold cum filling you to the brim in the best way. It’s way more than you expected, pumping inside of you at high speeds and completely filling you with him. If your mind were a bit sharper right now, you’d probably marvel at just how much there is, you can tell just by feel the practically obscene amounts that are leaking out of your entrance and onto the floor. You close your eyes for a moment to try and bring yourself back to Earth. Your muscles burn with exertion, and you can’t stop the full-body tremors that keep wracking your smaller frame. Not that you have enough energy to even attempt to suppress them.
You don’t have more than a moment’s rest before you feel something cool and slightly wet rubbing against your leg, and you crack open your eyes and see a thick, black and white appendage prodding at you. The striped extremity crawls over your body slowly, caressing your outer thigh before stretching itself over you to pet at your inner thigh as well, wrapping you up in its grasp. You can only think to respond with a perplexed gaze at the thing before looking up at Beetlejuice inquisitively.
He looks all too proud of himself above you, the appendage clearly sprouting from him, more specifically, somewhere behind him…his back perhaps, but it’s hard to tell in this lighting. “Hey, I’ve never shown you my tentacles, have I? At least, I haven’t shown you what they can really do…” When your gaze looks back down, two more tentacles have joined the first, stroking and caressing at your slick flesh.
“B-Beetlejuice, it’s too much, I don’t know if I can…” Your body is simultaneously crying out for rest yet also desperately vying for the attention of the tentacles as they rub themselves over your form teasingly.
He actually has the gall to snicker. “Oh come on now, you can take much more than that, don’t be a quitter. Unless…you’re really admitting you can’t keep up with me? That you’re not as unaffected as you might make yourself out to be? That you were wrong and are now in over your little head?” He pokes you in the center of your forehead to emphasize his teasing in the most annoying way possible.
As though immediately possessed by a different sort of force, you feel a second wind rushing into your entire body, filling you with a new, stubborn resolve. “In your dreams, hellspawn.” You meet his eyes obstinately, hoping that your demeanor portrays yourself as less dazed and fucked-out-of-your-mind than you really are right now. In the end, your competitiveness will always win.
He chuckles, looking rather unfazed by your sharp response. “Still got that much of a fighting spirit, huh? Bet I can break that.”
At his command, three more tentacles emerge from behind him and move towards your reclined body. With six of them visible to you now, they move almost hypnotically as they stroke at your skin, all six moving as if of their own free will as they each take to a different task. You feel two wrap around each of your calves, and one more secures your wrists together. They pull you up to sit on your haunches, the cool wood flooring below starting to feel less pleasant than it did when he first caught you and pressed you against it. Your arms are pulled up and over your head, and you simply let them pull your limbs wherever they see fit without fight. You’re perched as though about to ride an invisible dick, and the position makes you very aware of how gravity is causing more of his cum to slowly drip out of you, mixed with your own wetness. The remaining three tentacles prod at your stretched torso, two settling to rub your nipples gently while the other one crawls down toward your hips. You keen at the contact, watching the slick appendages delicately rub over your chest and wondering exactly how much direct control Beetlejuice has over them versus how much they’re piloted by just subconscious desire without direction. Your eyes flicker up to take him in for the first time since being restrained, and his expression is one of a man watching a most riveting show, cartoonish tongue lolling slightly out of his involuntary smile at your current predicament. He’s crouched across from you in a similar yet freer position, mirroring your body but leaning forward to really take it all in. You feel the free tentacle begin to snake its way to your stomach, sending a thrill up your spine as it strokes down, down, down, until it’s right where you need it. You whimper wordlessly at the contact, mind swirling with sensation.
“God, I’m so happy you’re the kind of sick degenerate that’s into this,” Beetlejuice breathes, making you shivers as he tugs at his half-hard cock shamelessly. Despite being well-aware of what BJ told you about demon sex drives, it’s sort of blowing your mind to see him so immediately ready to go like this, again and again, acting as though everything before was nothing more than warm-up. Damn. No wonder he is the way that he is.
Taking you out of your thoughts is the tentacle giving attention to the space between your thighs, its stark black-and-white surface contrasting with your skin beneath it even in the window’s dim light. The tentacles holding your legs spread them wider to make room, and the appendage responds by bringing its tip up to your clit, pressing in gently but with enough pressure to have your body at full attention. Just when you think you’re spent, he’s got you bucking your hips under his touch again, desperate for more of his attention. Beetlejuice seems more than pleased with your reaction.
“I-I can’t believe you’ve held out on me so long,” you gasp, the tentacle dragging itself torturously slow as it traces up and down from your clit to your opening. “I mean, it’s only been like, a week, but that’s practically 1000 years in terms of your patience.” The tentacles stroking your nipples instead tug at them abruptly, swiftly putting you back in your place with a shaky whimper.
Beetlejuice looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a dumb smile. “Aww, I’m so glad to hear ya like ‘em. I didn’t wanna freak you out too soon, but I should’ve known you’d be enough of a whore to just bend over and let me take you however I wanted to.” You keen as you feel the tentacle on your clit move to your entrance, all wet with some nondescript substance that might’ve grossed you out if he showed it to you in any other context. There’s hardly even a stretch compared to his cock as it pushes into you, but it still reaches exactly where it needs to with how dextrous and long it is. “You wanted to be chased. You wanted to be caught. And yeah, I know you wanted to be used. How could you not, when you take it sooooo well?” His lovely purring words rattle around in your head as the tentacle inside of you pumps itself into your clenched core, rubbing exactly where it knows you want it to and making you grit your teeth as though about to go mad. “God, you’re so perfect. Look so fuckin’ pretty right now, don’t know what I did to deserve you. I won’t let you down, I’m gonna milk every orgasm you have out of you and not gonna stop ‘til you’re absolutely ruined, babes. You’re gonna regret asking me to be meaner to you.”
You whine miserably at his words, his own excitement and arousal only amplifying yours. You hump against the tentacle as it keeps up its regular pace, riding it like a cock as much as you can with your arms and legs restrained. Taking another glance at Beetlejuice, you notice that another tentacle had sprouted from his back when you were lost in his words and came down to rest on his own dick, curling itself around the length from base to tip and moving itself up and down rapidly, getting him off as he leans back and watches you intently. You grind yourself down onto the tentacle inside of you harder at this, getting off to the image of him being caressed by his own tentacles just as much as he is for you. He notices you reacting in this way and flashes you a grin, the unmistakable grin of someone who’s all too happy to be ogled. Damn exhibitionist. He then lets out a very familiar whimper, sharply contrasting his dominant front from a moment ago. You could recognize that specific sound anywhere.
“Are you fucking yourself in the ass with your own tentacles?” Your voice is strained, but the tone is somewhere between incredulous and amused.
His whimper melts into a breathy moan, his teeth snapping off the end of the sound by clicking together into a satisfied grin. “You know me so well, doll.” Sure enough, Beetlejuice leans forward and arches his back from where he had been resting on his haunches in front of you, and you can see another tentacle placed behind him that is thrusting up into his ass at a steady speed, the first tentacle continuing to pump his cock at a breakneck pace.
The mere sight of Beetlejuice getting so thoroughly worked by his own tentacles as your own stimulation refuses to let up is pleasurable enough to make you clench tightly around the appendage, your legs shaking as you cum around it and get roughly fucked through your orgasm. You feel your ears ringing as this one rolls out of you in waves, feeling so good and yet so, so much. It takes its time running through your entire body, but as it begins to ebb, you whine as you realize that the tentacles aren’t letting up. They continue to perform their motions like a dutiful machine, rubbing at your nipples, fucking up into your thoroughly used pussy, holding you perfectly in place despite your squirming. You’re still completely open to the appendages, no way to even curl up and hide yourself from their touches.
“Beetlejuice…” you practically sob, overstimulation causing your entire body to shake as the tentacle rubs itself against your g-spot, prodding at you for more as if it doesn’t understand why you’re so spent.
From your position, you can see the demon laugh at your predicament. “Aw, poor little thing. You’ve got about one more in you before you totally break, I bet.” You choke out an anguished sound at his cooing words, plus the fact that the pace of the tentacles hasn’t let up in the slightest, and he regards you with a raised brow. “Color?”
You take in a shuddering breath, knowing that you could easily end things here with a single word. But goddamnit, you are not giving him the satisfaction. You’ll go until exhaustion forcibly takes you if you must, your pride demands it. “Green.”
The unbearably overwhelming sensations are immediately made worth it by the utterly flabbergasted look that crosses your demon’s face, eyes widening as he receives an answer that he clearly didn’t expect. It’s quickly replaced by an impressed little smirk, all lust and pride and amusement wrapped into one sharp smile. “Heh, yep, that’s the breather I fell for. You’re too much of a stubborn little glutton for punishment to quit, just like me. Well, lucky for you, that’s in no short supply right now.” He moves toward you from where he had been leaned back on his haunches, and it’s immediately clear by the spattering of glowing green on his stomach that he himself has cum at least once under the tentacle that continues rubbing at his cock, and you feel a slight twinge of regret that you didn’t get to see his debauched expression as he came. To lift your spirits, you silently file away the idea of having him tied up and forced to cum over and over by his own tentacles while you get to watch as a fun idea for later. For now, Beetlejuice moves up to watch you closer, bringing his body right in front of your trapped form as the tentacles keep working the both of you.
You squirm as much as the restraints and your energy levels allow under his gaze. He’s watching your face intently, as though trying to see something in your slack-jawed expression. Then, you’re tilting backwards, as if doing a trust fall that you have no choice but to trust in as your body leans backwards, knees spread apart but still firmly on the floor as your back stretches tightly. Another tentacle comes to support your neck and back as you continue to be coaxed backwards by your restraints, until your knees lift ever so slightly off of the ground and you’re practically being cradled in a tentacle hammock with your limbs still restrained, but as comfortable as they can be in this situation.
“What a perfect little present all wrapped up for me after that long chase…” Beetlejuice briefly surveys the situation, his patience clearly maxed out by now but perception still sharp as ever as he scans you for any reaction. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because you see only a joyful flash of teeth before he’s biting your inner thigh and ripping more pitiful sounds from your tired throat against your will.
You flinch and whimper a bit at the sudden piercing pain, but you couldn’t move away if you wanted to. In all honesty, you probably couldn’t bring yourself to move even if you weren’t being restrained, not at this point. Another bite to your thigh, slightly gentler and closer to where you need his mouth. You dare a glance down at him and immediately find yourself trying to stifle your tremors and trembling, his firm grasp on you as intoxicating as the image of a demon looking so absolutely possessive between your thighs, in every sense of the word.
His smile is as all-consuming as ever. “And I think I’ll get a better taste of my prey now, heh.” His tongue is pressed against your clit within the second, the entire length of it slipping out of his mouth for nothing more than to rile you up. He knows it will; it did so well the first time, and every time after, and it unsurprisingly works like a charm today too. He laps at you hungrily, his long tongue having already proven itself to be perfect for eating you out. The fact that it now has a perfect little fork at the end only adds to the experience. You’ve simply had to make peace with the fact that his demonic features have completely ruined you for anyone else, and you can’t bring yourself to be upset about that at all. Not right now, when his forked tongue is stroking up and down your clit at the perfect pace, your trapped hands grabbing at the tentacles beneath them for stability as though they were bedsheets. They only tremble and continue to ooze even more as you grip them, a strange but clear sign of pleasure if Beetlejuice’s rumbling groans weren’t obvious enough.
He allows his tongue to wander between your clit and your entrance, and it’s so long that it can reach both spots at once when pressed up against you. He lets a whiny moan slip out as he keeps up the pace. “Fuck…I can taste myself in you…hey, you’re welcome for being so delicious…” Of course he’s still finding a way to brag, even with his mouth busy. You wouldn’t be shocked if he figured out a way to continue working your clit while also tongue fucking you, and then gloat how talented he is at getting you off without changing his pace at all. He’s a talented multitasker, clearly.
You’d normally have a much more eloquent comeback to his boasting comments, but you’re honestly shocked at how much Beetlejuice has absolutely fucked you out of your mind by now. You can barely string together a complete thought, let alone speak a coherent sentence. You feel like you’ve been thoroughly used up, in the best way. From the moment he offered you that deal, you wanted to be defiled by a monster until you’re nothing but a fucked-out little plaything for him to use as he pleases, and he has more than honored that wish. The combination of this thought and the maddening feeling of him lapping at your overstimulated clit is enough to somehow bring you back to the edge again, whining as your muscles tense one final time.
Your body language does not go unnoticed by your monster. “Aw, you gonna cum?” You let out a pathetic whine in response, and he snorts. “Yeah, you would be cumming again. Slut.” He pauses his ministrations to look you in the eye from below, intense lust clouding his pretty eyes. “Say my name, beautiful.”
You practically keen at the sudden denial of stimulation, but do your best to abide. “Beetlejuice…” Your voice is a sinful moan, more shameless and explicit than you’ve ever heard from within yourself. You can’t even bring yourself to feel ashamed or self-conscious about it with how fast Beetlejuice grabs your hips with his sharp claws and thrusts his cock back into you, clearly on the precipice again himself. A few quick, deep thrusts is all it takes for him to be once again filling you up with his load, shaking as he pumps you full of it as though afraid you’d lost too much after the first time he thoroughly bred your cunt. The combination of being so perfectly full of his cum again, the image of the demon holding onto you with both hands and tentacles from above as he finds release, and the feeling of being so completely claimed by the feral monster inside of you is enough to push you over the edge. Your final orgasm tears through you recklessly, just as wild and destructive as the last to your exhausted human body. Waves of tingly pleasure rush through every nerve in your body, clenching and relaxing your muscles as the feeling ebbs and flows throughout your form. Time stands still for you, and you can barely register Beetlejuice pulling out beyond the sensations still rolling through you. As it starts to dissipate, your ears are ringing again and- oh, you can’t see. That’s probably not good. You blink harshly, feeling as though you’re in the aftermath of some kind of explosion to throw off your senses this majorly.
After a few moments of muffled blackness and awful ringing sound, you see bright rays of reality begin to peek through as your body adjusts back to normal. You see a fuzzy image above you, towering over your frame in a way that feels more concerned than menacing, and as the picture begins to clear, you notice the figure’s mouth moving. Your mind returning, you attempt to focus in on what he could be trying to say to you with such a worried little face. Luckily, the world’s sound begins to fade back in as he continues to speak quickly.
“-ey? Hey? C’mon babes, you with me? You’re freakin’ me the fuck out right now, talk to me so I know you’re not heading into the light, please.”
“I’m good,” you murmur, still feeling a bit overwhelmed in coming back to Earth after everything. The tentacles have disappeared in however long it took for your vision to return, and Beetlejuice looks decidedly less monster-y than he did moments ago. The red has all but vanished from his hair, leaving a dusting of dark pink fading into a lighter gradient, with slight yellow streaks of nervousness, and he looks significantly less big and sharp overall as his nervous eyes flicker over your form that sits on the floor below.
Beetlejuice leans down to hold your head to his chest. “Oh, Jesus fuckin’ Christ (Y/N)! You were supposed to say something if it got to be too much!” He pulls back to swiftly look you over. “Gonna give me a heart attack when I’m already dead over here. Jeez.”
You giggle, too exhausted to fully laugh at his antics. “I’m fine, wasn’t too much. A little overwhelming near the end maybe, but I really liked it.”
He snorts. “Well, yeah, that much I could tell. You freaked me out though, I thought I might’ve accidentally factory reset you from fuckin’ ya too rough or something.”
You wave your hand dramatically in a dismissive fashion as you move to sit up, your stomach and thighs shaking with the effort as though you had just finished a particularly brutal set of sit-ups. Well, that’s one way to get in a core workout. “I mean, I’m the one who wanted to try and hold my own against a supernatural being at full power so bad. Dumb mortal physical limitations getting in my way.” You hmph at the idea of human limits, before leaning forward to place your hand on Beetlejuice’s own. “But you did great baby, that was everything I could’ve wanted when you first pitched that idea. I hope it was everything you wanted, too.”
Beetlejuice’s expression softens as he looks at your hand on his own. “Yeah, I had a great time too. Clearly.” His eyes dart down to your utterly spent body almost sheepishly before returning to your own eyes, a shine of strong affection behind his gaze as he speaks in a much more delicate tone. “I really love you a lot. Thanks for bein’ the way you are.” With that, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, a far cry from the roughness that he embodied minutes ago. It’s so tender that his lips only end up lightly grazing your own, and the feeling of his soft lips moving like a whisper on you is the sweetest of kind thank you’s.
“Anything for my sweet little demon,” you breathe, reveling in the mere closeness of him in this ultra-affectionate state.
Beetlejuice shoots you a cute smile before leaning down to pick up your exhausted body as though it weighs nothing to him. “Oh, and if it’s any consolation, you totally earned bragging rights for lasting that long in the sack. I honestly thought you’d tap out after, like, two rounds, and then we’d cuddle.” He tosses and hoists you up into a more secure position in his arms before he starts walking toward your door.
You grab onto the flesh of his shoulders to steady yourself. “What can I stay? l have a strong force of will when I’m with you.” With just a look from the demon, your previously locked door swings open without a care, and he carries you right into your dark room. You whip around and shoot him an inquisitive look. “Wait, was that you before? The lock?”
“Oh, is it that surprising that I outwitted you?” He moves to bite your shoulder teasingly, now more playful than menacing but still with enough teeth to command your attention.
“Ah…a little.”
One of the hands currently wrapped under your legs slides up to pinch your ass, causing you to yelp and Beetlejuice to laugh. “You may be hot shit in your own mind, but never forget that you’re easy prey to a demon like me, babes.”
***
“Delia-uhhhhhh, when’s the popcorn gonna be ready?” Beetlejuice languishes about on the sofa in front of the TV with no shame, flopping his arms over the side to look towards the kitchen.
You roll your eyes from where you stand behind the couch, then move to swat at his dangling arms playfully. “Don’t be a nuisance unless you’re gonna help, hellspawn.”
A somewhat-frazzled redheaded figure appears in the open doorway to the kitchen. “Now, Beetlejuice, if life is a bank, then patience is a virtue that’s worth investing some of your spare change into!”
He slumps. “You should know metaphors and me don’t mix by now. Oh, and could you please horrifically burn the next bag for me? I like it crispy crunchy.”
“Ugh, and make the whole house stink again? I don’t think so,” Lydia retorts, finding her place on the adjacent single-seater couch and getting cozy, her gothy PJs still keeping her aesthetic together even before bed.
“I don’t expect you to understand fine cuisine, Lyds,” he huffs, crossing his arms petulantly and slouching down into his seat further, making his legs reach all the way to the other end of the couch.
You laugh and lace your finger through his hair from above gently. “Quit taking up a whole sofa by yourself and come help me put snacks into cute little bowls for everyone.”
Like a switch flipped, he’s immediately on his feet and following behind you obediently, his previous body language evaporated. “Coming, dear…!”
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a bewildered expression from Lydia and could swear you hear her mutter, “Demon whisperer…” to herself in a tone that reads as half-accusatory and half-awestruck as you walk into the kitchen.
As you enter the room, you see Delia at the far side of the long counter furiously stirring a bowl filled with some snack that she must’ve quickly whipped up. “Oh, if you two could just put the popcorn and chips into some of the big sharing bowls while I finish this vegan cheese dip, that would help!”
“Sure can do, Delia,” you respond, opening the high cabinet closest to the door to grab the giant cartoon print snack bowls that everyone likes to use. You hand one off to Beetlejuice and keep one for yourself. “You handle the chips, bug.”
“I wanted to do the popcorn,” he argues back, putting on his brattiest tone.
“I’m not letting you anywhere near the popcorn. I know you.” You shoot him a faux mean look, and he doesn’t even try to hide the smile that spreads across his face. You ignore your desire to give him a kiss and instead, as you hear the popping slowing down on the popcorn within the microwave, open the door and trade it out for another bag. After pressing start, you open the top of the finished bag and pour it into your bowl, which is bright fuchsia and decorated with little cherries. You find your eyes strangely glued to it as you pour.
“It’s better when it’s blackened. That’s how you truly unlock the…complex flavor profile. See, I told you, I really have been watching those cooking shows on TV and learning valuable new things about the art of le chef.” The bag of chips on the counter lift up and begin pouring themselves into his bowl without Beetlejuice so much as looking back at them. Instead, he’s looking right at you as you pour the hot snack in the bowl, the tantalizing smell filling up the whole room. “Something really awesome about your bowl there that I’m not seeing?”
You manage to tear your eyes away from the bowl to look at him, suddenly realizing with mild embarrassment what it had been subconsciously reminding you of that had you so enraptured. “Uh, well, I can’t ever look at this pretty shade of fuchsia in a normal context the same way ever again, so I guess you kinda Pavlov’s dog’d me.” It’s hard to hide the laughter bubbling up in your lowered voice, having to hear yourself admit to something so…ridiculous.
Beetlejuice, on the other hand, seems to view this as much more of a personal victory than a weird observation on your part. He snickers to himself before leaning in close to you flirtatiously. “Oh, babes, I really am living rent-free in that head of yours, huh? I knew I was good, but I didn’t know I was ‘make you think of getting dicked down when you’re making snacks’ good…”
“Behave.” You shoot daggers at him with your sharp gaze, and can’t help but feel like you’re giving him exactly the reaction he wants out of you. Dating Beetlejuice openly hasn’t changed too much of the dynamic, aside from you having to keep him and his lack of a filter on a short leash if you wanted to maintain your remaining shred of dignity.
The demon returns your gaze with his own unconvincingly innocent look. “I’m behaving, I’m a good boy, see? I poured the chips nicely and everything.” The whininess in his voice is going to make you insane, you know it. He then looks over your shoulder at the counter. “Oh hey, I think your popcorn’s done now.”
You whip your head around and are smacked in the face with the horrible smell of burning popcorn. “Oh shit!” You pull the microwave door open as fast as you can, but when you grab the bag and pull it open by the corners, the little puffs are burnt to a completely unsalvageable degree.
Beetlejuice gasps. “Babes, did you make this one just for me…?” He dramatically places a hand over where his heart would be. “Thank you!” He plants a quick but rough kiss on your lips before grabbing the bag and pouring it into his own personal striped bowl that appeared out of seemingly nowhere. You, on the other hand, are left reeling from the kiss and only able to wonder if he had been distracting you on purpose.
Delia makes a sound of disgust from the other end of the kitchen, and you look over to see her taking the dip out of the oven with a scrunched-up face. “Oh God, it smells awful in here! Tell me you didn’t put Beetlejuice in charge of the popcorn.”
Beetlejuice practically cackles. “Nope, my sweet little meatsack did this allllllll on their own.” With that, he proudly takes his personal bowl out with him to the living room, leaving you behind to pick up the pieces.
Feeling utterly duped, you grab the half-full bowl of popcorn and follow him out of the kitchen. By now, though Charles has gone past you to the kitchen to help Delia, Adam and Barbara have joined Lydia in finding a comfy spot on one of the many chairs (the family reached a point where they really had to invest in more seating after getting such a full house). Their attention is on the TV mounted above the fireplace as Adam swipes through a variety of potential movies to watch, at least, until the two of you arrive.
Lydia plugs her nose. “Gross, why’d you let him burn it, dude?”
Beetlejuice laughs and pipes in for you. “Hey, nobody can resist the power of the B-Man! Not even this one.” He tosses a piece of charcoal-colored popcorn into his mouth for emphasis.
You roll your eyes and offer Lydia a defeated shrug before settling onto the nearby loveseat, placing the big popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the TV. “I tried, kid. Unfortunately, he is still an absolute pest even if you happen to be in a relationship.”
Beetlejuice crosses his arms proudly, his bowl hanging in midair where he left it. “Oh, you want pest? Good, I needed a seat anyway.” He immediately plops down in your lap, laying his entire form on top of your reclined body.
“Crushing…me….!” You try to push back against his back unsuccessfully, finding him firmly planted on top of you. “There’s an empty seat right next to me you dummy!” It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be, but ghost or not, he is certainly a big boy.
He slides around to sit in your lap sideways, his legs resting on the empty loveseat space but all of his weight still perfectly balanced on your lap. “Is this better, schnookums? Honeybunny? Light of my death?” He bats his eyelashes at you sweetly. He is not being sweet.
“You two need to get a room,” Lydia says, looking even more disgusted than she was with the burnt popcorn smell.
“We have one, it’s upstairs,” Beetlejuice counters.
“I have one,” you correct him.
“Babes, what’s yours is mine, remember?”
You promptly shift your lap and dump him onto the seat next to you unceremoniously. He lands with the amount of grace that you’d expect.
“Alright everyone, the dip is ready!” Delia’s singsong voice rings out as she and Charles bring in the rest of the food from the kitchen, and Delia plops the dip onto the coffee table by the chips. “I got the recipe online!” She says this fact like it’s a fun little surprise for everyone, as she likes to do.
“That’s great, and I think we got the movie all ready too,” Barbara says, and receives a thumbs up of confirmation from Adam.
With this, everybody finds a comfortable spot to sit as the movie begins playing, the studio logos rolling on the screen first. Charles and Delia on one couch, Lydia sitting in a strange lounging position on her soft chair, Adam and Barbara snuggling close on one loveseat, and you and Beetlejuice together on the other. You’re lucky that the television is so large, everyone’s already packed in enough as it is.
Beetlejuice scoots closer to you, and this time, he genuinely is being sweet. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes before snuggling his head against your shoulder affectionately. You reach your arm around his body to hold him closer, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair, always its favorite place to be. He sighs contentedly next to you, his eyes closing in bliss for a moment before they reopen to watch what’s happening on the TV, unwilling to miss a thing. His light but comforting weight pressing against you is like your own personal weighted blanket, immediately making you relax all of the muscles in your body with his mere close presence. Your own gaze lingers on his pretty features for a moment longer, before getting the distinct feeling that someone is watching you. Looking up, you see everyone watching the movie, aside from Adam and Barbara, who are cuddled together and subtly peeking over at you two of you. At getting caught, they shoot you identical sheepish grins, all endearing and full of fondness in the way their eyes crinkle at you and your demon. You can’t help but give them a coy smile back before you all return your attention to the screen, holding the ones that you love close in your heart and arms.
Author’s Note: WOW. HOW DID THIS END UP SO LONG. this absolutely CLEARS my longest fic record by a fuckton of words. i have no idea, this started as a little blurb when i saw beetlejuice in nyc and then i saw it again on tour and my bff inspired me to continue it and helped with some beta reading (shout-out! go read his fics of beej & others at wretched-devil, they’re absolutely lovely) and things just kinda spiraled outta control. this fic had my studious ass on bad dragon looking up monster cock references, it was so serious to me. welp, hope it was fun for y’all too, thanks for reading!!
120 notes · View notes
biboomerangboi · 4 days
Text
So you want to your local tumblr Creator?
Okay with all the AI art things coming out and also some new users I thought I’d show you all good ways to support creators on this platform.
First you’re going to want to go into your settings click into visibility and manually turn off the third party sharing feature.
Yes even if you aren’t an artist or don’t post anything at all. The more users that turn this on the more Tumblr can see we don’t want AI here.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is literally the bare minimum of what you can do and if that’s all you want to do that’s fine.
However if you want to support creators more you need to understand that likes don’t do anything on this platform. With a lot of new users I’m seeing more and more ratios like this:
Tumblr media
Which is fine all notes are good notes we all appreciate your like on our art but this is the reblogging site. There’s no algorithm! Likes don’t boost our art that much, other than maybe bringing us to the top of the tag. What helps is reblogging. This site is built for that and it is quick and easy.
Tumblr media
Literally all you have to do is hit the reblog button beside the like button and hit post. You don’t need tags or anything on your own blog. It really is quick and simple. Literally it only takes one second more than liking alone.
Now you might be saying Zee I want to reblog but I don’t want to spam my blog, I’m only on tumblr at 20 minute intervals I don’t want to to clog up other peoples dashes with my reblogs and that’s fine I got you.
Let me tell you about the queue function. Tumblr has a built in awesome system called the queue.
Tumblr media
It’s really quick and easy to use all you have to do is hit the reblog button, hit the three dots to the side, hit queue and boom your reblog is now added to your queue.
Tumblr media
Now what does the queue actually do? Basically it allows for your reblogs to go out at random times throughout the day without you doing anything. For example mine posts 10 times a day during the whole 24hr period. This is because as you can see I have a lot of art in my queue, you don’t need to have that much but you can. The queue is literally limitless.
Tumblr media
To modify your queue can also hit that cog button and modify it to suit your every whim. And boom there you go a quick and easy way to help creators from your mobile without any hassle.
You can even shuffle your queue so on days when discover a new interest and go through the entire tag liking and reblogging things you can mix it around with the stuff you regularly reblog to not overwhelm your followers with your new special interest! It's great!
Now if you want to push this one step further, maybe you like having tags on your posts to keep your blog organised, but you don’t want the hassle of typing out all those tags in 20 mins. Then don’t worry, I got you.
You see I kinda lied, the like button does have a function. It’s great as working as a bookmark. So if your in public and you want to show love for something then go on ahead and like that thing. Then when you get home you’re going to want to pull out your laptop and boot up tumblr and xkit. Which you can get here!
Once you have xkit up your going to want to go to quick tags and set up your tag buddles. These tags are then autosaved and easy edited making reblogging and adding to your queue incredibly easy. You can even add in your own rambly tags and keep the bundle.
Tumblr media
Honestly you don't even need to do it everyday, sure it saves some time but I usually try to update my queue once every two weeks or so (I forgot for like a month this time thats why my queue is so big, I had to go very far back, Don't be a me. It's stressful.) By using your likes as a bookmark you keep all the art and then can backdate everything you've liked in past few weeks, but honestly you don't need to do this. I do because I can be very Type A about running a blog but no one is going to hate you for spam reblogging or for reblogging without tags but please think about reblogging stuff to give a creator a much needed boost of serotonin. Remember that most creators are here for free and just want to share the thing they love with other people so keep the cycle alive and reblog stuff.
10 notes · View notes
mcplestreet · 2 years
Text
yearning from across the mall / steddie
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: in the summer of 1985 steve harrington planned on using his job at the mall to find his first rebound after his breakup with nancy months ago. though he gets his wish it doesn’t exactly some in the form he had expected
content warnings: none
word count: 6.8k
inspiration: this post
authors note: ahhh my first steddie fic!! i’m not super thrilled with how this turned out but i hope you guys like it nonetheless
tags: @smashtbh @canislupus-exe @beautifulblooms @angeliiaa
commissions masterlist taglist
Going into the summer of 1985 Steve expected to use his job at the new mall that had been built entirely to his own advantage. It had been a little over six months since Halloween and his subsequent breakup with Nancy and he finally felt ready to get back into the dating game. He was the kind of person that had so much love to give, and was incapable of not giving someone he loved every part of him. It was his nature. Perhaps it was the way he coped with the lack of care and affection his parents had bestowed on him from a very early age. Maybe it was just the way his brain was wired. Either way it felt weird to have been alone for so long.
The weekend before the 4th of July Steve had come the closest to progress he had seen all summer. There was a girl who worked at the movie theatre on the first floor who had never directly shut him down. She laughed at his jokes and made some of her own, and she looked at him the way girls had before the disappearance of Will Byers. Before Steve got soft. She looked at him with intrigue.
She was nowhere near the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, in fact Robin was more his type, and she wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and a little too dorky for him to take entirely serious. But was it so wrong of him to want to dip his toes back into the dating pool rather than dive in head first? Did he need his first pursuit to be for someone he was completely and utterly smitten with?
She was nowhere near the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, in fact Robin was more his type, and she wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed and a little too dorky for him to take entirely serious. But was it so wrong of him to want to dip his toes back into the dating pool rather than dive in head first? Did he need his first pursuit to be for someone he was completely and utterly smitten with?
Steve had a tendency to get carried away with things, and had recently been trying to take a step back from doing so.
She had mentioned being a fan of Kate Bush’s music and, if Steve were being completely honest, he’d only heard the name in passing from Max. Despite his determination to not get ahead of himself he decided to drop by the record store on the opposite side of the mall after work one day in hopes of having something in common with her to talk about when he eventually asked her to go to the 4th of July fair with him.
“Why don’t you just ask Max to borrow her album?” Robin called from the back while Steve changed out of his uniform in the attached bathroom. “It would save you some money.”
“Cause I don’t want her asking me why,” Steve replied, pulling his jeans and polo shirt from his backpack. “She’s nosy, and if I tell her I’m doing it for a girl she’ll make fun of me.”
“Oh boo-hoo Harrington’s gonna get teased by a middle schooler,” she replied, tone dripping with sarcasm.
Steve rolled his eyes despite the fact that she couldn’t see him do so. “Okay, well, she can be pretty brutal sometimes. Plus she listens to cassettes and I still like records better.”
He heard Robin snort from the other side of the door. “Okay dad.”
After changing his clothes and stuffing his uniform into his bag he opened the door and sent her a half hearted glare. “Geez, Robin, I’m trying to be nice here? Like the things that she likes.”
“Do you even like her?”
Steve faltered long enough for her to smirk and raise an eyebrow at him. “Look, she’s really nice. And she’s kinda funny, and we get along. Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know, Harrington. Is it enough for you?”
Instead of answering Steve flipped her off, to which she only laughed in reply. “Have fun closing by yourself Robin,” he called through the open window before ducking under the counter and heading out of the store.
The record store smelled vaguely of cigarettes, which he assumed was thanks to the people that worked there, and the same “old paper” smell that a bookstore would have in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. He browsed between the aisles of waist high shelves, keeping an eye out not only for Kate Bush as he did so but for something that he might like as well. He hadn’t bought a new record since Hatful of Hollow by the Smiths and he thought it was about time that he tried out some new music.
While browsing through Tears for Fears albums someone leaned into Steve’s peripheral vision. When he looked up he found a boy seemingly around his own age leaning over the records on the opposite side of the shelf that Steve stood on, arms folded across the divider at the top. His hands were decorated with rings and a chain necklace was around his neck and tucked into the neckline of his Metallica tshirt. Though his hair was tied up in a bun it was obviously long by the hairs that had escaped their confines and hung on either side of his face.
When Steve looked up and watched the boys pouty looking lips turn up in a smile he swore his heart stopped for a moment.
“What can I do for ya, big boy?” he asked, leaning his chin on his folded arms and gazing at Steve with brown eyes that could have easily belonged to a baby cow.
Steve felt heat rapidly crawl up his neck at the nickname and his eyes looked away and down at the records he had been sorting through on their own accord. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat when he found his voice came out slightly hoarse sounding. “I’m looking for Kate Bush.”
“Kate Bush?” he asked, his tone laced with equal parts surprise and suspicion, pushing himself upright once more. When he did so Steve was able to see his nametag.
Eddie.
Steve remembered him in an instant. He had always been a grade above Steve, until he had to repeat his senior year. But even then they hadn't had any classes together, and though his reputation had certainly preceded him Steve had only ever really been vaguely aware of him. In his junior year and the ones previous Steve didn’t really pay much mind to people outside of his own circle. But after the disappearance of Will Byers, and more specifically his face off with the Demogorgon, Steve didn’t care much for gossip about anyone. So when his classmates whispered about the latest news on Hawkins’ resident drug dealer Steve usually tuned them out.
He couldn’t even really remember ever interacting with Eddie before.
“You’re in the wrong section, man,” Eddie said before strolling to the end of the aisle, Steve following him from the opposite side. “But you’re not far off.”
Eddie brought him over to a shelf against the wall, tapping one of his ringed fingers against an album that Steve didn’t recognize. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Kate Bush kinda guy,” he noted, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s.
“I’m not,” Steve replied, grip on the strap of his backpack tightening as he felt Eddie’s gaze on him that he refused to meet. Anxiety had hastily taken a hold on his heart, squeezing and teasing him. “It’s, uh, it’s for a friend.”
“Oh well in that case you’re gonna want this,” Eddie said, plucking one of the records from the bunch and holding it out for Steve to see. He was careful not to brush against Eddie’s hand as he plucked the record from them, inspecting both the front and the back one in his grasp. “It just came out a little while ago. Not what I normally listen to but it was good. I’m surprised it’s not doing so well.”
Steve’s bottom lip stuck out in a slight frown as he read the names of the tracks. “It’s not popular?”
“More in the Uk than it is here, govnah,” Eddie replied in an overly dramatized cockney British accent. “So what’s the occasion?”
He looked up from the album but for a moment Steve’s reply got stuck in his throat when he realized the close proximity to him that Eddie stood and that his head was tilted up at him slightly. Personal space seemed to not be his thing. “Hm?” was all Steve answered with.
“You said it’s for a friend,” Eddie reminded him, nodding down at the record. “Is it their birthday or something?”
“Oh, uh… yeah,” Steve managed, brows coming together. “I don’t know her really well, but she mentioned she liked her music so, uh, I wanted to get her something.”
“So it’s not for a girlfriend then?” Eddie asked.
Steve cleared his throat that had suddenly felt dry. “No, no. She’s just… she’s just a friend.” In reality she was neither but, for a reason Steve couldn’t quite pick out, he had no interest in calling her his girlfriend to simplify things for Eddie. “I don’t know her super well. What did you think of the album? Do you think she’ll like it?”
Eddie hummed for a moment, looking over Steve’s shoulder to look at the listed songs on the cover and getting even more in his personal space in the process. “Like I said; it’s not really my thing. I’m more into metal music. But I still liked it. It’s a little experimental, I think. And, dude, if you’ve never listened to her before get ready. Her voice is insane.”
“Really?” Steve asked with more difficulty than he anticipated.
“Her range is crazy. I mean she can go so high. Everyone I’ve talked to about it likes Cloudbusting but I really like Waking the Witch. Maybe that’s case it’s more my speed.” Eddie straightened up again, raising an eyebrow at Steve. “What do you normally listen to? If not this.”
“The Smiths is more my thing,” Steve answered, watching Eddie’s face carefully for his reaction. When he instead spotted Eddie’s gaze flicker down for a moment he quickly turned away to busy himself with looking through the other albums they stood in front of. “Duran Duran, Tears for Fears, Eurythmics. That kind of stuff, I guess.”
“That’s respectable,” Eddie answered, turning around and leaning against the shelf next to him. Steve wondered briefly why he wasn’t helping anyone else before he realized that besides a slightly older man sat behind the counter too busy reading the paper to pay them much mind they were the only ones in the store. “But it’s not very adventurous.”
“I’m adventurous,” Steve replied, “Just not with music.”
“With what, then?”
“That’s classified information,” he answered sarcastically.
Eddie snorted, crossing his arms under his chest. “Geez, Harrington, if it’s private kinky stuff you can just say that. Don’t need to sound like you’re part of the CIA or something.”
Steve opened his mouth to sputter out a denial but wavered before he could. “I never introduced myself.”
“You don’t need to,” Eddie said, punching Steve’s bicep without any force whatsoever. “EVeryone in Hawkins knows who you are, man. That can’t be news to you.”
“No, not exactly,” Steve confirmed. “It’s just weird sometimes.”
“Aw, what? You don’t like being Hawkins royalty?”
“Actually no, I don’t.”
Eddie didn’t seem to expect much of a reply at all and, for the first time since he appeared, he didn’t have anything to say for a moment. He reached up and pushed some of the hair that had fallen loose from his bun behind his ears. As he did so Steve allowed himself to quickly inspect Eddie’s rings. “Yeah, well if you ever need a place to hide it’s not usually very busy here. Maybe we’d get more people if we sold cassettes. But, you know, gotta keep things the way they should be.” The last part of Eddie’s reply was in what Steve assumed was an impression of the manager behind the counter.
“Well usually I just hide in the back of Scoops if I need to,” Steve said with a short laugh.
Eddie mirrored the sound, and Steve thought that for someone who dressed the way that he did Eddie’s laugh was kind of dorky sounding. “No fucking way you work at Scoops.”
“For the past month and a half, last time I checked.”
Eddie laughed again and Steve decided that, yes, it was definitely dorky. But in a way he almost dared to describe as cute. “You in that god awful uniform is something I need to see.”
Steve sucked on his teeth. “Damn, too bad for you then that we have a strict dress code that you don’t fit. You won’t be allowed in. Sorry.”
For a moment Steve feared Eddie would think he was seriously trying to criticize him. But his smile persisted as he rolled his eyes. “You say that like I’m incapable of dressing ‘normal.’” He put air quotes around the word, rings clinking together as he did so. “I just chose not to.”
“Why do you?” Steve asked, then quickly added “Not that- not that it’s a bad thing! That’s not what I’m saying. Just curious is all.”
Eddie shrugged his shoulders, entirely unbothered by the question. “Cause I like it,” he replied. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I guess it is.” Truly Steve had never given the way Eddie dressed much thought. Well, he’d never paid much mind to Eddie in the first place. Their paths didn’t cross enough for it. But generally speaking Steve had never given much thought as to why people who dressed like Eddie did so. It never seemed important enough.
Though if Steve were going to give some thought to it he would think that he liked the way Eddie dressed. It was definitely not something he himself could pull off. But Eddie’s hair, that reached almost to his shoulders at that point, suited him as well as his rings. The Metallica shirt he wore was tight enough that it didn’t leave much about the shape of his torso up to the imagination. Steve struggled to imagine what Eddie would look like in jeans that weren’t ripped.
But again, he’d never given it much thought.
Steve cleared his throat that was still dry for no apparent reason. “Hey, thanks for showing me this.”
“It is quite literally my job, Harrington. I don’t hang out here for fun,” Eddie said, a shallow dimple poking into his cheek as he smiled. “You getting anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Eddie slid the record from his hands and pushed himself off the shelf, calling over his shoulder “Follow me, then, good sir,” as he made his way behind the counter that was now empty since the apparent manager had disappeared at some point. Steve felt almost glad for it. “So,” Eddie said slowly, trying and clearly failing to suppress his grin. “I really gotta dress up to be graced with access to your workplace?”
Steve held his hands up. “Listen, I don’t make the rules,” he insisted. “I just get paid to enforce them.”
Eddie hummed for a moment. “I’ll just have to decide if it’s worth the sacrifice, then.”
“Ouch, Munson,” Steve replied. “You know how to hurt a guy's feelings.”
“Damn really?” Eddie deadpanned, as he punched numbers into the cash register. “Guess I’ll just have to find a way to make it up to you then.”
“Guess you will.”
Eddie looked up at him only with his eyes, perpetually wide and doe-looking, and it was only then that Steve was hit with the slamming realization that he was flirting with Eddie.
Steve paid for his record and hurried out of the shop, all while suddenly not being able to look directly at Eddie and his puppy dog eyes anymore. Once the record store was out of sight it took all of Steve’s power not to run as he made his way through the mall in the direction he had come from . Anxiety continued to take hold of his heart at a more aggressive pace, squeezing and making the air struggle to pass through his lungs.
When Steve made it back to Scoops he walked past Robin, very clearly annoyed and asking “what are you doing back?” from where she sat perched on the counter thumbing through a book, and straight into the back room. He dropped both his backpack and newly acquired vinyl onto the table while Robin came in, faltering when she stepped into the room and closing the door behind her.
“You okay?” she asked slowly.
Steve raked his hands through his hair, tilting his head back to look up at the fluorescent lights above them. “Definitely not.”
“What happened?”
Eddie Munson happened.
For the next three weeks Steve experienced what Robin very bluntly called a “gay crisis.” He had resisted the idea entirely at first, getting way too defensive when Robin began making comparisons to the interaction he’d had with Eddie and the ones he used to have with Nancy right before they started dating and insisting that wasn’t what he was feeling. He had noticed was all. He didn’t feel anything. Though when Robin ended up coming out to him as a lesbian, and therefore well qualified to recognize a queer crush, he felt a little less argumentative.
Still Steve wasn’t convinced. At least at first. But when he caught himself in the following week finding excuses to be in the same area of the mall as the record store it became increasingly hard to ignore. When Steve found himself standing in the baby section of the Gap solely because it gave him a perfect view of Eddie while he was slumped back in a chair behind the counter and drawing on himself with a sharpie Steve had no choice but to acknowledge that Robin hadn’t been entirely wrong.
He took two more trips to the record store in the coming weeks, one of them to pick up something for his mother (which he may or may not have been too eager to offer to do). Eddie, to his absolute delight, was there both times. Conversation didn’t come quite as easy the second and third time around, with Steve being much too focused on choosing all the right words and making sure the tone he spoke with was as controlled as possible, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He still smiled at Steve in the same way that made a dimple cave into his cheek and spoke to him in a way that made Steve wonder what exactly he was trying to say.
Steve wasn’t ready to try and assign himself to a new sexuality. Not in the slightest. But he was ready to admit that there was an undeniable allure he felt around Eddie. And although watching a girl with a lip piercing try to flirt with Eddie on Steve’s third visit to the store did make him feel a bit like he might suffocate it did make him feel a little less intimidated by his at that point undeniable attraction to Eddie. Even though he and the unnamed girl would not face the same consequences for hitting on Eddie. The fact that Eddie didn’t seem particularly interested, hardly looking away from the shelf he was stocking as she spoke to him, was a small consolation prize.
Steve had ended up putting his pursuit of the girl that was the catalyst for his first visit to the record store on what would be a permanent hiatus. The date and possible follow up ones Steve had planned on having were instead spent alone in his bedroom listening to the Kate Bush album. Though Hounds of Love was Steve’s favorite song on it he understood in an instant why Waking the Witch was Eddie’s. It was far from Steve’s usual taste but every time the song came on he couldn’t help but think about Eddie’s dorky sounding laugh so it quickly became one of his preferred tracks.
Normally Max and Eleven showing up to waste some time in the shop would have given him pause, still aware of the reason for her very strict curfew (which was a little less strict while Hopper was pulling a double shift) but after a weeks long increase in his stress triggered by his first trip to the record store he found he couldn’t turn them away. And so he promised Robin to do both the sweeping and the mopping at closing if she would man the register all on her own while he sat with the two girls in the back for a little while.
They gave him a very dramatic and animated retelling of Eleven’s breakup with Mike from three days earlier while they all ate directly out of the tub of strawberry ice cream he had put on the table. “Woah, whoah, woah, what did Sinclair say?!” he asked, stopping the story short towards the end.
The two girls shared a look, Max rolling her eyes while Eleven only grinned. “Girls act with emotion, not logic.”
Steve shook his head, using his spoon to point at them. “You guys know that’s bull, right? It’s just that misogynistic crap Nancy always talks about. It’s real, you know.”
Eleven glanced at Max. “What is misogynistic?”
“Basically when men think they’re better than women,” Max explained.
“Nancy talked about something like that once,” Steve said. “That thinking with logic or emotion; one isn’t really better than the other. But when you say it like that, when you think that one is worse and then tell someone that’s what they’re doing, that’s nasty. You know what I mean?”
“Yes,” Eleven answered, struggling to get another scoop as they got closer and closer to the frozen core. “But why do men think they’re better?”
Steve scoffed. “Kid that goes back to, like, the beginning of time.”
“But boys are so stupid. Why do they think they’re better?”
“I genuinely don’t know.”
Max began telling the saga of breakup stories she had ever since the start of her relationship with Lucas dating back to December when the frosted window separating the back room from the counter flew open. Robin stuck her head in, lips turned up into a smirk as she did so. “Metal head at twelve o’clock.”
Steve scrambled out of his seat, nearly stumbling on the way, to poke his head out next to Robin in the open window. Sure enough when he looked out it didn’t take him long to spot Eddie. He was only a storefront or two away, fussing with a walkman that he seemed very annoyed with. His hair was tied up with loose waves framing his face, which Steve had decided was the best way Eddie could wear it, and Steve nearly fainted at the sight that the sleeves and hemline of his shirt had been cut off. A small stripe of skin between his shrit and his jeans was exposed and was sure to be the catalyst of Steve’s premature heart attack.
He turned back to the girls, taking his hat off and throwing it at Max who caught it easily and pointing at them. “Stay here,” he said as he made for the door. “Mind your business.”
“You know we can’t do that,” Max replied with a snort.
“Mind your business or I call Hopper and tell him you're out.”
When the girls let out what sounded to him like a sigh of defeat he slipped out the door and behind the counter. There were only two other customers in the store that Steve took the liberty of ringing up while Robin scooped their ice cream, thankful to have something to go to keep his hands busy while he waited to be (mostly) alone with Eddie. It was near painful the effort it took not to look at him as Steve helped the two people in line ahead of him.
Though Steve did dare to let his gaze land on Eddie when the last customer turned to walk away, spotting a dimple-causing smirk on his face. Robin became all too focused on wiping down surfaces and implements as he approached, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, this is totally worth getting kicked out for not fitting the dress code,” he said, coming close enough that his somewhat exposed stomach was pressed against the other side of the counter. “That uniform is completely ridiculous.”
Steve looked down at himself, lips turning down into the frown. “Some people think it’s cute,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“You said it was ridiculous.”
“It can be both at the same time,” Eddie replied. “Like when you put clothes on a dog for the first time and it doesn’t know how to walk anymore. It’s cute, but it’s stupid as hell.”
Steve put his hand on his heart and leaned his shoulder on the same side back. “You walked all the way from the other side of the mall to insult me? That’s so mean.”
“No, I came all the way from the other side of the mall to bother you,” he explained, moving to lean both his forearms onto the counter, giving Steve a very clear view of the tattoos that were visible. “I’m having car troubles so I’ve been getting rides with a friend who works at the comic store downstairs. But he doesn’t get off for another hour and a half so,” he spread his hands palm up, “here I am.”
“Interesting that you didn’t wait for him at his store,” Steve pointed out.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well I tried. The manager started taking her break and she made me leave. Don’t think you were my first choice, Harrington.”
“Okay now you’re trying to hurt my feelings.”
His dimple dipped into his cheek as Eddie’s lips turned up into a smirk once more. “Big boy you couldn’t handle it if I tried to hurt your feelings.”
Steve was sure his heart had stopped beating and his stomach plummeted down into the floor simultaneously. He was only vaguely aware of Robin, who thankfully had her back turned to Eddie, quickly covering her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle. After his last visit to the record store Steve had been certain that Eddie was flirting with him. Whether he meant to or not was the only mystery. But as Eddie’s gaze flickered up and down what of Steve was visible from the opposite side of the counter during his momentary inability to speak he was faced with the near certain truth that Eddie knew exactly what he was doing.
Steve felt nothing short of what Robin decided as gay panic.
Eddie straightened up slightly, brows rising with surprise and disappearing under his bangs. “Unless you want me to leave.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So do I get the privilege of getting to hang out behind the counter with you guys?” Eddie asked, placing his hands palm down on the granite. “Or is there a strict ‘no wearing black beyond this point rule?”
Steve opened his mouth to reply with an offer to get a chair from the back when Robin beat him to the punch, appearing by his side with a grin that was a little too cheeky. “Actually you guys can hang out in the back until it’s time to start closing. No one really comes in from now until then, really.”
That wasn’t true. The second to last movie playing in the theatre, and the last one that would be played before the rest of the mall closed down, was set to let out in twenty minutes and there would undoubtedly be a rush. It would be short but it would be busy.
But Eddie was none the wiser, ducking under the flip top instead of pulling it up while Steve sent a quick glare Robin’s way when he wasn’t looking. Steve was quick to lead the way into the back room where Max and Eleven still will. They looked up from the barrel of ice cream curiously when he walked in with someone he doubted they recognized. “Out,” he said simply, walking over to the table and plucking the spoons from both their hands.
“What the hell Steve?” Max asked.
“Don’t you have friends your own age?”
“Do you?”
Steve felt his face go red and turned away much longer than was necessary to put their spoons in the sink. “Yeah, well, either way I’m not the one with the curfew. Which, last time I checked, was two hours ago.”
The two of them exchanged a look and a short giggle before reluctantly gathering their things. Eleven hesitated for a moment before following Max out of the room. “Will you tell him?”
“I won’t if you guys go straight home,” Steve answered, earning a wide smile from her in return before she ducked out the door.
Eddie took his time making his way over to the table in the center of the room, peering down into the tub of ice cream they had been working on before his arrival. “She your sister or something?”
“Hm? Oh no, no, she’s…” She has telekinetic powers and is hiding from the government and when her dad can’t come home I make her dinner. “I used to babysit her. She’s old enough now that we just kind of hang out.”
“Cute,” Eddie said simply, sitting in the chair Max had previously occupied, taking the headphones from his walkman off of around his neck and placing both on the table all while Steve put the tub of ice cream back in the fridge where it was supposed to remain untouched until it went out to the counter. “So is it just you and Robin here?”
“Yeah, usually,” Steve answered, taking the seat he had been in before, which was now next to Eddie. “Do you know Robin?”
“Vaguely,” he replied. “We had gym together last year.”
“She never mentioned that,” he said, planning on interrogating Robin as to why she didn’t offer up such information in the weeks he had spent pining and complaining about pining for Eddie.
“Yeah, well, I hardly ever showed up so she probably forgot I was in the class with her,” Eddie replied. He leaned back in his seat, making the two front legs of the chair come off the ground, and let his ringed hands fall into his lap. “Why? Were you guys talking about me?”
Steve’s throat went dry, which happened a lot when he was around Eddie. “What?”
“You said she never mentioned me,” Eddie explained, the smirk that Steve both loved and loathed returning. “Does that mean she would have had a good opportunity to mention me? Like if you guys were talking about me?”
His face that had only gone back to its normal temperature for a few minutes felt hot once again and he prayed that it didn’t show in his complexion. “Watch it Munson, your ego is showing.”
Eddie held his hands up while letting out a laugh that made Steve’s stomach do a summersault. “Your phrasing left lots up to the imagination, Harrington. I’m just trying to fill in the blanks.”
“Nah, seems more like wishful thinking to me.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause I’ve got nothing better to daydream about than Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington talking about me behind my back.”
“See now your phrasing makes it seem like we’d be talking shit about you,” Steve pointed out. “Maybe we were saying nice things about you.”
“Oh yeah?” Eddie asked, one of his eyebrows rising and disappearing under his bangs. “And what would those nice things be?”
Steve immediately realized he should have kept his mouth shut, taking a hand through his hair before resting his head on his propped up arm. “That was rhetorical.”
“Right,” Eddie said sarcastically. He let his chair fall flat on the tile floor once more, folding his arms on the table and leaning over them, teetering on invading Steve’s personal space once more. Honestly it was surprising it has taken him so long to do so. “You haven’t been telling Buckley I’ve been flirting with you. I definitely believe that. That’s totally not why she acted like the fucking mayor or something was here when she saw me coming.” Eddie let out a laugh, shorter this time and, dare Steve describe it as, uncertain. “If she moves like how she hauled ass to tell you I was here in gym last year maybe she wouldn’t have almost failed the class.”
At some point while Eddie spoke Steve’s brain began working at half the speed it normally did. Eddie’s words processed in his mind slowly, taking their time to marinate thoroughly before being consumed into his consciousness, all while Eddie’s puppy dog eyes surveyed Steve carefully for his reaction. Steve ran his hands through his hair before propping his chin on them. “Wait, so- yeah. You were flirting with me. Definitely?”
Eddie’s naturally pouty lips turned up in a smile while he turned his gaze down to the rings on his hands. “Yes, Steve. I was flirting with you. I still am. I didn’t, uh…” His voice trailed off and as he took a moment to gather his thoughts Eddie took his bottom lip between his teeth and spun the ring on his thumb. “I just didn’t expect you to flirt back. I mean, that is what you’re doing right?”
Logically there was nothing to be embarrassed about yet his face immediately ignited. He leaked his face further into his hand, hoping to cover at least one of his undoubtedly red cheeks. “Yes.”
“And, um…” Eddie’s voice sounded much different when he was seemingly nervous or unsure of himself than it did in Steve’s visits to the record store. Or how he had sounded when he arrived at Scoops. It was only then, when Eddie began nervously shaking his leg up and down and causing the chain hanging off of his belt to clink repeatedly on the metal leg chair that Steve realized at some point they had progressively begun to inch closer. Eddie’s leg brushed up against his own every few seconds and their elbows were just barely touching. “Is that just for fun? Or to, like, fuck with me?”
“It’s not to fuck with you,” Steve said immedetly, his hands falling onto the table and landing close beside Eddie’s. “Not at all.”
“So then… it’s just for fun?”
“No.”
Eddie looked up at him once more, large and unblinking eyes flickering across Steve’s face until they landed on his lips. Steve only had a moment to realize it before Eddie moved, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Eddie’s hands lifted up to hold either side of Steve’s face, the metal of his rings cool against Steve’s warm skin while Eddie crashed their lips together. For a slightly terrifying moment Steve froze up completely, his heart ceasing from pumping and his blood stopping its rush. But just as soon as it had come it not only passed but resumed with a fever.
Steve was sure sparks were coming off of him from where Eddie’s hands were on his face and their knees pressed together. Everything he’d been avoiding thinking about, everything he pathetically underplayed both to Robin and his own inner monologue, was propelled to the front of his mind with a clarity not unlike the first time he had put contact lenses in. Steve had previously been trying to undermine that what had happened to him since the first time he met Eddie was not much more than attraction caused by confusion and perhaps a little bit of desperation.
It was a gross understatement and Steve knew it in an instant when he felt himself practically melting into Eddie’s hands. He hadn’t felt the same amount of draw, same struggle to not be pulled into someone's gravitational pull, since senior year when his paths first crossed with Nancy Wheeler. And once he realized the gravitational pull was dragging him in he had no other choice but to let it consume him.
What Eddie has triggered in him wasn’t surface level and objective attraction that led to diconcernment. It was his heart opening up and allowing someone new to be the one it longed for for the first time since Nancy. It had its sights set on a slightly obnoxious metal head with the biggest eyes and nicest smile Steve had ever seen.
Steve wrapped his hands around Eddie’s wrists and began moving his lips against his, earning what sounded like a content sigh in response. Eddie tasted like the bitter smoke of cigarettes and the sweetness of soda, and though it wasn’t a combination Steve would have anticipated enjoying had he previously considered it they were a marvelous combination when belonging to Eddie’s lips.
They both moved to sit on the edge of their seats, Eddie doing so first and Steve quick to follow him, legs somewhat tangled together as they got used to the movements of each other's lips. Eddie’s hands slowly inched upwards until his fingertips were lost in Steve’s hair and holding securely but not harshly making Steve’s stomach do backflips.
Steve still had no idea what to make of his sexuality and if/how it had changed since meeting Eddie Munson but by now, slipping his tongue past Eddie’s lips in the back room of Scoops, he was certain that what he felt for Eddie was no different for the feelings he’d had for Nancy in the beginning. The anxious anticipation of the next time Steve would get to see him, how a simple glance or smile made Steve a blushing mess, how despite the fact that they’d had little interaction Eddie consumed a concerning amount of Steve’s thoughts.
The movement of Eddie’s lips was small and gentle at first, perhaps anticipating rejection that Steve had no plans of giving him, but the longer they were connected the more Eddie kissed him with what seemed like a need that rivaled what Steve had been feeling for the past three weeks. Steve felt his breathing become progressively shaky and found that as they continued the urge to pounce on Eddie like some kind of animal became increasingly difficult to suppress.
Steve thought that he could have kissed Eddie for hours, but when Eddie pulled away just enough to separate their lips to take in a few panting breaths Steve realized just how badly he had needed to do the same. Eddie’s hands slid to the back of Steve’s neck, his hands still grasping Eddie’s wrists, and hesitated before moving far enough away that they could look at each other. Which, in Steve’s opinion, was much too far.
Eddie looked at him with eyes that made Steve’s heart dissolve into a lovesick puddle. They moved down momentarily before meeting his gaze once more. “You’re smiling,” Eddie observed out loud. “So I’m guessing you’re not exactly pissed that I just did that?”
It was only then that Steve managed to let go of what had been his grounding grip on Eddie’s wrists, reaching over and wrapping one of the curls that had fallen loose from the knot Eddie had tied his hair in around his finger. Steve swore he saw pink dust across Eddie’s cheeks. “You could say that,” he replied, his knuckle grazing Eddie’s jawline. “You have, like, the most beautiful eyes ever.”
Eddie laughed and Steve relished in the sound. “Do I?”
“Yeah, you do,” he answered without hesitation. “I forget how to think a little when you look at me.”
Eddie hummed quietly and leaned his face into his hand. “Say more nice things, Steve.”
It was his first time hearing his first name in Eddie’s voice and Steve decided that the way Eddie said it was his favorite. That combined with the way he let his eyes flutter shut for a moment when Steve rubbed his thumb against his temple; how was Steve ever expected to deny Eddie of anything he asked for? “Robin and I do talk about you,” he said. “About this stupid, pathetic crush I have on you.”
“You have a crush on me? That’s the cutest shit I’ve ever fucking heard.” Eddie reached up to pinch his cheeks and Steve only half heartedly tried to turn his head away. He quickly gave up and held Steve by the chin, moving his face to look at him once more. “There’s nothing wrong with my car. I just didn’t know what else to say to get you to let me stay for a while.”
“Well now who's being cute? Coming up with an excuse just to come see me.”
Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah says you, you’re our most regular customer right now.”
Steve opened his mouth to protest but when he figured it was most likely true he instead kissed Eddie once more.
155 notes · View notes
luna-jaden-shadow · 2 years
Text
Tags
Request - can you do a fluff for frank castle maybe like he gets a tattoo of like your dog tags (male reader) please if you can <33
Fluff
Warnings - Cursing,
Pairing - Frank Castle X Male!Reader
-><-
Tumblr media
-><-
He was stuck with you the moment that he met you. Drunk out of your mind at some bar you got dared by your friends to hit on the “tough guy” sitting in the corner booth. Your moves could have been better as you nearly tripped when you approached him. “Hi,” you slurred, leaning with one hand on the table.
Amused, he looks up at you. “Hi,” he looks you over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay?”
You nod with a smile, “you’re cute.” You state, gutting straight to the point.
The man laughs, shaking his head as he raises his glass, taking a sip from it. “Thanks?”
“Do you-would you-wanna get a drink?” You stumble over your words for a moment.
He smiles nonetheless. “Why don’t you sit?” You sit across from him in the booth and the rest of the night the two of you talked. It wasn’t the last time you saw after your friends and you left the bar. You met up a lot (mostly over coffee) and eventually you gave him your number and the meet-ups turned into dates.
You learned about his past, who he was and is. He told you stories about his time as The Punisher. Most of it he speaks with regret, others make you know that they deserved it. You tell him about your past, how you served, bonding with him over that military background.
You didn’t back down, taking the challenge of being with someone who worked could die any time he leaves the house. You stuck by his side through everything. It’s that commitment that brings you to where you are now.
. . .
From the study, you can hear the front door to the house open and the muffled sound of Frank’s voice calls out instantly. “In the study.” You call back, focusing on what you’re working on. His heavy steps approach the room, stopping just before the door. “You can come in.” You smile when he knocks on the door.
Frank steps into the room, smiling at the sight of you typing away at your computer. “Hey, bug.” He walks to stand in front of your desk. You look up and smile at the stupid pet name he’d given you. “What are you working on?”
“Just work, nothing cool.” You tell him, leaning back in your chair. “What’s up with you?”
“Well I brought dinner and I got something I wanna show you.” You raise an eyebrow, saving and closing what you were working on. He takes you by the hand, kissing your knuckles, then leading you to the dining room.
A bag of takeout is sitting on the table. “Thank you.”
Frank presses a kiss to your lips before flashing a smile. “It’s nothing.” He shrugs, starting to take the food out of the bag and the two of you chat while eating dinner.
“Sooooooo,” you go on, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “What’s this thing you wanna show me?”
“Close your eyes.” He steps away from you.
You pout, “I hate surprises.”
He shakes his head, “you’ll like this one. Trust me.” You close your eyes, hearing him move around a bit before the room falls silent. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”
You do so and you’re met with Frank, now shirtless. “If you wanted to fuck you could have just said so.” He shakes his head before turning so that his back was facing you, showing off a new tattoo. “That’s so cool, you got your tags.” You note, tilting your head when he laughs.
“Take another look handsome.” Confused, you step closer to him, your hand reaching up to touch the tattoo. It's then that you catch your name and tag number. “What do you think?”
He turns and looks at you, seeing you tear up at the sight. “You got my tags?”
“I want to have you with me even when you’re not.” He admits, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you more.” You smile, kissing him.
162 notes · View notes
crazycookiecrumbles · 2 years
Text
A Helping Hand
A/N: Based in Stark!ReaderVerse! This is just some background on Stark!Reader and Clint Barton’s relationship and how that relationship formed. 
Oh, so I guess this is my first Clint x Stark!Reader Nice.
Buy me a Ko-Fi
Stark!ReaderVerse! Masterlist
TAG LIST NOTES:  I have no idea how to efficiently make a tag lists and am lazy as shit, so I would recommend post notifications just bc i’m, well,…tired lazy person
Pairings/Characters: Clint Barton x Stark!Reader (platonic); Tony Stark x Daughter! Reader
Warnings: none, swears
Summary: Before you ever met Shangqi or Steve Rogers, there was Clint Barton, Master Assassin, and also Tony Stark’s favorite babysitter.  
WC: 2,284
Tumblr media
You were sitting at home, basically, doing nothing. Your dad was in the garage working, and while you had been down there previously to help him, he decided to work on his suit, so you decided to work on a little bit of programming of his suit upstairs in the living room where he couldn’t’t accidentally send a gauntlet flying through your computer screen.
Again.
The doorbell rang and while you should’ve gotten off your ass to answer it, you sighed dramatically and spoke out loud instead.
“Jarvis, is there a serial killer at the door?”
“Potentially,” he replied, causing you to stop typing. “Agent Barton is currently outside.”
“Huh?” Your eyebrows went up. “Why?”
“Perhaps you should open the door and ask. I will alert your father of his presence.”
“Okay,” you nodded and got up from the sofa, set your laptop on the sofa, and jogged over to the front door. You pulled it open and stared into the face of one, Agent Clint Barton, who was not wearing the SHIELD tactical gear you’d seen him in every single time he’d have to come save you from one of your dad’s villains of the week. Instead, he stood in front of you in jeans, a purple t-shirt, and sunglasses to hide his bored, tired look.
“Hi, Mr. Barton,” you greeted him.
He tilted his head to the side and stared at you, “Kid. I’ve saved you how many times? Your dad’s used me as security for you at a party, and I still don’t know how he managed to get Fury to do that. Clint is fine.”
“Right, Clint. Sorry, and thanks,” you said quickly and opened the door more, “My dad’s downstairs in the garage, office, lab thing. I’m guessing he called you, right?”
“Yes, because your father is extremely ambiguous and can’t possibly ever use words over a phone to explain anything.”
You nodded as you followed him inside the house, “He likes an audience.”
“I did not need to know that about him,” he joked quietly.
You paused for a moment as you considered what his joke was, “Aw, dude, ew!!”
He chuckled to himself, very amused that he disgusted Tony Stark’s teenage kid. There was something about the horrified look on a kid’s face that really, really amused him endlessly. As he made his way towards the stairs, you sat back on the sofa, grabbed your laptop, and got back to work. You twisted your bracers around your arms and went back to work, but noticed that as soon as Clint had went down the stairs, he was walking back up with Tony’s hand on his shoulder and his motor mouth talking his ear off.
“Ah, spawn, there you are,” Tony began as he shoved Clint into the living room.
You stared up at him, blinking behind your blue-light glasses as your eyes drifted from Clint to your dad and you raised an eyebrow, “Well, where else would I be?”
“Whatever,” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, turn off the codes and shit. You’re going with William Tell here.”
“What?”
“What?” Clint’s head snapped to him, “No. Come on. I’m not doing babysitting duty again —“
“No, it’s not that. Actually, you told me something a few weeks ago when you saved my kid over here from that big, giant ,crazy Russian.”
“Oh, good,” you mumbled under your breath.
“I don’t think I did,” Clint shook his head quickly.
“No, you did,” Tony nodded. “You said that Shake & Bake over there’s powers are tied to her emotions, which, duh, we all know that, but you actually managed to get her to calm down.”
“Well, she split the ground beneath us and it split my car in half so we had to walk four miles to safety, but who’s tracking that, right?”
“Okay. But before you two started walking, you got Tremors over there to take a metaphorical Xanax, and managed to get her to focus her power and aim at something rather than just fuck up everything around her.”
“….Okay,” Clint blinked twice “Not sure why I’m here.”
“Oh, you’re going to train my kid.”
“Nope. Definitely not.”
“Yup, totally are. Kid has no patience when I do it. Do you know how many avalanches we caused last week?”
Clint slowly turned his head to stare at you, “You caused the Colorado Downfall?”
You paused your lips, “It was an accident.”
“How the hell was that an accident?”
“He gets me so mad and then I can’t control myself,” you explained. “He is just so — so — “
“Your powers work when you’re super angry or super depressed. What would you do?” Tony turned to you. “We get it to work and then we figure out how to, you know, make you not destroy everything around us and make that more productive. I’ve still never seen you blast something with your hand, on purpose, no less! That would be awesome.”
You sighed and tucked your legs beneath you as you leaned on the arm rest, “So you contacted SHIELD, well, Nick Fury, to get his best assassin to help me learn to aim?”
“Well, he’s supposedly a decent archer,” Tony reasoned, “And you have a relationship with him. And apparently my teaching technique doesn’t work very well.”
“Look, I’m not some daycare teacher or —“
“I will make you arrows that SHIELD could never even dream of,” Tony bribed Clint. “And I’ve got a Challenger downstairs I just got for when she gets her license. You get her to have some better control so I can loosen up those inhibitors on her, and you can have that car.”
“Aw, bro —“ You whined.
“I’ll get you another one, besides ,you’re not passing that test anytime soon anyway,” Tony reasoned. “So, Katniss, we good?”
Clint mulled it over, “What color’s the car?”
“Red.”
“Done,” Clint shook Tony’s hand. “Okay. Come on, princess, let’s do this.”
“I can’t believe you’re letting my dad bribe you into helping me figure this out.”
Clint sighed, “Yeah, yeah. Unfortunately, I’ve got pretty good patience with emotionally stunted women, decent aim, and now a new car.”
“You don’t have a new car yet. You have to get me to actually shoot from my hands and not cause a natural disaster.”
“Yeah. I will.”
~*~
You never could have guessed that the agent who had been tasked with saving you from Obadiah Stane and various other incidents would now be with you in the middle of nowhere in California trying to get your powers and emotional control under enough control that you didn’t have to solely rely on your power inhibiting bracers. They were starting to prove to be a little bit of a problem. Tony had to keep upgrading them because they always seemed to be working less and less, and it was getting harder and harder to try to be subtle with them.
After all, that was why Pepper was working the ‘bone disease’ angle whenever the press tried to ask questions about you.
Now you stood in the forest while Clint leaned on a tree behind you. He watched you closely, and you kept making the ground rumble beneath you, never once being able to extend anything out from your hands or with a focused purpose, just a random outburst of power.
Clint cleared his throat and walked a few feet in front of you to a thick tree you were trying to hit. He stared at it for a second before nodding and smacking his hand against it twice, “You’re gonna hit this.”
“Haven’t so far.”
“Yeah,” he nodded and chewed on his lip. “Okay. Remember when we first met?”
“Yes. I’m still in therapy from it,” your voice was flat and you seemed less than amused at having to remember this.
He smiled, “Great! Good start. Anyway, Stane, that piece of work. Pretend this is him,” he tapped the tree trunk twice. “Pretend it’s him and you finally get to let loose.”
“I, I can’t just let loose.”
“Sure you can. Or are you too much of a dignified princess? Cause I gotta say, I’ve seen you cry, it’s rough.”
“First of all, fuck off,” You snapped as he smirked and walked away from the tree to stand behind you again. “Secondly, any other tips?”
“Yup. Just focus on that tree. Slow, deep breaths. Think about the night you were kidnapped. You thought your dad was gonna die — hell, you watched him start dying on that sofa after you just got him back,” Clint began. “Then you were ripped out of your home, and you were just a kid. You were even younger than you were now and that man, that man who let you call him Uncle Obie was ready to kill you like you were nothing.”
Clint could feel the ground start to tremble beneath the two of you as you thought about it. Slowly, he raised your arm and pointed it at the tree before gingerly moving forward, opening your hands, splaying your fingers, and focusing your palm directly at the tree. 
“That man was basically family, and he hurt you, your dad, Pepper,” Clint cautiously took a few steps back in fear of what you might do next.  “I mean, hell, who’s to say he didn’t set up that car accident that killed your mom?”
And that was the tipping point. 
“Exhale and let go,” Clint urged.
Power surged from your hand and rushed at the tree trunk. Instantly it turned into splinters in front of you. While all the wood bits and leaves came falling down in front of you, your jaw fell open, and Clint grinned and patted your back.
“Look at that. Now we know you can do it. Only up from here on out, Starkette.”
You turned quickly and stared at him, “Did—did he really do that?”
“I actually have no idea I just figured that would make you upset enough to do something.”
“Great,” you remarked. “Just great.”
“Yup, it worked. See? Hawkeye,” he nodded his head and looked around for another good tree to practice with. “Let’s do it again. I gotta record it this time so your dad sees it.”
“Fine.”
“By the way,” Clint glanced at you as he took out his phone, “If Tony makes you angry when you do this, why can you do this around me and not him?”
“Oh, you made me real fucking depressed,” you pointed out. “Dad makes me so angry by being so annoying. Have you had your father poke you in the forehead 30 times at rapid pace and talk nonstop and just continue to do everything you absolutely hate? I wanted to kill him.”
Clint blinked, “Ah. I see where he fucked up.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah….Okay. Smile, Starkling.” Clint held up the camera phone and paused for a moment, “Hey, nerd.”
You sighed, “What, dork?”
He offered a smile to you, “Good job.”
You bowed your head in embarrassment and quietly thanked him. Raising your hand, you took a few deep breaths and focused those same feelings you felt before on shooting the next target while Clint recorded you.
~*~
When you went home that night, you were walking in and chatting Clint’s ear off about a whole bunch of arrow designs you had in mind while he was sipping his soda. You shoveled ice cream into your mouth and rushed into the living room while Clint was behind you balancing a pizza box in his other hand.
“Hey, dad!” You greeted him.
Tony turned from his position of standing and staring at the TV and greeted you with a smile. He opened his arms as you ran over and wrapped them tightly around his middle.
“There’s my little wood chipper,” he greeted you. “Nice job today.”
“Thanks,”
“You too, Agent Barton,” Tony said as he shook his hand. “Is that pizza?”
“Yeah, angry tree breaking turned into her passing out,” Clint said. “The more she uses her powers, the more energy it takes, I guess. Believe it or not, we ordered two pizzas,” Clint said as he put one box on the coffee table which contained three slices leftover. “But she did well. She’s got an idea on how to get those focused blasts now. She’s just gotta build up her endurance, keep practicing, work on control for when she’s not upset.”
“Hear that, kid? No more temper tantrums,” Tony teased.
You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I know. Clint gave me some tips.”
“Well, thanks again, Agent,” Tony nodded to him. “And enjoy the car.”
“Thanks, Stark —“
“And we’ll see you in about two months when I enlist your services to escort my kid to a benefit for young geniuses of the world.”
“Nope,” Clint said as he rushed to the front door, “Later, princess!”
“Too late, already told Fury. Your services will be used!” Tony shouted after Clint as the archer slammed the door shut. Tony turned his head to glance down at you, “Proud of you today, cupcake.”
You beamed, “Thanks, dad. Think I’ll be as good a superhero as you?”
He nodded and squeezed your shoulder affectionately, as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, “Over my dead body will I see you fighting crime. Now, what is that? Cookie dough? Mint chip? Give me some.”
“No, it’s my ice cream!” You ran away laughing as your dad chased you.
“This is the father tax! I demand a bite!” Tony shouted as he chased after you, laughing, enjoying this moment he was having with his kid that he couldn’t ever remember having with his dad. “Jarvis, get my suit! This is a devastating emergency of the highest proportion.”
257 notes · View notes
flowerwrites06 · 3 years
Text
break my mind’s eye I — jjk
Tumblr media
Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal. 
Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle) 
Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+
Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series
Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 
Word Count: 7k+
Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff
Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution 
Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine 
Tumblr media
The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.
Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.
Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.
“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.
“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.
“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…
His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.
Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.
Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.
-
The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.
Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.
Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.
Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”
“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.
“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.
Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.
He stayed silent averting his gaze.
“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.
Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.
“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.
Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”
Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.
“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.
Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”
Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.
“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”
“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”
Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”
The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.
“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”
Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?
-
Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.
During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.
Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.
Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.
Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.
As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.
“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.
Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.
They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.
Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.
Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.
“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.
Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.
She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.
Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.
Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.
When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.
Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.
The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.
Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.
“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.
“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.
Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.
“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.
Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.
The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.
Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.
“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.
Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.
“And you are?”
“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.
Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”
“Belle.”
“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.
Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.
“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.
Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.
“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”
“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.
“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.
Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”
Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”
Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.
A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”
“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.
There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.
Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”
Debatable.
“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”
“You just met me.”
“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.
“And if you’re wrong?”
He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.
Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.
“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”
-
Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”
Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.
“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.
She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”
Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”
“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.
“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.
She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”
“…What?” He whispered.
Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”
Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”
“I agreed.”
“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”
“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”
“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.
Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”
“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.
“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”
Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.
“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”
“He would’ve killed you.”
“But you’d be happy.”
Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”
“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”
Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”
“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.
Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.
One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.
The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.
“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”
She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.
Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.
Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”
Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.
-
Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.
On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.
Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.
Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.
“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”
Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.
“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”
“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.
“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”
Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.
“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.
-
It may have been dark by now.
At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.
Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.
“Belle?”
“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”
“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”
“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.
“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.
Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.
Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?
“Belle, you still there?”
“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.
The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.
“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.
“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.
“We don’t have any other choice.”
“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”
“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay…Belle…”
“Yeah?”
“…I love you. Be safe.”
The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.
For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.
The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”
“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”
“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.
Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.
She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.
“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.
“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.
“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”
Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.
Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”
“Is this how you get all your girls?”
He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.
“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.
Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”
“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.
“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.
They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.
“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.
I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.
“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.
Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.
Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.
Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.
When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.
Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.
He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.
Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.
Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.
A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.
“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”
Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.
It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.
His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.
Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.
Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.
Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.
Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.
Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.
“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”
Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”
She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”
The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”
Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”
“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”
She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”
“…I didn’t—”
“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.
You are a fucking beast.
“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”
“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”
“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”
“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.
“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”
“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”
“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”
“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.
“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.
Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.
“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”
She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.
It made one.
Tumblr media
NEXT CHAPTER >>
1K notes · View notes
ahtsumu · 3 years
Text
long shots ; miya osamu
Tumblr media
pairing: miya osamu x f!reader
synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.
tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k
a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL
Tumblr media
HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.
“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.
“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”
“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”
A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”
Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.
It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM
But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM
Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.
Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.
The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.
“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.
A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.
You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.
Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.
As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.
Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.
Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.
And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.
The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.
“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.
The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.
“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.
“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.
“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”
Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”
Well, shit.
Tumblr media
Hi Osamu,
I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!
Regretfully,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
Tumblr media
It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.
Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.
His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.
“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.
“Hey.”
You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”
“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”
At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”
Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”
Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”
“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”
“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”
“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”
Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.
“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.
“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”
“Oh?”
And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––
“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”
“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”
Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.
You take it.
Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.
Tumblr media
Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.
“He wants you,” she sings.
“Or he was just being nice.”
“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”
“I think he was just being polite.”
“Or he’s crushing on you!”
“In your dreams.”
“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.
A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.
“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”
“Am not!” you laugh.
“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”
“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”
“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”
“Isla.”
“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”
“I’m not asking him out.”
“Knew you were––”
“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”
Tumblr media
Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.
“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.
“What?” you whisper back.
“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”
“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”
“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”
He does it again the next class.
And the next.
And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.
He debates pressing the matter.
Tumblr media
hey osamu,
i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!
miserably,
Y/N
MS Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
y/n,
of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.
OM
PhD Candidate
College of Agriculture and Life Sciences
Haikyuu University
Tumblr media
“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.
He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”
“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.
Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”
“Why?”
“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.
i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.
Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.
“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?
A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”
You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.
“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”
“So you changed.”
“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”
“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”
Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”
“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’
“I’ll be the boss.”
“Oh?”
And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.
The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.
“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.
He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”
“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 
Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”
Tumblr media
He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.
“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.
“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”
“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.
“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.
Osamu smirks. “A gift.”
“Can I guess from who?”
“Sure.”
“Atsumu.”
His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.
“I’m smart like that.”
He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”
You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.
“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”
You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”
And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”
Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?
A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”
“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.
“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”
Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”
Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”
“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.
“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.
“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.
“Yeah,” he replies.
You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.
“Goodnight, Osamu.”
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.
But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.
Tumblr media
Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.
Speaking of.
“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”
You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.
I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.
And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?
You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.
“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.
“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”
Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”
“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”
“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.
“Correct-o.”
He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.
There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.
Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”
He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.
Tumblr media
Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.
“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.
“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”
“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”
“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.
You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.
His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.
Tumblr media
From: osamu
good luck on the exam
you’re going to kill it
To: osamu
would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏
From: osamu
bye
To: osamu
i was kidding :(
From: osamu
fine. tip #1: write your name
To: osamu
not very helpful. 0/10
From: osamu
keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be
i’m kidding
you got this, y/n
Tumblr media
“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”
“What would you do?” you ask, amused.
“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”
“Solid plan.”
“What about you?” she asks.
“What about me?”
“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.
“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.
“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”
A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.
Holy fuck.
Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.
“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.
Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.
“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”
“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.
“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”
Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”
Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.
He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.
And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”
“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––
“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”
“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.
“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.
You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
leviiattacks · 3 years
Text
Seven minutes in Heaven with Physics Major Levi
Tumblr media
author note :: i lost the ask but anon i do not know what this is. reading it sounded better in my head but physics major levi with reader who likes him is that a good description???? HM ANYWAY enjoy it’s not too great i’ve been revising nonstop for exams but i might as well have finished this off for the anon who requested it :-)
word count :: 2.5k probably... hm who knows maybe 3k
Tumblr media
when you and levi become friends it’s definitely unexpected to say the least. everyone is naturally very confused by the peculiar pairing. levi doesn’t really... go out of his way to befriend anyone really??? so for him to approach you in the middle of the library and start talking about how he noticed you shared a class together was out of the ordinary
the flow of the conversation is a little awkward at first, you’re revising for a final exam and don’t really appreciate the disruption but you’re not confident enough to tell him to leave.
at one point an awkward silence drifts between the two of you until he points out you’ve completely RUINED your notes and have been looking over the wrong lectures for the up and coming physics exam
later on into the night levi’s stood sighing next to you. he tells you to take your pick from the pot noodle section — “hey, i know we literally just met but i’m telling you a chicken pot noodle is gonna make you feel better.”
you’re so distraught that he has to pick it up for you and pay
and that is how you and levi become friends !!!
if it’s of any relevance yes you passed the final (all because of levi giving you his organised binder full of notes and telling you to make use of it)
you know it just sorta happens but through all of the all nighters you’ve pulled with levi by your side you become used to his presence nearby. in fact most of the the time it’s difficult to even find you anywhere without him. you’re both practically joined at the hip
levi’s pretty protective of you, hates the whole party scene but is willing to tag along if you’re going. at first you think it’s because he feels more comfortable stepping out of his comfort zone if you’re there with him but his intentions become more evident later on
any time someone makes you uncomfortable he’s by your side, if you happen to get into any sort of trouble he’s the person people call to help you because who else knows you the way levi does?
currently you and levi are at another party, you tend to keep to yourself and only ever talk to your close friends. it’s also not like you to partake in games, you’re far too nervous to play anything like seven minutes in heaven but for some reason you find yourself wanting to take part JUST this once
maybe it’s the fear of never making fun memories to tell your future children about
then again why on earth would you be telling your children about your experience kissing a random man in a closet??
either way, participating shouldn’t hurt!!! you’ve got to loosen up a little!!!
levi’s a little surprised you agree to play nevertheless he still sits next to you, the both of you have your legs crossed on the floor, your knees are touching and you aren’t sure if he feels the same warm sensation that you feel. it bubbles in the pit of your stomach – you feel oddly content
“levi!! anyone you want the bottle to land on ???” hange a mutual friend of yours leans in handing him the glass bottle
levi gives the bottle a disgusted look before his gaze flicks over to you.
“i’m only here because of y/n, i ‘m not playing.”
that doesn’t satisfy hange and they begin to groan complaining that he can’t stay unless he spins the bottle
“look you don’t have to do anything in the closet, okay??” hange’s begging him at this point, he’s still holding up pretty well and for some reason you’re disappointed. it’s almost like you hoped he’d spin the bottle just so it would land on you
levi takes notice of your frown and guesses you want him to be included, he isn’t one for games like these but if it’ll make you happy so be it. there’s still the chance it’ll land on you and his thought process falters for a second.
he thinks he really wouldn’t mind if the bottle landed on you and so he ends up nodding and agreeing to play.
anyway it’s not as if he isn’t guilty of imagining the two of you being a little more than friends
ok wait!!!! it’s completely innocent HE SWEARS!!!!
he’s never told you about it but sometimes he thinks if he was a little more straightforward that day at the library and asked for your number MAYBE just MAYBE his intentions would be clearer and he wouldn’t be stuck in the friend zone for this long
he should’ve used a stupid physics pick up line he knows you love those
something like – “i’m attracted to you more than an electron’s attracted to a proton.”
or maybe — “i’d fall for you even in the absence of gravity”
ok... maybe you wouldn’t have got that one considering you were revising the wrong content and probably forgot about that topic
he can’t imagine himself saying those things but if it would make you finally see him as a potential love interest and not a best friend he wouldn’t mind having to force it out
but still it’s not really a secret that levi has a soft spot for you, literally everyone can see it. when has he ever gone out of his way to save a seat for anyone? when has he ever willingly gone to a party? WHEN has levi actually let someone lay their head on his shoulder??
he only ever let’s you do that stuff
let’s actually discuss the head on his shoulder thing!!!
whenever finals approach you’re always sucked in by huge amounts of work and barely get to sleep, levi’s always hovering over your shoulder reminding you to catch a few hours but of course you don’t listen. you think you’ll be just fine if you rely on an energy drink and two hours of sleep to get by
but levi knows you better than you know yourself. it’s hour seven into the day and you’re already dozing off in your seat. slowly but gradually your head tilts forward. levi’s sitting across you contemplating whether or not he should prop your head back up like a nice friend would or if he should wait for you to smack your forehead right into the solid oak table.
he ends up making his decision last minute, your head flies towards the table and if it were anyone else he’d just let them jolt awake from the harsh impact but it’s you and his body won’t let him ignore you.
on reflex his hand flies out and in the matter of a split second he’s holding your head back. he’s surprised you haven’t woken up and he’s even more surprised he bothered to help you
before that happens levi knows he likes you, he knows he enjoys your company, he’s aware you make him happy but he thinks he’s willing to just be friends with you because clearly you don’t want to pursue anything.
you haven’t even flirted with him before aside from the witty “you remind me of an exothermic reaction” joke that you made one time
oh and there’s also the additional fact that you had a boyfriend up until quite recently so he’s sure you don’t see him romantically
honestly he’s fine with not dating you but something about seeing you overwork yourself like that has him simmering in anger. if he were your boyfriend he would have forced you into bed whether you liked it or not
if he were your boyfriend he’d never break up with you because he “found someone better.” he can’t even manage to imagine anyone better than you.
levi shuffles into the seat next to yours and places your head onto his shoulder. a few students shoot him questioning looks but the deadly glare he sends back is enough to deter them from coming any closer
it’s a little funny actually, by the time you wake up you’re rubbing at your eyes, you don’t even notice how close levi is to you until his hot breath fans across your neck. it seems like he’s dozed off whilst trying to make notes on fluid dynamics
wait
levi. right. next. to. your. neck.
should you move????
no, he might wake up he barely sleeps and you don’t want to mess up his schedule even more
that day you choose to drift off back to sleep as if you never woke up to his breath against your neck.
“OHHHH LEVI LANDED ON Y/N????”
your head shoots up NOW you’ve completely been dragged away from your thoughts.
“lucky for you both. guess you won’t have to do anything and stand there for seven minutes. told ya levi there was nothing to worry about B-)”
hange without warning pulls you both up by your arms, you’ve yet to see levi’s reaction, you’re too stunned to have noticed his slack jaw or wide eyes
“HAVE FUN!”
and with that said and done you and levi are shoved into the cleaning closet
“well, i’m glad it landed on you. i won’t have to do anything.” levi seems happy as can be, you don’t really know why but it stings a little
he doesn’t even seem to stop for a second to wonder if you’d maybe want to do anything
are you just not his type ????
hange once told you levi liked organised people and well,, you’re anything but organised. you’d probably pass out from the work load of your physics lectures if not for levi always helping you out
scowling to yourself you try to ignore just how awkward the situation is until levi plops down on the floor in front of you
“you okay?” he asks looking genuinely concerned
“i- yeah i’m good.”
your eyes dart away trying to look at anything but him. you can’t deny he looks good today, you actually helped him slick his hair back - the entire time he complained about the hair gel feeling weird but he looks great and now you can’t even stare at him for more than a second
“i’m guessing you’d have preferred if the bottle landed on someone else.”
leaning forward without even noticing it you aggressively deny what he says. “NO!!! i like being stuck here with you.”
levi looks stunned by your outburst but nods “oh, did you feel pressured to join the game? we can leave if you want—”
“no, no i– you aren’t– oh god i mean, look. i can explain– do i need to explain???”
completely choking up in front of him and sputtering before slamming your lips shut and saying absolutely nothing is probably one of the most awkward things you’ve done in your ENTIRE existence
levi reaches out for your knee, something that’s usually seen as him being friendly only feels intimate tonight. his thumb strokes comforting circles into your skin. the situation doesn’t make it any better, essentially you’re meant to be making out with him right now
“is something bothering you?”
there it is again. that look. he only seems more concerned than before and you hate yourself for not even thinking about your friendship before you open your mouth.
“do you not want to kiss me because we’re best friends or is it something else?”
there it is. you’ve said it.
you see levi’s face contort from a mix of confusion to what looks like disgust then shock. screwing your eyes shut you know you’ve ruined everything now. he’s never going to speak to you, never going to approach you again. you’re mentally preparing for him to ditch you at this party right here right now
but then you notice his hand still steadily placed on your knee, he’s now stopped with the circles, his grip is bruising
“do you want me to kiss you?”
his question isn’t really expected, it helps you find the courage to look your best friend in the eye.
it’s pretty dark but you can still make out the familiar shadows of his face. the butterflies rush up from your stomach all the way to your throat.
mild regret fills you, usually his curtains obscure his piercing gaze but the way you’ve styled his hair gives him a better view of you, there’s nowhere for you to hide
not even stopping to think about the possibility of him teasing you right now, all you care about is telling him the truth. you’ve come all the way here you may as well finish off what you’ve started
“would you be mad if i said i’d like it if you did?”
levi doesn’t need any more confirmation than that, he swoops in yanking you by your waist. his knees are still pressed against the floor and so you find yourself leaning down into his mouth and craning your neck downwards
his chest is completely pressed against yours. the drumming of your heart is so loud you feel self conscious but levi’s soft lips moving against yours distract you from that
not even ten seconds in and you feel out of breathe but not in an overwhelming way. levi’s pace isn’t at all what you imagined it to be like. he’s soft and slow yet calloused and rough around the edges, some how he still manages to make the kiss sweet
his left hand leisurely travels to the small of your back, the other hand now caresses your cheek. his fingertips are anything but soft but the way he handles you is tender and endearingly delicate.
you smile into the kiss and almost instantly levi’s lips tug upwards too. his take on seven minutes in heaven is quite easily the most romantic thing you’ve been subjected to. instead of a passionate make out you’ve been given a honeyed introduction to a new side of him
the kiss ends much quicker than you anticipate, you open your mouth to whine and convince levi that the two of you should still have a solid minute left before hange returns but he presses his index finger against your lips
“later. i promise.” his voice is heavy and if his blushed cheeks are anything to go by he’s thoroughly enjoyed your session together
at his reassurance you comply and take the time to have a better look at him
his lips are wet – some of your lip gloss has clearly stuck to him. his hair isn’t as well styled as it was before, seeing him like this makes you feel a surge of confidence. you know you did that to him.
so... what is someone to do with a sudden boost in confidence?
hit your new possible love interest with a pick up line :-) !!!
“heyyy so i know the spring constant of my mattress, would you be interested in taking some data with me?”
slapping your shoulder lightly he’s yet to gain his composure back, levi’s genuinely out of breathe now trying to steady himself and your comment doesn’t do him any favours that’s for sure
“my god you have no sham–”
without warning the door to your left swings open you and levi flinch trying to scramble away from eachother only to fail, hange marches in before stopping dead in their tracks.
all they see is levi knelt in front of you, hair disheveled huffing like his life depends on it
then their focus shifts to you, you’re sure some of your makeup has smudged and the entire scenario looks suspicious
levi seems as if he’s about to warn hange to not tell anyone and keep this a secret for now but they sprint away before any of you have the opportunity to ask for some privacy
not even ten seconds later a collision can be heard alongside a series of thuds and then hange’s yelling towards the end of the hallway “GUYS??? THEY ACTUALLY DID IT???”
for some reason the cheers coming from the living room warm your heart
you guess your friends figured out the direction of your relationship long before you and levi did :-)
314 notes · View notes
loveofafangirl · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
The Right Thing
[Baron Zemo Masterlist] [Marvel Masterlist] 
Pairing: Baron Zemo x Reader (no gender, race, body type given)
Synopsis: As Zemo is sneaking away from his abode in Latvia in search of freedom, he is pulled back when he notices the fight in his home above has become dangerous for those in the streets. *Fluff:Comfort/Care*
Word Count: <1,500
Author’s Note: This is my first time writing Zemo. I don’t know what happened but he is living (and dancing) in my head rent-free so I hope you enjoy this little fic. I typically write third person; second person/reader is not really my area of comfort, so please excuse any mistakes. Not betad. A/N2: This reader becomes “Reader A” on my masterlist. Most fics can be read as this reader with their relationship with Zemo developing (even though they are all mostly one shots)
TW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injuries
Tumblr media
He averted his gaze, pulling the collar of his coat up, attempting to blend in with the crowd forming in the street as he slipped out of his Latvian home. He could hear the clash of Vibranium echoing on the floor above. Children gathered in the street below, looking up curiously at the unusual sounds. He wanted to warn them. He knew the threats of fallout that followed from being too near those so-called heroes better than anyone. However, he feared the delay would cost him his freedom and what he must do. He quickened his pace away from them.
The shattering of a large window sounded behind him as the building took a beating from those fighting. He turned at the noise, too late to do anything more than observe the shards of colorful glass rain down on those below. 
He watched in horror as the debris struck a few people. You caught his attention when you protected a young boy, which caused you to suffer the most. He admired your resolve. You did what he wasn’t strong enough to do. He turned back the way he was heading, trying to forget the damage he saw.
You were curious about the cacophony of sounds coming from the building. You had heard that some of the Avengers were in town. You had secretly hoped to catch a glimpse of them. Not because you were a fan, more because you wanted to see them—to size them up. You had always been a good judge of character, and you wanted to determine for yourself whether they were essentially good or not; although, you already knew the world was far grayer than most people gave it credit. 
The noise above grew louder, and you could tell a battle was ensuing. You watched the number of people growing beside you, more specifically, the number of children enchanted by the unusual sounds. For a moment, fear flashes on your face, remembering Sokovia and the damage left in the wake of the last Avengers fight in the area. 
Before you have time to warn them, screams fill the air as glass and bricks begin to fall. You turn quickly, covering a small boy standing beside you, shielding him from the brunt of the crumbling debris. You cry as the glass pierces your skin; you feel blood begin to drip from some of the larger wounds. 
“Are you okay?” You ask the boy whose body trembles in your arms.
He nods, his lips quivering. He runs off down the street, following the crowd away from the scene without a word to you. 
You drag yourself away, too, hoping to find a quiet spot to nurse your injuries. You’re grateful they’re not worse since you can’t afford to go to the doctor. You turn a corner and sit on an old crate in the quiet alleyway. 
You peel off your shirt and turn to pull the first piece of glass from your back. You cry at the pain but continue on, gritting your teeth.
“Let me?” His voice was soft as he held his hands out in front of him, gesturing toward your wounds. 
Weary of the new stranger, you pull back defensively.
“Please.” He remained where he stood, not moving on you, giving you space. “I can help. You saved that child. Let me help you now. You won’t be able to reach them all on your own.”
Reluctantly, you nod, allowing him closer.
He slowly moves beside you, keeping his hands up, showing you he meant you no harm. 
His touch is softer than you imagined. You don’t even feel his careful fingers removing the glass. Eventually, you work up the nerve to ask, “Are you a doctor?”
“No,” he replies simply and continues his work. “Unfortunately, I have seen more destruction and loss than I would like.”
You sit in silence until he is done. He takes a minute to carefully inspect you, making sure to have removed all of the pieces to prevent infection. 
He wipes the soft fabric of his trench coat over your skin, collecting the blood that had spilled. 
His movements were so tender and warm that you can’t help but relax at his touch. The pain in your back seems to disappear under his care.
“There. All better.”
“Thank you, truly.”
His lip curls up in the corner. “You were a hero today. Many only delude themselves to be that. Few actually prove themselves to be so on occasion.”
You search his face for more. There is pain there that cut deeper than any shard of glass could. The two of you shift closer. There’s something in his eyes that lets you know his thoughts had drifted away from you. You know that look‚ the look of loss—of longing. It was all too common in the recent months and years. 
Before you can step back and thank him once more, his lips brush over yours, slowly. It feels like a dream, and for a moment, you’re afraid to breathe, as it feels like the wind whispering quietly on your lips. His eyes seem brighter at that moment like something had changed. As you decide to give yourself over to it, he pulls away, startled.
“My apologies.” His tone is honest as he steps back. He almost sounds surprised that it had happened.
“It’s okay.” You aren’t in the habit of letting random men kiss you and get away with it, but there was something genuine about him. Your eyes widen, truly focusing on the man in front of you for the first time. His brown eyes are warm and kind. You could tell he had been through a lot, but he had still taken the time to assist you. “It wasn’t you. Well, at least not completely you. It’s been a long time since someone was that…tender to me.” You swallow hard at your confession, unsure of why you had told this stranger that. “Most men want more. Demand it when it is refused.”
His eyes fill with what you think is concern, but he’s hard to read. You wonder if you’re fooling yourself, and it’s a look of pity that you’re trying to rewrite. 
He looks around nervously as people rush past the entrance of the alleyway. “I should be going.”
Filled with courage you didn’t know you had, you take a step forward and brush a kiss on his cheek. Your fingers linger on him. “Thank you again.” 
“My pleasure.” 
His smile, as he begins to move away, left you wanting more—needing to better understand him. You watch him walk toward the busy street. “Wait.”
He turns toward you, his head tilted to the side, waiting for you to continue.
“Why did you help me?” 
“It was the right thing to do.” He stated plainly. 
You nod thoughtfully. Not many people would have helped you like that without wanting more. Not many people know what the right thing is anymore. You’re not even sure you know all the time. “Can I ask you something else?”
He looks around again as if waiting for someone to find him. He offers a curt nod. 
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you need a place to lay low for a day?”
His head tilts further to the side, “why would you ask that?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess, you just look like a man who’s running.”
“How very astute of you.” He marches closer again, studying your face more carefully now. 
“You can stay with me...just for the night,” you clarify quickly.
“You don’t know me. Why would you make such an offer?”
“It’s the right thing to do." You look down, bashful for a moment, before continuing. "Plus, you helped me; I owe you a debt.” Both were partly the truth, but the third reason you couldn’t bring yourself to admit to him was that you weren’t ready to let him go. 
He considers your offer, as he proceeds to attempt to understand you. "One night." 
"One night," you agree. You reach for your shirt, attempting to shake out the remaining bits of glass and put it back over you. 
"Here." He stops you, pulling his lavish coat off his shoulders, and wraps it around you in one fluid motion. 
The gesture catches you off guard, and you let a little noise of surprise slip from your lips. 
He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he isn’t smug about it. He buttons the coat closed, shielding your body from the outside world. Stepping to the side, he extends his arm, a gentle smile on his lips. "After you."
You're not really sure what you're doing or why you made the offer you did, but you do know that for the first time in a long time, there's a smile on your face that you can't seem to wipe away. You touch your fingers to your lips, still mesmerized by the delicate kiss. You step forward, ready for whatever the future has for you. "Follow me." 
[Next Part: A Promise]
Tumblr media
Permatags: @the-soot-sprite
Zemo tags: @montypythonsholysnail​
Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list.
262 notes · View notes
popopretty · 3 years
Text
Storm Bringer Spoilers (10)
A small part from the Epilogue where Chuuya and Dazai met up with Dr. Wollstonecraft. It was from one of the translation requests I got long ago and this part is fun, everyone is so adorable, so here it is.
Feel free to retranslate if you want. Just note that I am not a native speaker in either Japanese or English so I make mistakes sometimes.
Chuuya went back to the pier, and as he was about to get on his bike, a black car slowly approached him. The window at the back seat slowly came down and the person inside called out, "Chuuya".
That was Dazai. It was a rare sight. He had his black suit and his tie on, the formal attire for guests greeting.
"Work is in five minutes."
Chuuya and Dazai were standing under the gangway of a luxury passenger ship.
That was a ridiculously expensive fancy liner. The ship that Shirase had boarded before that was incomparable to it, both in size and materials. Its paint was chalk-white without a spot, the five-story guest rooms were decorated like the finest hotels. No matter where the passengers went, they would be accompanied by a skilled guide on board. The ship was also known for its navigational capability. Even when it sailed at twice the speed of an ordinary ship, its turbulence was less than one tenth of a normal one.
That ship was called "The Boswellian".
The government's passenger ship that only high-ranking government officials were allowed to board.
The gangway was lowered and delegation descended in front of Chuuya and Dazai's eyes.
First were the guardsmen in black suits. They cautiously looked around at all directions. The bulges around their waists showed that they were all carrying guns.
After that came some bearded men who looked like officials. Old, capable, with gray brown eyes that showed no hints of what they were thinking. Their clothes were of top-quality. A man carrying a cane with a golden spiral pattern on it was pushing the crew who was trying to help him off board with the tip of his cane, so crudely as if he was chasing away a stray dog on the street.
"The noble demons of England have showed up." Dazai murmured in a voice that only Chuuya who was standing next to him could hear.
Those people were high-ranking officials of the British government who came here for the post-incident investigation, the “Assassination King incident" that occurred through multiple levels of state secrets. A team of investigators were dispatched to Japan to investigate this serious case that went beyond a normal criminal case, and report to the government. And Port Mafia had come forward to welcome the team and cooperate with them in the investigation, as a party to the case.
Illegal organization Port Mafia is in charge of welcoming the investigation team of the British government.
It was an odd situation, but there was a certain rationale and calculation of the Boss behind it.
First of all, the one who had the whole picture of the incident this time was neither the Ministry of Foreign Affairs nor the police, but Port Mafia. As from the beginning, the European governments had been trying to hide it completely from the Japanese government. Also from the Port Mafia side, they also had a reason to keep a close eye on the movements of the mighty British government.
That was because they suspected that these people might try to eliminate every person of Port Mafia who was involved in this incident to cover up the "Assasination King incident" that arose from the state secrets.
Obviously, Port Mafia had no intention to reveal the truth and the secrets of the case. But it was hard to tell how much the British would believe in words of a criminal organization. That was why Dazai was sent to greet them. If they really had the intention to eliminate the people involved, Dazai would have to negotiate to stop that from happening. If the negotiation failed, then Port Mafia would have to eliminate the investigation team before the other party had the chance to eliminate them. That was why Chuuya was accompanying him. Depending on the other party's actions, this might turn into an interstate war that involved the whole Port Mafia.
“Well, let the fun deception game begin.”, Dazai said excitedly as he headed towards the investigation team.
The guard men immediately reacted to the person approaching, their hands reaching for their waists where the guns were.
“Thank you for coming all the way here, ladies and gentlemen of the great British Empire.” Dazai's attitude changed completely as he greeted the guests with a fluent and courteous voice. “You must be the members of the investigation team? I know this is sudden but may I ask who your representative is?”
“Representative?” the guardsman whom Dazai directed this question to looked rather confused and tilted his head. "This is the technical advisory unit of the investigation team so if you say representative, I think that might be Dr. Wollstonecraft...”
Dr. Wollstonecraft?
Chuuya tilted his head. He had heard that name somewhere before.
“Aa!” Dazai seemed to get it right away. “I heard that name before. That’s the skilled engineer who designed Investigator Adam Frankenstein, right? Hmm... you must be Dr. Wollstonecraft then?” Dazai followed the gazed of the guardsman and called out to the most dignified and oldest man in the investigation team. He had a shaggy white beard, a receding hairline, and two medals for achievements in the military science sector pinned to his chest.
The old man noticed Dazai’s voice and laughed out cheerfully.
“No no, I’m not Dr. Wollstonecraft. I’m just tagging along. Doctor is... Look! She's getting off the ship right now.”
Dazai and Chuuya followed the old man’s eyes and looked up at the ship’s gangway. At the top of it, an oversized travel suitcase was left there unassisted. Wait...
“Okay. Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Wollstonecraft... Oh so this is the said country? It looks bigger than on the map.”
The small figure that appeared from behind the suitcase, no matter how you looked at her...
“... How old is that?”
That was a little girl.
Blond hair, white blouse. The suitcase was big, but she was also small enough to be completely hidden behind it. She wore a big pair of round glasses that covered half of her face. And on her chest were more than twenty medals for achievements in science.
“Hey hey...” Chuuya made a drawn face.
“Oh! It's getting interesting.” Dazai laughed happily.
The little girl struggled down the gangway. She was holding the oversized suitcase, or rather, clinging onto it as it dragged her downwards.
“Heave ho! I am.. heave-ho... Dr... heave-ho! Wollstonecraft Godwin Shelley, heave-ho!”. The girl spoke every time she got off one step, still clinging on to the heavy luggage. “People call me the girl with a genius brain but, heave-ho, those are people who don't have the ability to see the essence of things. Heave-ho! My achievements are thanks to my special skill that make any designs possible. Heave-ho! And because I am a genius.”
“Hey, aren't you going to help her with that heavy luggage?” Chuuya couldn't stand it anymore and asked the bearded old man next to him.
“Hahaha. Doctor is the type of person who doesn't want anyone to touch her luggage.” the old man laughed cheerfully. "Even Her Majesty wouldn't be able to take that from her. Because if we do so, she will start crying and screaming, just like a kid who has gone back 10 years in time."
“If she goes back that much, isn't she gonna end up in her mother’s belly again...?” Chuuya said with a tired face.
“Also, she may look like that, but Doctor was really looking forward to this trip. That case is filled with her favorite essentials for this trip. No-one will be able to take it from her.”
“Old man! Don’t go around talking about me like I am just a normal little girl! I might be short but I will be a full-grown decent adult very soon.... heave-ho!”
Dr. Shelley finally got to the end of the gangway. She wiped off the sweat on her face and fixed her clothes with her hands. “Phew! Nice to meet you again, people of Japan. Well... you are Chuuya-kun right? Thanks for taking care of Adam.”
Upon hearing Adam’s name, Chuuya's face looked like he just shallowed a bitter thing down his throat. "I am not sure." , he then said. "The one who was taken care of was me."
The little girl fixed the big glasses to the middle of her face and stared at Chuuya.
“He died saving me... Doctor, Adam is your best work, right? I'm sorry for breaking it.”
“Hmm.”
Doctor Shelley observed Chuuya from the left, from the right, then stared at him closely from the front. Like she was observing an interesting research subject.
"You are right, Adam is my greatest work." , she said with her arms crossed. “Rather than sending him to a good-for-nothing island country like this for investigation, I’d have him in the lab and continue the research to upgrade him.”
Chuuya listened in silence. His expression was not looking at something in front of him at that moment. What he was seeing was some scenes of the past.
Doctor Shelley cleared her throat like a child then continued, “The best thing about Adam is that, he is equipped with the intelligence to think and judge the situation by himself. In other words, Adam chose to sacrifice himself out of his own will, his own judgement.” Dr. Shelley smiled. “Because you are worth it. I believe in Adam. I appreciate your apology, but it’s not something you need to worry about.”
Chuuya opened his mouth, trying to say something but he couldn't put it into words. Just like a child who had forgotten his way home, he just stood there with a stunned look on his face.
Seeing Chuuya like that, Dazai giggled as if he couldn't do anything about it.
“First off, from the beginning I didn't like the idea of using Adam for such a worthless investigation.” Dr. Shelley crossed her arms, looking sullen. “The government is always like that! They send out machine investigators for missions and when they are done with it, they just blow it up together with all the secret information. Even though we could have got the best test data from interacting with different cultures from those solo missions! Just because it's for the sake of human's life, they think that they can neglect science like that?”
To Chuuya and Dazai’s surprise, Doctor Shelley ordered her subordinate for “that” and had a black tube the length of an arm brought to her.
"That's why, such an ill-natured person like me had installed a detachable sub-processor and non-volatile memory. Without telling the government.” She took out the thing inside the black tube. “In here.”
The thing inside the tube that had the length of an arm, was actually an arm.
That was Adam’s right arm, the arm that Chuuya sent flying and stuck into the ground when he was escaping from inside of the Demonic Beast Guivre.
“This is...” , a question mark appeared on Chuuya’s face. “After the incident, I searched the scene but couldn't find it anywhere. Why is it here?”
“I mean, it's rather obvious to do this, isn't it?” Dr. Shelley put her finger on her huge travel suitcase. After her vital signals were verified, the auto-lock was released.
The figure that came out from the suitcase took the arm. And he said as he was attaching it to himself, “Do you want to hear an Android joke, Chuuya-sama?”
Chuuya stood still in shock. He kept his mouth open in surprise. Finally, he took a breath slowly through that mouth. A deep breath, as deep as he could. Then his expression changed as if he was about to burst.
And he laughed, "Hahaha...!"
187 notes · View notes
woniepop · 3 years
Text
TYPES OF DATES ENHYPEN WOULD TAKE YOU ON!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairings: Enhypen x Gender Neutral! Reader
Warnings: cursing and mentions of alcohol if you squint
Word Count: about 300 - 400 per member
a/n: this is my first enhypen work if it sucks pls tell me LOL I ALSO LEFT HEESUNGS ON A SAD NOTE OOPS. Also I wrote some of this at 2 am and it is raining so hard. I live in SoCal and I feel like I can’t function when it rains so I had to blast music in my headphones but it’s okay Iz*one’s Fiesta is top tier. I did not mean for it to turn out this long lol.
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Lee Heesung
- Karaoke
Sitting on the couch of the private karaoke room, exhausted having just sung and danced all of I Can’t Stop Me, Heesung reaches out to take some of the kimbap you had made together before karaoke happened, kind of like two dates in one day. Since he was always busy, he wanted to spend the most amount of time he could with you this weekend, in case he couldn’t meet you the next. Heesung always did a great job of making you feel loved and appreciated, and today he especially wanted to give all his love and attention to you.
“We should rap all of Canceled in one breathe” Heesung suggests, knowing it was a whole three minute song. Although you know you’d die, you nod excitedly, ready to shout at the top of your lungs “THIS YOU?” because Tana definitely gets canceled every 5-7 business days. He starts off the song, both screaming at the top of your lungs, starting off with Bryce Hall 😼. The song goes very swimmingly actually, definitely taking more than one or two breathes.
Taking a call from your phone, you step outside so as to not disturb the caller with Shake it Off. Your mother wanted you home soon, but you desperately wanted to spend more time with Heesung. Stepping back into the room, you decide one more song is short enough to catch the last train home, you grab the remote and pick your last song, Perfect. It was definitely slower paced than the songs you had sang before but you wanted to have at least one moment of romance before it’s completely dead. Taking your hands, he wraps them around his neck and places his hands on your hips and sways side to side as he sings every word beautifully. Even if you could sing as good as him, he was always so hypnotizing when he sang to you. Ending the song with a kiss, you guys both pull away, very sad at the fact that the night has come to an end.
THE REST ARE UNDER THE CUT!!
༑ ࿐ྂ。Jay Park
- Aquarium
- Aquarium
Walking through the hallways hand in hand, you enjoy each other’s presence while admiring all the children excited about the stingray that just swam by. Watching Jay’s face light up when he had finally found the sea otters, you giggle at how cute it was. “Look at all the baby sea otters, Y/n, they’re so cute ahhhh'' He says eagerly. Pulling out your phone to take a picture of him, he grabs your hand and takes your phone. “No, Y/n, we have to take this picture togetherrrr.” he whines. Sighing, you agree and wait for him to find someone to help take the picture for him, obviously right next to the sea otters. 
Continuing down the aquarium building, you find the automatic sliding door leading to the outside. Knowing exactly what lies beyond those doors, you pull Jay’s hand and rush out. As a kid, you loved coming to the aquarium to spend time at the petting tank, and now you got to experience it with Jay. Finding a spot at the tank, you dip your hand in and touch the bamboo sharks. You sigh in relief at the nostalgia of it, and turn your head to Jay. “Don’t you want to touch them too?” You ask innocently. Faced flushed, he frantically shakes his head, giving you a blatant no.
Laying your head on his shoulder, you bask in his presence, exhausted by the exciting day you had. Turning on his phone to check the time, you notice he’d set his lockscreen to you. “Did you take that while I was petting the sharks?” Embarrassed, he turns away and avoids the question. “HEY, I could take a picture of you alone for my wallpaper but you could??? Why is this so unfair???” you ask. 
“Because…” He says with a sheepish smile on his face. You quickly take out your phone and snap a picture. After a moment of playful fighting and begging to delete the photo on Jay’s end, he ultimately gave up and let you save it as your lock screen as well.
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Jake Sim
- Laser tag
Having Jake as a partner, he’d always taken you on more high energy, adrenaline rushing dates, and today was no different. This date, however, he decided to take you to play laser tag, something you had never done before. Entering the lobby, you both decide to be on the same team for the first round, which helped you feel a bit of relief. Choosing a vest to put on, you get very very tangled in it, which causes Jake to laugh a bit but he eventually helps you out.
During your first round, Jake helps you out, staying by your side the entire time and even holding your hand to lead you through the room. It felt really nice, seeing him so protective of you in the moment, but you knew better than to like the thought of it too much, because the next round was going to be a lot different. Unexpectedly, your team lost, which made Jake feel even more competitive and pumped up for the next round.
The next round starts, and surprise!!!!! You and Jake are on opposing teams. It starts off very well actually :D. As soon as you enter the room, your heart starts beating out of your chest and you’re so nervous to be alone. Cautiously maneuvering through the hallways, you scan the premises thoroughly, knowing if Jake ever sees you throughout the game you’d be screwed. Surprisingly enough, you go a bit of time before you hear your vest’s alarm go off, signalling to you that someone has gotten you. You look all around you taking some time before finding Jake crouching on the other side of the wall. You run to the other side of the same wall, and decide to scare him before he could shoot you again. It works out very well, because the next time you see him, he screams and drops to the floor in shock. Taking this chance, you shoot his vest and run away, leaving him no time to get you back.
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Park Sunghoon
- Birthday Party
Laying on the floor of your living room with Sunghoon, you lie on your back, trying to cool your body down as much as possible. The hot and humid Korean summers were definitely always fun, but not when you were craving cuddles. Thinking of activities the both of you could do without overheating, you think back to how refreshing all the ice cream was at your friend’s recent birthday party. Although it wasn’t even close to your guys’ birthdays, it gave you a great idea. You shoot up and rush to get dressed, leaving Sunghoon very confused. 
Finished, you come back to the living room. “Sunghoon, get dressed. We’re going to the market.” Without question, he does as you ask and you both head to the market in no time. 
Walking hand in hand down the ice cream aisle, you grab all the flavors you enjoy, filling your whole basket with different ice creams, toppings, fruit, drinks, and even a cake. “You’re quite hungry, aren’t you?” Sunghoon teases, earning him a slap to the arm.
As soon as you get home, you send Sunghoon alone to the bedroom, telling him you need time to prepare everything. You had pulled all the stops, whipping out the cheap snoopy shaved ice maker, birthday party hats, streamers, balloons, and banners. It was no one’s birthday in particular, but the fake birthday party put you in a festive and refreshing mood. You had set up a giant ice cream sundae bar, and had even made lemonade. 
Calling Sunghoon to come out of the bedroom, he was not surprised but very appreciative. He knew you’d pull sh!t like this Wanting to make it even more fun, he suggests to make sundaes for one another, which you happily agree to. The day was so fun, you had forgotten all about the time you had a few hours earlier, suffering in the heat of your apartment. 
Sunghoon on the other hand, was so happy that you planned something like this. He was never one to do anything cute for you unless you asked, begged so this time he wanted to show you how grateful he was to you by giving you one FREE boop on the nose. Scooping some ice cream with his fingertip, he lightly taps your nose, leaving the melted strawberry ice cream to drip off your nose.
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Kim Sunoo
- Brunch
Being a foodie yourself, you and Sunoo would always go cafe hopping to try out different desserts and drinks. This Saturday morning in particular, you both decided it was time for a change. This change for the greater good would include brunching for hours like stuck up rich moms and judging everyone in the facility, as you do when you are a brunching mother. Dressing in your finest brunching attire and of course, sunglasses, your waiter leads you to the table and you strut down that walkway like you know the difference between regular and Belgian waffles.
Crossing your legs at the same time and sipping your orange juice, wishing you could have added some champagne. Your orders finally arrive, having ordered the classic avocado toast and eggs benedict. Starting with the avocado toast, as per tradition, you and Sunoo construct the perfect first bite, shove it into your mouths, make eye contact and a disgusted face, even though it was very obvious that you guys thought it was delicious.
“I feel they nailed the seasoning because avocado, egg, and bread are known to be very bland flavors. The poached egg was perfectly runny in the middle, which was so satisfying to me, especially knowing that the chef can actually cook an egg right.” You start off, pretending you were some high status food critic, above Gordon Ramsey almost.
Sunoo takes his spoon and splits apart the poached egg on the eggs benedict. The egg just so happened to be a tad bit overcooked and the yolk didn’t rush out as smoothly as the other one did. You make eye contact with Sunoo, the most disgusted look plastered on your faces. A couple seconds pass by and you burst out laughing, forgetting about the egg yolk and shoving a huge bite straight into your face.
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Yang Jungwon
- Zoo
When you first suggested going to the zoo with Jungwon he looked at you with a confused face. He loved spending time with you, but why the zoo? It’s stinky and there are too many children everywhere. Nevertheless, after much convincing, he gave in and went with you. The screams of all the tiny children were giving him a headache, but he kept reminding himself he was here for you. Seeing the alligators first, it was definitely acting up and snapping its mouth very angrily and hissing. Just because he wanted to be nice by coming to the zoo with you, didn’t mean he was going to hold back on his snide remarks. 
“That’s you that one time I accidentally ate your pastry.” He comments. Rolling your eyes and smacking him in the arm, you continue on the path looking at all the animals in awe. The whole time you walked around you bickered back and forth, many “That’s you when/cause”s being thrown around mercilessly. 
The comment that took the cake and left both of you speechless was one made by you. Walking towards the flamingos, everyone knows them for being notoriously stinky. Pinching your nose to go with the comment you were about to say, you chuckle. “It smells like that one time you accidentally farted in your VLive.” you manage to get out with a straight face. I made that up lol
Jungwon stops in his tracks, looking at you like you had just betrayed him. .He stomps his feet on the floor and whines in the middle of the walkway. “Y/nnnnnn you know I’m sensitive about thatttt.” The time you spend with him after you get home consists of him clinging to you, demanding your undivided attention, cuddles and kissies, and for you to blow dry his hair after he showers. 
Tumblr media
༑ ࿐ྂ。Nishimura Riki
- eating competition
Watching mukbangs all day and cuddling with Niki definitely got both of you hungry pretty quickly. With Niki being a bit homesick and you wanting to improve your cooking, a great idea pops into your heads. You wanted to cook Japanese food for Niki, hoping to aid his homesickness, and Niki wanted to see how much food he could shove down his face until he explodes. And with that, your whole date had become a food eating competition. 
Setting all the food down on the table, you had done a very good job. Working your ass off to make not only omurice with curry, but also yakisoba and fried chicken, you were very ready to start your whole competition. Portioning it out evenly with a scale beforehand, you and Niki countdown together and start scarfing down food like you’ve never eaten before. With a mouth full of rice, Niki manages to get out a “It’s really good.” Knowing he liked your food made you feel so proud even though you had just shoved a whole piece of fried chicken in your mouth. 
Several minutes, three enhypen members walking past you judgmentally, and 10 napkins later, you and Niki were too stuffed you even have food this close to you. Queue the rest of the enhypen members, they oh so generously gave you their service and finished the food for you guys. Concluding that you and Niki could not in fact eat two family sized meals in one sitting, you lie on the couch about to pass out. 
“That was so fun. We should do that again.” Niki says while groaning from stomach pain. “And thank you for thinking about my homesickness and making me Japanese food. I love you so much.” He adds. Ending the day with complaining about being too full, planning the next competition, and even inviting the other members, you both pass out an hour after you had eaten and were punished with the dishes in the morning for being cringely in love out in the open like that. 
241 notes · View notes
kidney9-9 · 3 years
Text
Heartbreak Girl - Peter Parker
Tumblr media
Anonymous asked:  Hey could you write something with fuckboy!Peter being friends with the reader since high school, and one day he goes to the bar they use to go and she's there, sat alone, crying cause her boyfriend broke up with her to get back with his ex. So he sits with her, even joking about the fact that she has been crying cause he doesn't think it's something serious, but then he's all like: aww come here, wanna tell me what happened? And he comforts her, telling how amazing she is, and that she doesn't deserve someone that can't see how awesome she is AND she invites him over. So... the following day it's just the reader being all like ok so this never happened, and even tho Peter is like: yeah yeah definetly, he is falling hard for her 🥺
Hi sweetie! Hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in. I was listening to 5sos while writing this and the song “Heartbreak girl” popped up, and I had to tittle it after the song omg! Masterlist linked in bio, and tags in a reblog. A little note before you continue! All my writing includes that everyone is of age. Also I thought I should say that please research/plan and use protection for sex! My friend and I spoke about this earlier, and I just wanted to restate that it is very important to use protection! 
Peter Parker x Reader (Smut with Plot) Warnings: Mention of underage drinking, more drinking, mention of cheating in past relationship, smut, little angst with happy ending! And unprotected sex (please use protection)! Word Count: 4.3k
--
You scooted closer to the bar, sighing into your drink once again. You’ve been here for two hours, and already had a few beers, feeling like shit. A tear rolled down your face as you thought back again to Emmett. This morning he fucking sent you a text telling you to pack his shit up and put it outside because he was leaving you. When he got to your apartment, you thought you could work it out, see why he was acting like that. You thought it was just a joke at most, but it wasn’t. He was going back to his ex, Haley, even after all the shit he talked about her to you.
It was ridiculous, you didn’t understand it. You’ve been with him since freshmen year of college; you raised your eyebrows at the thought. It’s been four years and he did that. You really thought you’d marry the guy, or at least buy a house together in the future. You guys even talked about engagement rings for fuck’s sake. You tilted your head back, gulping down the last bit of your beer, before setting it down, and pushing it to the side.
The bartender glanced over to you, shaking his head before placing another beer on the table for you, and you rolled your eyes back to him, but you were thankful he didn’t speak up. You tapped your fingernails into the glass as another few tears rolled down your face, and you were glad you were a silent crier, even though it was upsetting.
You sighed, drinking the beer again and set it down with an unintentional slam. You flinched before shaking your head to yourself, glancing up towards the doorway. You’d probably have to call an uber home or something, unless you stopped drinking now and had a few cups of water. You bit your lip, wondering why you’d even come here instead of staying at home to drink, so you could save money. You focused again back to the entrance, eyes narrowing when you noticed a familiar face.
It was Peter Parker, you realized. And you instantly turned around in your seat, just hoping he didn’t see you cry now. Anyone you knew, seeing you cry, was a no-no. You didn’t like it when people saw the vulnerable side of you like that. It made you feel awkward and uncomfortable.
You thought you were in the clear as you sighed and turned back to the entrance again with your spinning barstool, but you were wrong. Your eyes widened when you saw he took a seat right next to you.
“Y/n, you’re making me feel like I’m invisible here!” Peter laughed, greeting you. He noticed you right away when he walked in, it was the bar the two of you would sneak into all the time during high school. And you were drinking the same beer as well, it was a shitty one, he didn’t understand why you’d ever like it but that was something he remembered well about you.
“Hey…” You responded, trailing off as you quickly wiped at your eyes, trying to make the tears go away. Peter frowned, realizing you were crying, and he reached out to pat your back slowly.
“Aw Y/n! Come here, give me a hug. Want to talk about what happened?” Peter whispered, leaning close to you in concern. It’s been weeks since the last time you saw him, he’d been too busy with his job at Stark Industries. You shook your head back to him while shrugging, feeling as if you should tell him now, because he wouldn’t let it go. He was stubborn, always wanting to help you even if you didn’t want it though you knew you needed it.
You didn’t give him a hug straight away, worried that you’d get makeup on him from your tears, instead you started to talk. “I, uh, Emmett broke up with me today.” You whispered, voice cracking on his name. Peter’s face hardened at your words.
“That asshole did what?” He spat out, shaking his head in anger. You rolled your eyes back to Peter, not in the mood to tell him the full story, because you were sure it would make you feel more upset, and there was a lot more to the story other than Emmett leaving for Haley.
Peter’s arm slid over your shoulders now, bringing you closer as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sorry. You’re worth more than that shitbag piece of piss stained…” He stopped, seeing another tear drop. His other hand wiped your cheek softly, collecting the tear slowly.
“I know I am. Just wish I didn’t waste all that time on him now.” You responded, bringing out a small smile at Peter’s actions. Things had been on and off with Emmett at times, but you thought it would last, not him leaving for that girl.
“Let’s think about it this way, now you have the rest of your life, to spend with the people you feel happy with.” Peter murmured back, trying to comfort you more. You sniffled slightly, feeling sad but each time you saw him smile at you that way, you had a hiccup of hope building up.
“Yeah, like you.” You laughed back slowly, the laugh was faked, but it helped you a bit more. Peter smiled back to you, kissing your cheek again before looking to the bartender and ordering a glass of water for you.
He always was so sweet with you, and you appreciated him.
“I think you’re one of the best people I know out here.” He whispered to you. A blush had darkened over his cheeks when he noticed how close he was to you, but you didn’t seem to have much of a reaction, instead you invited him closer to you by setting your head on his shoulder. Peter smiled, wondering how a guy like Emmett ever had a chance with you.
Sure, Peter’s been with several over people before, but he’s always had a crush on you. He flirted openly with you so many times, but you never realized it either, which he found charming. He never pushed you though, into anything romantic. He would never do that type of shit, that was something only assholes did.
“Thanks Peter. Uh, he cheated on me, sort of. Told me he was going back to Haley instead. They’ve been talking for at least a year I think…” You admitted, just rambling out the problems before scrunching your face up together. You didn’t even want to talk about it, but it just flowed out.
Peter let out a surprised laugh, pulling away from you before shaking his head, “What? I thought you’d walk in on him or something… but that is shitty.” You groaned at him, nudging his shoulder and not liking his laugh.
“Would you do something like that?” You questioned him feeling a spike of anger rise. If anyone thought it was okay, you wouldn’t ever want to talk with them again. It just pissed you off and made it made you more upset that Peter laughed about it.
“What! I’m sorry. No, I wouldn’t do that. I laughed because Emmett is an ass like that.” Peter responded, eyes widening when he saw you scoff in return.
“Yeah right. You play with people’s feelings all the time. I’m not letting you forget about Olivia from the grocery store.” You retorted, glancing away from Peter. He sighed, his grin turning into a frown at the mention of Olivia. He made the mistake of going on a date with her, arguing throughout the whole night and then officially broke it up when he made out with her cousin at a party.
“That was… not the best on my part, but Y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I wanted to brighten this fucked up thing. I’m sorry. And uh, I’m sticking by my statement that Emmett is an ass.” He responded, gazing at you as you slowly took a sip of water, forgetting your beer now.
“Yeah, Emmett the ass.” You murmured into the glass of water. Peter nodded back to you, wiping your cheek again as he saw another tear fall.
“Every tear that falls, I will tell you how amazing you are. Promise.” He whispered to you, making you stifle a giggle. You shook your head back to him, after he flicked your arm playfully.
“Shut up Peter,” You chuckled as he took a deep breath, preparing for the compliment.
“Ladies and gentlemen and nonbinary folk here! This girl – right here, you see her?” He paused, gaining the attention of everyone in the bar. Your eyes widened and you quickly hid your face in your hands, getting embarrassed as Peter continued after a few people called back out their answers.
You gasped when you peeked out, seeing he climbed up onto the bar. “She’s fucking incredible! This beautiful, intelligent, perfect human right here. The first time I met her, I instantly thought, fuck, I want to be her best friend. You know, she’s got that type of smile you’ll always remember. And she’s so special, like it makes you wonder if you’ve ever met anyone like her. She’s just - amazing.” Peter stopped as you started to slap his legs, trying to get him to stop.
“She’s the girl I’d give the world to!” He yelled out and you finally yelped out, tugging his whole leg down. He collapsed on the bar, laughing loudly as other hooted for him and the bartender slapped his back with the towel. You tugged him off the bar carefully, laughing as you started finally feel full happiness this evening.
“Parker!” You yipped, shaking your head as you tried to calm your laughter down. He started to laugh along with you, dragging you off the chair to stand with him. You shook your head before pulling him for a hug, not caring about the makeup smear now, instead just needing to be close to him.
“You’re fucking insane.” You mumbled into his ear, still silently giggling.
He hummed back, hugging you even tighter, “Yeah, for you.”
A wild thought invaded you as you gazed up to Peter, almost opening your mind to the various possibilities of what might happen. The way the light shinned on his face, his smile growing each second, he hugged you, the way he’d always kiss your cheeks or your forehead, to the crazy shit he’d do for you. He’s always been this Peter, the Peter that’s always looked at for you, and stayed with you, and fuck – if you weren’t going to take a chance now… when would you?
In an instant, you leaned up, capturing his lips in a soft hesitant kiss. Peter didn’t respond for a few moments, before he gasped, and kissed you back, pulling you even closer to his body. His arm slipped down and grasped around your back tighter, and his other went to the back of your head as he kissed you more passionately.
It was crazy, you couldn’t stop, you wanted more of him now. Fingers crawled under his shirt as you cupped his face, opening your mouth and creating an even sloppier kiss. Moans and whimpers crawled out of each of you, noises muted around you and finally you pulled away, needing air.
“Come home with me?” You asked, breathing heavily against his ear, almost propping your leg over his. Peter shuddered, nodding back to you, and pulled your lips back to his for a shorter strong kiss.
“Yes, yeah.” He whispered back, letting go of you and pulling out his wallet. He tossed a few tens to the waiter and picked your purse up for you before grabbing onto your hand and tugging you out the exit. You laughed, stumbling after him to his car.
--
You gasped as he slammed you against your bedroom wall, biting down on your bottom lip and hands going everywhere. His hair tickled you as he peppered kisses down south after he tore your clothes off. You giggled when he leaned back up, kissing your ear causing it to tickle.
You pushed back on Peter, making him fall back onto your bed with a surprised laugh. You quickly followed him, unbuckling and pulling down his pants slightly before you leaned up and kissed him again. The kiss was sloppy, everything was so messy, and you loved it. You breathed against his neck as he changed positions with you and then he pulled away.
He stood up, rushing to get out of his boxers and completely taking off his pants. His shirt was already thrown off near your front door. You sorted yourself on the bed, moving up in a more comfortable area, not caring about how many pillows were behind you. You let out a laugh when he stumbled slightly and he grinned back to you, “Wait – I need to know if you want this, and it’s not just you being drunk.” The phrase made you pause and purse your lips together.
“Uh, well I do want this, I’ve thought about it very briefly – it’s just, do we really have to talk about this now?” You struggled, almost wanting to groan at yourself for what you said. It was true, but you knew that even if you weren’t drunk that someday, sometime, in the future, you would hook up with Peter. Like, it was bound to happen. No way would you be in your 70s one day, thinking about all your hook ups, and Peter wouldn’t be on that list. He’s the classic fuckboy, with a few feelings sometimes.
“Oh, come on, what’s that supposed to mean?” Peter almost moaned back, not in any type of sexual way, but you wished it were. Fuck, you really didn’t like deep conversation during any sexual encounter, but right now, you would definitely rather have a philosophical conversation with Peter instead of this one.
You couldn’t count this as a deep conversation at all. He is Peter Parker after all; you wouldn’t expect him to want to talk at this moment (out of every moment that could happen). “Are you going to answer me, Y/n? I mean… I don’t want to do this if you’re going to regret it.” He popped up again, and you raised your eyebrows at yourself, realizing you fell into silence for a while.
“Oh – wait, you think I’d regret it? Parker, there’s no way I’ll regret this. I mean, maybe if I forgot to do laundry yesterday cause then I’ll have to do more shit tomorrow, but other than that I’m fine. I’m not that drunk, I drank a ton of water earlier, still very coherent, and very much consent to this. Fuck man, the only thing I regret here is Emmett!” You rambled, going on and on till you knew it was a bit too much, watching Peter crack a little smile before it ended with a full-blown giggle.
“Okay, okay, no more Emmett for tonight then. He’s – ugh, what did you even see in him?” Peter continued on, making you roll your eyes. Now you knew it was turning into teasing and you nudged him a bit, shaking your head.
“Look at it this way then if you have to know. You’re everything Emmett is not.” You spoke, tilting your head to him slightly. Peter took a long gaze down to your lips before he looked back up, shifting a bit.
“Hmm, that’s an interesting opinion you’ve got there. I hope that means I’m a good guy.” Peter retorted, his voice dropping down to something similar to a whisper. You smiled slightly, nodding back as you leaned in closer to him once again.
He ended up falling back on the bed, next to you, slipping his hand on your cheek to pull you in for a messy kiss. The kiss ended up being so heated that you moaned out in surprise when he slid an arm on your backside, propping you up on his lap. You loved how he was handling you; it was so different from Emmett – you shook the thought from your head, not wanting to make anymore comparisons between them. But either way, the delicacy of the way he held his hands against you and poured out all his lust in these actions made you feel like jelly, almost sliding yourself more onto him. At the same time, the desperation of his kissing, the urge to feel more, it amazed you too.
How come you didn’t sleep with him before this? You found yourself asking this in your head a few times tonight.
“I’ve imagined this for ages but never thought it would ever happen, much less be like this. You’re so fucking beautiful.” Peter huffed out after slipping from your lips for a moment. You raised your eyebrows momentarily, but you didn’t pay much mind to what he was saying, it was all just from the heat of the moment. You doubt he actually did think of this when he was so busy with everything in his life.
“Mm, okay.” You hummed back blinking your eyes closed as your tongue took a sweet taste of the sweat built upon his neck. Peter felt himself intake a large breath as he laid down against the pillow, bringing you along with himself.
“I wanted to treat with you the most respect I can give, make this all fucking proper.” Peter continued, feeling his cock briefly contact your bare thighs. He groaned, bringing you even closer to him and you gasped when you felt your pussy pulsing even more.
“Peter, shut up and fuck me.” You finally deadpanned, staring at his eyes as you watched them widen in surprise for a moment. He didn’t say anymore, as he started to finally put all his focus on you, instead on what he should have done.
He gripped your back again, and you shivered as you started to position yourself on top of him. Peter helped you, by aligning his cock with your entrance, and instantly as you slowly went down, he swore under his breath.
Your eyes watered a bit from the girth, not adjusted to this new size, but you slowly pushed yourself more and the familiar feeling of pleasure quickly came back, heating you up even more. He sat up more to kiss you properly without straining his neck, and he slid his tongue out around your bottom lip. His hands both wound up on your head, and your back helping you start a rhythm.
“You’re so hot.” You whined as he started to take more control, pushing in and out of you as his kisses trailed sloppily down your chest. Your breasts felt quite left out of the equation but once he captured your left breast into his hand and sucked and bit into different regions, you felt even more alive.
The faster he went, the harder he pounded into you now, after he switched positions again. You were laying against the mess of pillows and blankets and he as leaning against your figure, focusing on making you feel good.
There was a moment he swore he almost came at, seeing you stare at him with your mouth wide open, crying out his name. That stare held so much he had yearned for, for so long, and now that he finally saw and felt you in this way, he didn’t want this to be only once. He had a feeling you didn’t want that either.
His hips were almost uncontrollable at this point, shuddering and jerking into you as he cried out your name. It was silenced quickly by your lips and you dug your fingers into his hair, pulling harshly and curling his hair up as your hips started to meet his thrusts more as he hit your g-spot so many times. 
Your moans grew louder, feeling him graze over your clit so many times with his fingers. He knew what he was doing, extending your impending orgasm, as that flame started to grow even more in you. It felt like you needed to burst, it was just so much pleasure, you had felt your eyes watering again and you had trouble properly kissing him without sounds leaving your mouth.
“Oh fuck!” You cried out, and Peter quickly responded to you, kissing you once more, harder than before, “I’m going to come.” His words made you spiral, only needing that to also fall into orgasm. And just as you reached it, your back leaned up into him even more. Your eyes almost rolled away as the feeling released around your body, almost feeling an incredible waterfall had hit you in a way you couldn’t describe.
Peter cried out a final time, pushing out of you as his cum shot out against your stomach. You could barely see what was happening, but your eyes fluttered closed shortly after you felt Peter collapse next to you. He pressed a warm kiss on the side of your head, making you hum quietly.
The two of you didn’t sway from the position for the rest of the night. Sleep came easier than you thought tonight.
--
As you drank your morning coffee, you were stuck in a state of shock. Last night was incredible beyond words, and you couldn’t even come to explain the exact feelings you had with and for Peter. And you also concluded that it would be best to pretend it didn’t happen. It was for the best for Peter and you! He might have had a fling or something that you didn’t know about, and you didn’t want to prevent him from getting into any relationships because he felt bad for you… and you needed to focus on getting rid of everything that reminded you of Emmett.
You glanced down to your mug with a grimace, realizing that Emmett gifted it to you for a birthday a few years ago. You couldn’t just waste the coffee, so you just chugged the rest, hoping Peter would get out of the shower soon. You realized you didn’t speak with him this morning, instead you had rushed out of the apartment when you saw the mailman try to slam a few of your packages into your little mailbox. You had the best view for this, and always had trouble with the mailman.
After getting back inside with your slightly damaged packages, you heard the shower running and here you were now. You wiped your forehead lightly with the back of your hand, huffing out a breath as you stared down at the mug for the last time. “Bye bitch.” You whispered, dropping the mug straight into the trash can in your kitchen, not caring how loud the glass shattered once it hit the bottom.
After a few more minutes, you heard the shower turn off. And almost after another five minutes, Peter walked out of the bathroom wearing his clothes from the day before, shaking his damp hair with his hands, hoping he didn’t look funny with his hair like that. You sent an awkward grin his way, “Hey there,” Your voice made you internally cringe. How long has it been since you had a one-night stand? Oh right, never! You didn’t know the etiquette to follow, but instead you knew you needed to get to the point.
Before Peter could say anything, you shook your head to yourself, “So! Uh, let’s agree that this never ever happened. And um, I appreciate that you were there for me – but like yeah, as friends! Cool, right?” You rambled nervously, not wanting to glance as he took a seat at the counter.
When he nodded and let out a laugh, you sighed in relief. “Yeah, yeah… You sure?” Peter asked, leaning into the counter, staring up at you. He felt so much bubblier today compared to the last few weeks and he knew his feelings for you would only triple now since last night. 
And seeing you act this way made him feel bittersweet.
He knew you needed to move on completely before you ever thought about having a relationship with someone, especially himself. He knew to give you space, but it hurt to part after such a special night with you that he’s been dreaming about for so long.
When you restated your previous words, Peter found himself smiling still, although a bit less. He slid his hand over yours, hoping you knew that he would always be there for you. He didn’t want to admit it to himself again, having thought he slightly gotten over you a few years ago, but he knew he was falling in love once more.
“Okay, I’m down for pretending. Call me when you need me… or like whenever, I don’t care. I mean I do care! I want to spend more time with you, I- okay, I’ll stop there. But call me or text me soon.” Peter stumbled over his words, as if he were actually admitting his feelings to you. Once he was done, he squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.
You scratched your cheek as you nodded back to him, “Yeah, I will. Thank you, Peter.” You responded, realizing this was goodbye for a bit. He picked up his things, waving once more to you before walking out of the apartment.
You scrunched your eyebrows together, not remembering he brought that bag last night. But you quickly pushed the thought off when you saw him walk away from the building, through your window. You were left with a feeling that you couldn’t explain again, this time you knew it was something you had to confront sooner or later with Peter.
278 notes · View notes
starglow-xx · 3 years
Text
owning a bakery and being discovered by the ada & port mafia (part 1)
platonic! edogawa ranpo x f! reader
type of writing: head canons !!
this is part of my head canon series, flour & fluff !!
tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!
series synopsis: owning a bakery at 20 is tough; even more so when you have to handle members of two opposing organizations! this is your journey to meeting these fools and creating an unlikely bond with each of them! but only at the cost of your peace and sanity. 
fandom: bungou stray dogs
content: fluff & platonic stuff
author’s notes: this will be a multiple part series of head canons and this is only part one! this series will include both the agency and port mafia members, and then something special for the end. maybe i’ll even write a real one shot/scenario for it. if there’s enough interest, i might open up a tag list for this! i hope you all enjoy!! <33
also, ranpo is 25 in this part; kenji, atushi, kyouka, and the tanizaki siblings aren’t part of the agency yet, only yosano, kunikida, and dazai are, but in the next couple parts, it will be established that the tanizakis are
and (n/n) means nickname :)
Tumblr media
meeting the greatest detective
your bakery, Sakura’s, which you named after your late grandmother (who was also your guardian), went into business when you were 18 right after graduating high school
who needed a culinary course when you were trained by dear ol grandma?
your grandmother died when you were 16, just as you started your second year of high school
you were devastated of course, but you knew she wouldn’t want you to wallow over it too long
so in those last two hard years of high school, you took part time jobs at other bakeries and saved lots and lots of money
by graduation, using your life savings, the money your grandmother had left for you, and all the money you earned working, you were able to buy the small building—with a reasonable amount of money left over to survive— you and your grandmother had been eyeing back in her hometown, yokohama, to start your bakery
the building was a bit run down, but you were planning to give it a makeover anyways
it was a bit smaller compared to other buildings around, only having two stories, but on the plus side, the second floor had taller ceilings and was an apartment
is that realistic? probably not but bare with me here 
aNYWHO
you finished putting your bakery up in about 4 months, then finished up your apartment 2 more after
you opened Sakura’s at 7 in the morning then closed at 8 in the evening
when you first started, you did quite well!!
especially with those who went to work on early mornings and families
the time when you first opened was the most peaceful, but you admitted that it was a bit boring, and you wished for a bit more excitement
and boy, the day edogawa ranpo stepped into your bakery was the catalyst for the chaos and excitement that was soon to come
not that you knew that
if you did you would’ve never let him in
maybe
you were 19 when ranpo discovered Sakura’s, and it was completely accidental
he finished solving a case and was on the way back to the agency, and he—not surprisingly—got lost and then it started to rain really hard
it was pouring; there was even the cliche thunder strike and everything
you saw the brown clad man across the street and you ran out with two umbrellas (almost getting hit by a car mind you) handed one to him and practically dragged him inside
with the heavy rain on the forecast, Sakura’s was empty, so you gently pushed him down on a chair and you rushed away to find towels
even though the two of you had umbrellas, the two of you were still soaked 
finding said towels, you quickly dried yourself the best you could then you draped your towel over your back and rushed over to give him his as well as a warm pastry and your special hot honey lemon tea
ranpo laughed as you placed down the refreshment and snack, thinking that you knew who he was and was giving him special treatment
poor bby blinked and went :0 when you said you didn’t
“you don’t know who i am?”
“no. am i supposed to?”
“...”
the 25 year old blanked and you worried that you broke him and started to apologize profusely 
he cut you off claiming that he got over it he didnt but seeing as the bakery was empty and it was pouring pretty badly, he demanded you give him all your attention sit with him so he could tell you all about himself and what he’s done
the two of you got along quite well
you were amazed with all the stories he’s told you 
you honestly acted like a cute little kid listening to fairytales
he told you that and in response you threw a napkin at him
“wow ranpo-san! that’s amazing!!”
“you look like a little kid”
cue the napkin
he was happy with all the attention, praise, and sweets you gave him
the agency gave him praise sure, and made sure he had a lot of snacks but it was refreshing to have someone give him this much and your treats were the best he’s ever had
after he told you all his most interesting cases, the two of you just rambled about the most randomest things; going from the best desserts and snacks to the stupidest things his coworkers have done
you guys were on that last topic for a while
you two talked and rambled for hours, and when it hit hour two and the rain was still pouring, you just went ahead and slipped the “we’re open” sign to “closed” even though it was only 2 o’clock
you thought that this was probably the loving goofy older brother relationship that you missed out on
“ranpo-san, you’re kind of like the brother i’ve never had”
“and you’re still like that little kid”
cue another napkin to the face
don’t worry, he already adores you <3 
he just likes to make fun of you </3
*cuts you off as you’re talking to squish your cheeks* “(y/n) you still have a lot of baby fat and you’re pretty short...are you sure you’re still not in high school or smth??”
*incoherent talking due to pressure on cheeks* “ranpo-san you have 3 seconds before i kick you out”
at around 6, the rain came to a stop and by then, the both of you were all dried up
before he left, you gave him a map so that he hopefully wouldn’t get lost again and gave him a couple boxes of treats for him to have and to share with his coworkers
you closed early so you had to give away at least some of the remaining treats somehow
he wanted you to go to agency with him so he didn’t have to carry everything but you declined saying that you didn’t want to bc you wanted to rest
and for payback for calling you a little kid
you were 19 goddamnit
you already placed everything neatly into two bags so it was easy to carry but this bitch still had the audacity to pout and whine at you
and he calls you the little kid, jeez
you never told him but, you almost gave in
you never told him. but he probably already knows
ranpo san knows all after all; even you knew that by now
the two of you had also exchanged phone numbers and when the two of you showed each other what you each put for a contact name along with the note below, the two of you broke out into grins
you named him “the greatest detective <33″ & put the note “new nii-san <33 & bully </3″ and he named you “cute bakery girl” with the note “best follower, sweets supply & annoying little kid”
when he left, you properly closed the bakery and taped a sign to the door saying that you closed early for personal reasons
when everything was cleaned up, you marched up into your bedroom, plopped on your bed, and took a nap
you deserved it
at the agency not too long after that, ranpo had arrived and when he opened the door, everyone rushed towards him in concern asking if he was okay
he waved them off and walked towards his desk and plopped down in his seat
he placed the two bags in front of him and took out a box of cream puffs and started to snack on them
his coworkers watched him blankly as his scarfed down one after another
after finishing that box, he rummaged through the bags to look through the different kinds of pastries you’ve given him 
noticing that there were people still staring at him he paused before sighing in exasperation
he began to whine at his coworkers saying that no one told him it was gonna rain and that they were lucky that he happened to be in front of Sakura’s
“why did no one tell me?! it was pouring and i was soaked! you guys are lucky that (n/n)-chan’s bakery was right there! you would’ve probably lost me! how would the agency even function without me here?!”
no one wanted to be the one to tell him that they had no idea who he was talking about and that they did in fact tell him that it was gonna pour
they can save that, and their questions for another time
next >>
tag list is open !! go to this google form and fill it out to sign up!
397 notes · View notes
wolf-and-bard · 3 years
Text
The Geraskier Dungeons and Dragons AU of my dreams (inspired by the TAD AMA and Joey apparently being an amazing dm):
-"Why do you hate fun," Eskel complains - for the fifth time that day - after Geralt refused his invitation to a new DnD campaign - for the fifth time that day. Geralt doesn't hate fun. He hates play-acting and games, especially if they rely on luck and are overly complicated, he hates big groups of people, and he hates being told stories. Dungeons and Dragons encompasses all of those aspects and that is why Geralt avoids it like the plague. "It's not for me," he mutters and hands Eskel the sandwiches he made for him to take to work. - "But this Jaskier guy is legendary, like I heard he's the best Dungeonmaster in the state." - "Likely an exaggeration...." - "Pleeaaaase. I had to bribe the hell out of Aiden to have him give up the two spots he had." That piques Geralt's interest. "What'd you bribe him with?" Eskel scratches his head sheepishly. "I may have sold our brother's hand in marriage." - "That's ballsy for you... does Lambert know of his luck yet?" Eskel shakes his head and Geralt huffs a laugh. His brothers are unbelievable, one so nerdy it makes up for Geralt's complete lack of interest in pop culture, the other an oblivious prick that tends to get arrested for being offensive. Ciri is their only hope. "So are you coming?" - "Absolutely no way."
-Geralt doesn't want to go and until half an hour before the game is supposed to start, he keeps his resolve. But then Eskel bursts into their shared living room - their flat is still attached to their father's house, but separate enough that it feels like their own; Lambert has a type penthouse suite to himself and Ciri still lives with Vesemir in the main house - with an excited blush and wearing a WoW shirt and the biggest, brightest puppy eyes, and begs Geralt on hands and knees to come with him. "Why though?" Geralt asks. "Would be more fun if I stayed away..." - "But I'm awkward and your pretty face may distract from that." - "Esk, we have the same face." Which is true, save for... oh. The scars. Of course, Geralt wants to smack himself. Eskel always tends to be more self-conscious in groups of new people because of his marred face, an accident in the zoo when they were young. He believes having Geralt with him shows other people how he is supposed to look like. Geralt doesn't believe it's a great coping mechanism, but he can never deny his twin anything. "Fuck," he grumbles and a triumphant grin blooms over Eskel's features.
-That first session is to go over the basics for anyone who needs a refresher and to talk about what each player expects from the campaign bla bla bla; Geralt doesn't contribute more than the odd grunt and is soon distracted by Jaskier's bright eyes, his pretty mouth, his whole energetic demeanor... he develops a little fixation over the course of the evening and gives up on trying to understand the game
-Jaskier approaches him after, while everyone else is exchanging notes on their characters, excited and electric and Geralt hasn't the first clue on what to do. A light hand on his shoulder, a welcoming smile. "Geralt, right?" Geralt nods curtly and Jaskier pulls up a chair and sits. Way too close for Geralt's comfort. He doesn't... mind? Fuck are those butterflies? Already? "If you have trouble figuring out your character, we could always do a private session to get you going. What do you say?" - "Saturday," Geralt grunts in reply. Jaskier claps delightedly, then is distracted by one of the women, Calanthe Geralt recalls, asking if she can play a lioness shapeshifter. He lets Eskel collect him, endures his brother's constant prattle on the ride back. He dares to give the whole thing a shot.
-Their private session starts out with Jaskier explaining different classes of characters, a few bottles of Geralt's favourite Redanian Lager on the side. He tries to listen, at least at first. But then Jaskier keeps licking froth from his lips and some of the perspiration from the cold bottles runs down his exposed neck and fuck, Geralt just can't stop himself. Eskel said over and over that Jaskier was basically a magician, but Geralt thought that would be restricted to the game. Nope. His dick definitely twitches when Jaskier leans over him to grab the dice Geralt brought upon Eskel's recommendation. Geralt catches a whiff of his shampoo - vanilla? - and Jaskier's arm brushes Geralt and well. He lets out a low whine. Jaskier hums a question mark, but when he sees the look on Geralt face his encouraging smile turns devilish, knowing. "Good," he breathes, drops the dice and climbs onto Geralt's lap. "I thought it was only me." Geralt catches Jaskier's hips and they kiss. No classes are studied that day, no alignments picked, no attributes determined. Instead, Geralt learns all the beautiful noises Jaskier can make, learns some of his own anew. They will need another private session to make up for lost time
-"Perhaps I should just design a character for you," Jaskier pants into Geralt's neck as he slow-fucks him on their couch, Eskel being out with Lambert to clear up the whole Aiden thing. It's the third time they're meeting to figure out Geralt's character. Geralt grunts and accelerates just enough to keep them both on the edge. His skin is burning and Jaskier writhes, his shoulders littered with bite marks. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, please." Later, Geralt agrees to Jaskier's suggestion. He makes him pancakes for breakfast.
-When the first session is well underway, everyone quickly realizes that this game really isn't for Geralt. He tries, he does. Jaskier was kind, gave him a stoic half-orc warrior that communicates mostly with grunts, but he still doesn't get all the rules and Calanthe is getting impatient with him, her boyfriend Eist amused by this, and Eskel keeps throwing the dice for Geralt, and these girls, Téa and Véa, stare daggers at him. Jaskier's watches it all with amusement, gently steering the group back towards their adventure - not that Geralt has the first clue what their objective is. But Geralt wants to keep playing if only because Jaskier is so fucking beautiful in his element, imitating voices, using the most ridiculous vocabulary, glowing with pure joy. It's a privilege to see, Geralt understands that now. And he has to thank Eskel for taking him despite his reservations
-"Won't you go on a normal date with me?" Geralt asks one night when they are wrapped up in Jaskier's bed, contented and tired from their earlier activities. "I could take you hunting or whatever." - "That's what you call a normal date?" Jaskier laughs and kisses him lightly. They haven't defined whatever it is they're doing, but Geralt is in no rush. Especially because he hasn't yet dared to breach the topic with Eskel who quickly befriended Jaskier (and everyone else of course, at the end of the day Eskel is a social butterfly, no matter what scars he bears). "Just... go out with me." - "You know, usually I have a strict policy for dating players, but... well that's already way out the window so, yeah, okay. I'll go out with you. But we're absolutely not going hunting, I'm a vegetarian." Alas, there had to be some catch.
-Geralt keeps playing and his permanent confusion becomes part of his character as well. It isn't ideal, but the others - and Jaskier's forgiving storytelling - drag him through to the end of it. By then, Geralt almost gets it. "Well," Jaskier concludes. "That was a bit of a different campaign. Hope you all liked it." The bastard acts abashed. Hah. Geralt and Eskel are the last ones to leave after they all toasted and talked about playing again some time. "You coming?" Eskel asks, hovering near the door. He's long past his initial anxiety, his fangirling, his self-consciousness. That too has been a glorious part of this, seeing Eskel unfold, gain confidence, be at ease. He likes that he could give his brother the safety he needed. "I, uhm," Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts by threading his arm through Geralt's. "We are! What's for dinner?" And he drags Geralt past Eskel who raises a brow. Geralt tries to communicate with his eyes all he neglected to tell Eskel. It's only because they're so close that Eskel at least understands that they are something like boyfriends now. He laughs.
-"My baby brother," Eskel lulls later when Jaskier is already passed out from too much wine and Geralt and him stand outside, sharing a rare cigarette. He ruffles Geralt head. "I'd wondered why you stuck around so long." - "Fuck off," Geralt says.
-The next time Eskel invites him to a campaign, Geralt tags along. Not because he particularly wants to, but because now there are two pairs of puppy eyes, begging him, and he can't say no to either of them, let alone both (maybe someday he will actually enjoy the game for its own merits)
124 notes · View notes